Thirty-Two

They returned to Galilee after that, Jesus evidently assuming that the Judeans would need time to digest what had happened on this trip.

Ezra, whom Thomas had not seen much of lately, appeared beside him, and said, "As you know, David and I have been watching Judas. Poor David! He fell in love with Judith, that young servant of Mary, and she rejected him because he had once been dead! He is trying to forget by dogging Judas's steps. So I have been busy with him, and other things also; I have had reasons for not being with you lately. But as it happened, I was the one who saw your encounter with Judas."

"How typical. I saw you not at all." Then, recalling what had happened, Thomas closed his eyes in pain.

"I cannot imagine what it is like," said Ezra, his voice full of pity. He sighed, and added "And it shatters me that I must add to it."

"Add to it?" How could anything make matters worse?

"I have also undertaken to see what I could do with your parents."

Thomas stared at him in disbelief.

"You see, you are so different now from the Thomas they knew. I felt that if I could convince them of this, I might bring about a reconciliation."

"I--know not what to say. I am overwhelmed with gratitude."

"Do not thank me, please! For it is not as you might expect. You see, your father--" He seemed to be fighting for words.

"Is there something wrong with my father? Is he--is he dead?"

"No, not dead. But you must prepare yourself."

"Tell me! What is it?" He could not imagine.

"He is--very sick. Or no, not sick. I am sorry, Thomas, but he is--as you were, when I saw you in the cave. Except," he added hastily, "that of course he is clean and fed. He is at home."

He felt shock going through him from his feet to his chest. He could barely breathe. He whispered,"But he is drunk."

"Your mother told me that not long after you left and he began working for Zebedee--that was how she put it, 'working for Zebedee'--he began having an extra cup of wine before the evening meal, and then after a time an extra one during the meal, and then later also one after it, and then more than one, 'so that he could sleep,' she said. And when she tried to say something, he said that it was nothing, that he simply needed something to help him sleep.

"But she could see that it was affecting him. How could it not? You know how it is. And he had no idea that it was doing so, and she tried to tell him, but he would not listen, and made excuses."

"I know just how it is," said Thomas, fearful that it would not also be how it would be for himself in the future. But his own father! And he was responsible. Of course he was! How could he bear it?

"I am sorry. But she said that a few weeks ago, Zebedee finally told him that if he did not stop drinking, he could not go out with them any longer to fish. He was not only useless as a fisherman, he was becoming a positive danger to the others in the boat. And, she said, he came home after that, and said, 'They think me no better than that murderer!' and told her what had happened, and then drank himself into insensibility. And for days he has been thus, just as you were, waking only to drink more and fall asleep again into a drunken stupor. You know how it is."

"Indeed I do! Indeed I do!" said Thomas, his voice full of tears. "God save us!"

"I went to Jesus and asked him if he would go and do to him what he had done to you, and he looked at me and said, 'Send Thomas.'

"Dear God!"

"Will you go to him?"

"But it will kill him if he sees me! Especially if he is in that state!"

"Not if the Master sent you."

Thomas stood there, staring at Ezra.

"He knows what he is doing, Thomas."

Thomas closed his eyes, and said, "I must trust, I suppose."

"I would say, 'fear not,' Thomas; but I am in dread myself. But it must be done. You know it must."

After a long while, Thomas said, "Yes, I must go. Dear God, how can I bring myself to do it? How can I bear to see my father thus? And I the cause of it! Suppose I cannot cure him! Suppose he has no faith in me! It will only make matters worse! And my poor mother!"

"It is not a question of his faith in you," said Ezra, "but of your faith in Jesus."

And Jesus was God. He had said so in so many words. "Before Abraham was, I AM," he had said. He could do it; and evidently he could do it through Thomas. And the fact that he had sent Thomas meant--had to mean--that Thomas was forgiven for his hatred of Judas and his doubts and vacillations. And that Thomas himself would be able to continue without that cursed bladder. It had to mean that, did it not? That not only his father would be cured, but that Thomas would stay cured.

