Seventeen

A few days later, Jesus informed the group that his father had died. He took Simon, James and John, and, interestingly, Matthew, and went to his funeral, leaving Andrew more or less in charge.

Nathanael had been concerned about the fact that, when they went into the woods to sleep for the night, his old terror of the dark kept him as near the campfire as possible, dreading that it would go out. "I must overcome this, somehow," he said to himself, and that very night, he quietly left the group for a while and carefully walked away into the dark woods, sweating profusely.

For two or three steps. He stood there, barely out of sight of the campfire, his whole body screaming to turn and run back, while he told himself that there was nothing to be afraid of here; there were no demons lurking here for him; and if something did happen, he was close enough to have help upon the instant. It did not really allay his fears, but it kept him there. Briefly.

He finally left after what seemed to him an eternity, but was probably less than a quarter of an hour, and then turned back, breathing as if he had been running ten stadia.

No one noticed anything, however, and he went over to his place (blessedly close to the fire) and managed to sleep eventually.

He made it a practice after this that every night he would walk a little by himself in the woods, each night farther and farther from the fire and light (and even from the moonlight that shone in clearings), and stay there as long as he could stand it. And each night, as he had hoped, it became easier and easier, since nothing untoward happened. After a time, he even began musing over his problems about Jesus, one time even saying to himself, "I wonder if he knows where I am and what I am doing," and answering his question by realizing that if he was what Nathanael was beginning to think he was, he certainly did know, and was in fact the one who was infusing courage--of a sort--into him. Because he could not say he was not afraid, only that he was somewhat less so.

All this was going on, of course, after Jesus and the others returned. One day, they happened to be in Cana for something-or-other, (and Nathanael thought of visiting his family, and promptly felt that it was too soon--"If it will ever be time to do so," he said to himself), and a military officer, accompanied, interestingly enough, by the soldier who was with Matthew at the tax-booth, approached Jesus and begged him to go down with him to the city and cure his son, who was very ill and about to die.

"You people!" said Jesus. "Unless you have proof and see miracles, you do not believe!" Jesus had not been performing cures during this period, perhaps out of respect for the memory of his father, but still, to Thomas this sounded rather harsh. Perhaps it was to goad the officer into a real act of faith?

It seemed so. "Master, please!" he said. "Go down before my son dies!"

Jesus looked at him, stroked the beard on his chin, and answered, "You may go. Your son will live."

The man opened his mouth as if to make a protest; but closed it when he looked into Jesus' face, thinking better of it, and turned and left.

The soldier gave a glance back at Matthew, as he pivoted to go.

The next day, he returned alone, finding Jesus, to whom he gave a rather substantial gift from the father, remarking that the father had met a slave on the way home, who told him that the fever had left his son, and he wanted to waste no time in thanking him for restoring him to health. He had himself continued to his house to be with his son. Jesus accepted the gift, and handed it over to Judas for the group.

More "signs," thought Nathanael. He can cure people at a distance, and with nothing but a word that it had been done. The soldier had reported that the father learned that the cure had occurred at the moment Jesus had told him his son would live. True, faith was required; he saw that the father had his doubts and then decided to trust Jesus; but it was clear that the faith was barely flickering. And certainly, the son had no faith at all. Perhaps Jesus did not need faith in order to make the cures, but merely refused a cure if the faith weren't there.

Would he effect a cure if a person had faith and did not declare it somehow? Could he be surprised into a cure? Of course, if he were God, he could not be surprised at all. Still, based on what happened at the wedding and what happened with the dogs, he did not exactly seem to know beforehand what was going to happen, but recognized it, as it were, when it did.

Or something. He knew that he would meet Matthew, for instance. It was all too confusing.

The soldier, dismissed, then sought out Matthew, and entered a rather extensive conversation with him, which ended with Matthew's saying in a voice loud enough to be heard, "Well, Longinus, I wish you well."

"And I you, Levi-Matthew, in your new life," replied the soldier.

"If it lasts."

"Oh, it will. You are hardly a fanatic, but I see the signs."

"Well, we shall see about that also." And the soldier left, humming quietly in his cheerful way.

That night Jesus excused himself from the group and went up to pray on a mountain overlooking the "Sea" of Galilee from the north. The others stayed back halfway up (because on these occasions Jesus wished for privacy), on a kind of saddle that was still rather high. Matthew, Thomas noticed, elected to remain with them and try out how it felt to be camping for the night. This perhaps was one of the "signs" the soldier would have pointed out that Matthew was going to continue with them. There seemed to be "signs" of all sorts of things in this group.

David, interestingly, slept beside him that night, saying practically nothing, as was his wont. Nathanael went for his nightly walk and came back after almost a full hour, to see them sleeping peacefully beside each other. David seemed to have attached himself to Matthew for some reason; it was unlikely, then, that whatever the initial reaction to him was, it was hatred.

The following morning, shortly after dawn, Jesus came down from the heights, looking refreshed (though some of the students claimed that on nights such as this he prayed the whole time, silently, without sleeping at all). He called over twelve of them, including Nathanael and, of all people, Philip, and declared that they were to be his Emissaries as he began the announcement that the Reign of God was about to start, and that to prepare for it people should change their way of thinking--"and to reinforce what you say, you also will have the power to cure diseases and even cast out demons." Nathanael was not at all certain that he wanted such a power; he would almost certainly botch any attempt to exercise it.

"I will begin to spell out now rather more explicitly what the reign of God will be like," Jesus concluded. "You will see. I will give you instructions later on about what you are to do."

A number of people of the area knew where the group was, and as was their custom, they began to gather round on the saddle of the hill, bringing their sick and crippled for him to cure--which he did, spending the morning at it.

Around noon, he went back up the mountain a short way, with by now quite a throng of people on the saddle below him, in a kind of natural amphitheater. He stood up and held up his hands to catch their attention and said,

"You have asked about the reign of God and how you are to change your way of thinking. Attend, then: It is a blessing for you to be poor, because then you have God for your king; it is a blessing for you to be hungry now, because then you will have your fill. It is a blessing for you to suffer now, because you will find happiness. It is a blessing for you when people hate you and drive you away, and ostracize you; on the day this happens, leap about for joy, because you have a great reward in heaven; your enemies' ancestors did the same to the prophets.

"But it is a curse to be rich, because you have your comfort here now; it is a curse to be full now, because then you will be hungry; it is a curse that you enjoy life now, because then you will suffer; and it is a curse to have everyone speak well of you, because their ancestors praised the false prophets in the same way." He paused to let what he had said sink in.

Nathanael saw Matthew hurriedly take out some papyrus and write notes on it with a feather and some ink he carried with him.

The people were deadly silent, gaping in astonishment. What could he mean? How could it be a blessing to suffer and a curse to enjoy life? Then they began to buzz. "This is insane!" said one, and another answered, "Then we should cause people to be poor and hungry, and do them a favor? It makes no sense!" Nathanael sighed. If he were following Jesus so that life would make sense, the inauguration of this new Reign of God sounded anything but promising. How could it be that what everyone saw as a blessing was a curse and what everyone thought of as a curse was a blessing? He looked over at Matthew when Jesus said that it was a blessing to be poor, and saw him look up, astounded; but interestingly, when he said that it was a curse to be rich, Matthew nodded in agreement as he took down the phrase.

So Matthew, at least, seemed to realize that his riches, or the circumstances in which he had them--his sin--was an affliction that he had been cured of. But he evidently had not yet noticed that now he was in effect poor (though he had not yet actually given away his wealth, as far as Nathanael knew), and was acting as if he were fairly content with his life. He did seem rather concerned about something, however; and Nathanael speculated that it was about having actually to give up what he possessed and commit himself to this better life.

--Just as Nathanael was having trouble living a life in which fear no longer directed everything he did. He was happier, but the problem was to let go. "I am trying, Master," he said under his breath. "I am trying." And with Jesus's help, perhaps he might actually be a human being some day.