"Well," he said quietly, "we had best go. Will you accompany me, my friend?"

"I will gladly do so, my very good friend."

And so they approached Thomas's old house, Thomas's breath becoming shorter and shorter the closer they came. His mother happened to glance out the window and suddenly she dashed out. "Thomas! Thomas!" she cried, flying into his arms, kissing him on the cheek. "You are even more handsome than you used to be! Oh, thank you Ezra! I hoped and prayed that you could do something like this!" And she wept on his shoulder for a long time. Thomas also could not speak, his heart overflowed so.

Finally, he managed to say, "Father is--?" He let it hang, and it floated between them for a long while, before she answered, "He is very--sick. Do not blame him, Thomas!"

"Blame him! If anyone is to blame, it is I!"

"Do not say that!"

"It is true. You know that it is true. It would never happened if I had not been under the same curse."

"But he never meant to be thus."

"Oh, I know, I know. One has no idea what is happening to him. It is always, 'just a little,' and everyone else can see what is going on, but one is blind oneself. I know it so well! And that it should have happened to him! Had I foreseen it I--No, I would not have changed. I was under its spell, and I could not. I would have denied it, if I had seen it happen with my own eyes! Oh, I know it so well."

"But you stopped drinking wine, Ezra told me."

"Mother, I have drunk nothing but water for over a year and a half now, thank God--thank Jesus--and Nathanael, and Ezra."

"Can you--could you--is it possible to save him as you were saved?"

"I hope so--no, I know so. That is why I am here. Jesus sent me, which means that I will be able to do it."

"So Ezra was right; you are one of his followers. And one of the inner circle."

"It turns out that I am, Mother, not for any merit of mine. He chose me, and there are others far more deserving--Ezra here, for one--but I suppose I needed it more than anyone else. But we had best see him, had we not?"

She looked grave. "You must prepare yourself for a shock, Thomas, my dear. He is not what you remember him to be."

"Will he be able to tolerate me? Will he drive me away as if I were a demon?"

"Thomas, he will not even see you. He barely wakes up for a few moments, day or night, and then it is only to have another drink of wine. Come." And in tears, she led Thomas and Ezra into the house.

And there he was, lying on the bed, his mouth open and his eyes closed, a shipwreck of a man. Thomas's eyes filled with tears, as he fought to quell his revulsion. "And to think that I was far worse!" he said to himself. He looked over at Ezra, who was keeping himself in the background, with Thomas's mother. The two seemed to be quite friendly, which Thomas found amazing.

Swallowing, he went up to the unconscious man, put his hands on his head, and said, "May this curse be removed from you, by the power of Jesus of Nazareth." And the father woke, his face now altered from the drunken imbecility it had had a moment ago.

He blinked and looked around the room, and then noticed Thomas. "You! How came you into this house?"

"I came, Father--"

"Call me not that name! I told you, you are no son of mine! You do not exist! How have you dared to see me again!"

This was worse, far worse than the worst Thomas had expected. He struggled with his anger, and managed to say, "I was sent by Jesus of Nazareth to remove the curse of drink--"

"To curse me with your presence! You tell that Jesus of Nazareth to keep you from my sight! I will be willing to see you--I will tolerate! seeing you only if my only son Samuel comes up out of the grave! and explains to me how what you did to him was the best! thing that could ever have happened to him! Then and only then!" He panted with the exertion of hi rage.

"Accomplish that with your magic! Unless and until that happens, you are a thousand times more of a curse to me than any curse you may have removed! Now leave, and let me go down to my grave and meet my only son! Leave! Go! Why are you still here?"

Thomas fled. The clouds, which had been threatening rain, fled also in front of him, above him but also seemingly around him, as if to escape from him as fast as possible; it was almost as if Thomas, in his tearful stumbling along the road, were moving backwards. He did glance back to see if it was so, and saw the house receding. But where was Ezra?