Jesus was continuing, "You heard it said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth'; but I tell those of you who can hear it, love your enemies and do good to the ones who hate you; pray for those who threaten you. If someone slaps your cheek, turn the other one for him to slap; if he takes your cloak, give him your tunic as well. Give to everyone who asks, and if someone takes what is yours, do not demand it back. In short, do to everyone else what you would have them do to you."

Now what did that mean? Let people take advantage of you, seemed to be the message. But why? Nathanael could understand treating everyone else equally, "Love your neighbor as much as you love yourself," as Leviticus said; but why love your neighbor more than you loved yourself? A "change of one's way of thinking" was certainly being called for.

"This is not an explanation of the Law," said someone. "This is something he has made up." "Who does he think he is? Another Moses?"said another. The listeners began a lively discussion among themselves at how Jesus was apparently teaching them on his own authority, and not like the Scripture scholars. Some scoffed at it, but others said, "If he does not have God behind him, how can he do what he does? You saw that man simply get up and walk when he merely touched him!"

No longer did we have interpretations of what was in Scripture. Jesus was telling us something new.

Or was it? Jesus continued, "Do not think that I have come to do away with the Law and the prophets; I have come to fulfill them, not abolish them. I tell you this: as long as heaven and earth last, not the dot on one i or the cross on one t will be removed from the Law--not until everything is all over. And so if any man sets aside the least command in the Law, he will have the lowest place when God begins his reign, and anyone who keeps the Law and teaches others to do so will rank high God's kingdom. In fact, unless you show that you are better than the Pharisees and Scripture scholars, you will not even enter God's kingdom."

"I am not too certain that I wish to be in such a kingdom," said a man. "We have burdens enough already." But Jesus continued, "And do not be evaluating others' conduct, or your own conduct will be evaluated. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and things will be given to you--good measure, tamped down, and overflowing will be poured into your pocket; because the standard you use for measuring others will be the standard you are measured by. How is it you can see a speck in your brother's eye and not notice the board in your own? You fraud; take the board out of your own eye before you presume to take the speck from your brother's."

"That, at least makes sense," said one. "Treat everyone fairly." "Yes," said another, "but then why not slap the person who has slapped you? That is what is fair to my way of thinking, as well as the other." "It is not the same thing," said the first. "I see no difference," was the answer.

If it was not the same thing, where was the difference? Nathanael was at a complete loss, and only came back to himself when he heard, "Why do you call me 'Master! Master!' and not do what I say? I will tell you what a person who comes to me and listens to what I say and puts it into practice is like: he is like a man who was building a house, and dug deep and laid its foundation on bedrock; and when the flood came, the river burst on that house, and it withstood it, because it was built on rock. But the one who hears me and does not act on it is like a man building his house on sand. The river rose, and the house collapsed into a heap of rubble."

And that, to Nathanael's--and everyone else's--great relief, was the end. Everyone was either making outraged comments or shaking his head in bewilderment. And we Twelve were to go and announce that this was going to be the new order of things, when we cannot make head or tail of it?

But Jesus knew what he was doing.

Did he?

He sounded dangerously like a madman.

Nathanael was too befuddled even to try to analyze what Jesus said. But he noticed Matthew going up to him and engaging in earnest conversation, evidently on the meaning of the sermon, or whatever it was. Perhaps he could question Matthew later. As he approached, the conversation seemed to be ending with Jesus saying, "And was it not wise of him to trust?" Who? Nathanael wondered.

"As it turned out yes, I supposed," Matthew answered. "Your mother seemed to have no trouble on that score."

"Ah, well, she is unique." Perhaps the one who "trusted" was the father who died. Jesus continued, "But you would do well to use her as your model."

"I will try, Master; that is all I can say."

"And that is all I ask. Remember this: I do not ask for success, but that you try." Nathanael thought back to what he muttered during the Sermon: "I am trying, Master." Was Jesus talking to him as well as Matthew?

"I suppose I might be able to manage that," answered Matthew. "I might."

Jesus laughed. "Well, then, try to try. Perhaps that will suffice." Nathanael resolved that he would try to try. The two left, and Nathanael did not have an opportunity to approach Matthew and ask him about what Jesus said.

A day or two later, Jesus was again speaking to everyone, more or less upon the same topic, unfortunately making it not a great deal more comprehensible. The main idea this time was that people were not to over-analyze what he was saying, but to trust and be willing to change the way they thought about things. The transformation would come. Nathanael hoped so; it could not come too soon to suit him.

They were at the shore of the "sea," and the crowd was pressing in, almost pushing Jesus into the lake. He turned and saw that it was near where Simon had his boat moored, and he pointed to it, evidently wishing to preach from the boat. There were already two or three boats on the lake nearby, with people listening from them.

Simon waded in and got into the boat, which had been anchored a short way from shore, and rowed over. Jesus got in and stood on the seat in the stern and resumed speaking from there. Nathanael missed what he was saying, he was so fascinated by how he maintained his balance with seemingly no effort, and was reminded of Thomas and Samuel standing up as they struggled for the wineskin, oversetting their boat--which was a good deal smaller, of course.

He happened to glance over at one of the other boats, where the people were enthralled at what Jesus was saying. On the stern of this boat, however, there was a little girl, perhaps ten years old, sitting on the gunwale with her feet upon the seat, and she was anything but enthralled. Nathanael saw that her head was beginning to nod, and that no one in the boat was paying any attention to her; they were all looking at Jesus, who was in the direction of the port bow.

Nathanael realized with a shock that if she fell asleep--as she seemed about to do--she would topple overboard backwards into the lake, and Samuel again popped into his head. He began hurriedly loosening his sandals.

And sure enough, she teetered, and then, with the rocking of the boat, began to fall. Nathanael tore off his cloak and his tunic, took two running strides into the lake and dove in, just as she fell. He hit the water almost as soon as she did, and with two or three strong strokes, reached her as she struggled and splashed and began to sink. He reached out and grabbed her--she was a tiny thing, but was hard to hold onto as she flailed about, screaming and choking--and clasped her around the waist with his hands; and, treading water, held her up toward the boat, where the family was reaching out.

They grasped her from him and pulled her into the boat, and then he realized that he could touch bottom; it was only a handbreadth over his head. He turned, embarrassed, not hearing what the people were saying, and swam back to shore, thinking, "They could have pulled her out. They would have done. Why did I try to act the hero?"

When he reached the shallow water and began to wade ashore, covering his nakedness with his hands, he saw Ezra there with a cloth. "Well done, Bartholomew!" he shouted.

He ran up to Ezra and took the cloth from him, wrapping himself in it. "Thank you, Ezra," he said.

"You did well," Ezra repeated, smiling.

"I made a fool of myself! She was not really in any danger."

"I would not be too sure of that. No one saw her until they heard the splash."

"I was so determined that we would not have a repeat of Samuel that I did not stop to think."

"And so she is safe. Even if they could have saved her, they might not have done. No, you did well."

"Well, thank you for saying so, Ezra. It is done, in any case. And," he added, looking down at the cloth wrapped about his loins, "I proved to all and sundry that I am a true Israelite."

"Nonsense," said Ezra. "You know that the fishermen often strip when they are working in the heat."

"Yes, but not in mixed company!"

Ezra laughed.

Nathanael dried himself off with the cloth as well as he could without proving his descendancy from Abraham any further, and Ezra handed him his tunic, which he donned, letting the cloth slip out from under it; and then he put on the cloak and the sandals.

"I think that I did it because in the back of my mind I wanted to erase what I did--or rather did not do--for Samuel."

"And you did do so," said Ezra.

"No I did not," he answered. "Samuel is still dead. Nothing can erase that. My sin has been forgiven, perhaps, but that did not bring Samuel back to life. And this little episode cannot change that."

"You are being too unkind to yourself," said Ezra. "The girl is safe, and that is a good thing."

"But the only thing that could change Samuel's death for me would be to know that it was the best thing that could have happened to him. And how is--Let us go, Ezra. I cannot bear having the family come over and fawn on me, and they are beaching the boat now!" And he fled.