And then the rain broke. Huge drops making lilies of splashes on the path, which turned it into mud under his feet. In spite of himself, he had had hope that there could be a reconciliation, since Jesus had sent him--and it was true, he did meet his mother, and she loved him--at least until he failed--The lilies of her greeting of him now soaked him to the skin as did the rain, and turned his soul to mud. He stopped hurrying away, and let the drenching rain drench as he plodded through the mire of the path.

The squall ended just before he entered the camp, and he went to the tent and dried off and changed his clothes. He had to see Jesus. Why had he sent him? And where was Ezra?

He found Jesus off by himself. "Master," he said, "why--" He could not finish.

"Thomas, you did well."

"But he hates me, and he will simply go back to--to where I was!"

"Thomas."

"Yes?"

"I told you to trust me. Can you trust me?"

"I--Master, I know not."

"You remember once you said that bringing Lazarus to his senses would be a miracle? I love Lazarus. Pay attention to what happens to Lazarus, and trust. I love you also, Thomas."

"I know, Master, but--I do not understand."

"You will. Have but a little patience. And trust me."

After a long pause, "I will try, Master."

"That is all I ask."

But it was one thing to try to trust, and another to trust. And what did Lazarus have to do with this? And where was Ezra?

As usual, he suddenly appeared beside Thomas, and said, "I am so sorry, Thomas."

Thomas sighed. "So am I, Ezra. I knew something like this would happen; I know my father. I asked the Master why he wanted me--" his voice broke, and through tears he managed, "And he told me I did well." He paused, took a deep breath, and went on, "So I did what he wished, somehow, though he knew how it went. He told me to pay attention to Lazarus, of all people, and be patient. I know nothing any more."

"Well, I can at least tell you this: Both your father and mother are my friends--and they are good people, Thomas. Your mother is the one, of course, who asked me for help, but they are both good people. And she and I were able to persuade your father to drink only water from now on. I said that I would speak to Zebedee, and I was sure that if your father stayed sober, he would be glad to have him back. But, though he was swayed, he was uncertain what he would do until--Thomas, I had to do it."

"Do what?"

"I saw that one thing would succeed, and it looked as if it might be the only thing, so--so I--so I said, 'Would you continue imitating Thomas?' And he looked at me with horror. Up to that moment, he had no idea that he was doing what you had done. He said, 'I am so ashamed!' and vowed he would never touch another drop of wine. I had to do it, Thomas."

Thomas bit his lips, and shook his head. "I am sure you did." He sighed, looking up at the sky, with clouds still racing away from him. "Even the sky shuns me," he thought, and wondered irrelevantly if the rain would return. "I am grateful, Ezra; thank you. But it is so hard, to be denounced by one's own father--twice! And there is nothing, nothing I can do to restore myself to him! I cannot understand why the Master had me do this!"

"I am so sorry, Thomas, my dear friend."

"I know, Ezra, and I appreciate it. But--but I must be alone for a while. You understand?"

"I understand. I will go to see Zebedee."

And Thomas went off into the woods by himself and wept and wept, huge sobs like a small child whose father had been taken away--who had driven his father away. He fell to the grass on his knees and elbows and kept banging his fist onto the ground, punctuating screams and sobs with "Why? Why? Why?" , until he had exhausted himself from crying.

Finally, when his breath came more regularly, with only a feeble sob every now and then, he rolled on his back and looked up through the trees at the clouds, still frantically fleeing from his face. Alone. Not even the bladder. Nothing. Nothing but Jesus. And Jesus had sent him into this horror!

And Ezra. Thank God for Ezra! And his mother, who still loved him--though she would not dare to see him and bring down on herself the wrath of his father. The fact that she cared and could not get to him made him feel even more alone.

He returned to his elbows and knees and wept, feebly now, pounding the ground.

Afterwards, he returned to his back. Well, he supposed he was really was no worse now than yesterday. And his father was no longer a drunk. "At least that much good has been salvaged from this," he said to himself. "But could it not have been done some other way? I do not understand it. And what does Lazarus have to do with it?"