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History and Legend
The Jesus, whom I knew as a brother,
is the same prodigy who preached in Galilee and Judea. His victory over death transformed him from
Isaiah’s man of sorrows, whom his own people rejected, to Jesus Christ, Lord of
both Gentiles and Jews. In a latter
day, according to the hermit John, he will come back to earth as a conqueror to
smite the enemies of God. Not for one
moment during his childhood or ministry, however, did my brother flaunt his
roll as the Messiah or Son of God or perform unnecessary miracles and use
puffed up speech. I can’t accept the
dreadful judge John made him out to be.
I pray that John’s wrong.
Perhaps John has grown a little mad after being on that island for so
long. The Jesus I knew and loved
remained for his disciples, as he had been in childhood, humble and without
guile. When he was tempted to exhibit
his power, he was always guided by that inner voice. After his first childhood miracle, he became illuminated with
fearful visions, but nothing like the ones I read in the hermit’s scroll. Yet his knowledge of his apparent godhood
filled him with dread. Prayer guided
his every move and he was in constant communication with God, though he always
had time for the simple, mundane matters in our lives. He taught us to look at God’s creatures as
miracles, in themselves. He seemed to
have a special fondness for me and protected my friends and I from our
brothers, James, Joseph and Simon’s, wiles.
In the beginning my awareness of his divinity was
clouded by my misunderstanding of his powers.
I immediately wanted him to conjure me up a pony. On occasions, when it seemed he could
intervene to change the course of events, I, more than anyone else, was there
egging him on. Gradually, I would
accept the fact that Jesus was not performing magic nor did his power originate
in himself, but was given to him, as he claimed, after praying to God. He refused to act capriciously. But on that day he performed his first
miracle, we, his brothers, knew nothing of his wondrous birth or who he might
be. James, Joseph, and Simon, argued
over whether he might be a sorcerer or magician. I thought he was addled in the head. I could not bring myself to believe the miracle at first, though
I suspected that my brothers were correct.
After his first miracle, Jesus tried to hold onto
his childhood, but the secrets our parents had kept for so long began spilling
out. He denied his uniqueness and
downplayed his gifts, reminding us constantly of the power of prayer, but we
knew better. We had seen with our eyes
and heard with our ears other wonders that couldn’t be explain by modest
words. We had heard him speak with an
eloquence and knowledge far beyond his years.
Though we fought the notion growing in our heads, we knew in our hearts
that it was true. . . . Jesus was not like us.
He was, if nothing else, a miracle worker—touched by God.
From
the beginning, however, Jesus’ miracles were considered by many of his
detractors to be diabolical—powers given to him by Satan, not God. Already, only thirty years after his
resurrection, legends have sprouted up to compete with the historical truth of
Jesus’ life. I have learned as a
chronicler how much history can be blurred, even warped, by the eyewitnesses,
themselves. Legends have sprouted up in
Galilee about Jesus’ childhood that are scurrilous and outright lies. I grew up with Jesus, and what I didn’t see
my older brothers James, Joseph and Simon would not have missed. I can remember a time when even Jesus was
ignorant of his divinity. Until the
incident of the sparrow in our garden, he had been a typical Nazarene
child. My mother, who could never keep
a secret for long, would have told us if he had misused God’s power. For the record then, the rumors that my
brother turned clay pigeons into living birds, once struck a boy deaf and dumb,
and raised a playmate from the dead are falsehoods perpetuated by his
detractors, who wish to sully his reputation, as well as well-meaning but
foolish admirers, who pass on these scurrilous lies as if they are God’s
truth. There are many more of these
tales, which are too defamatory for my pen.
Interestingly enough many of these rural legends are variations of
previous tales: alleged miracles performed for neighbors and friends but also
apparent black magic done to his enemies, whom were punished for their
misdeeds.
I, Jude, am witness to my brother’s blameless and
inspirational childhood, his mission in Galilee and Judea, in which I
participated until his death on the cross, and after his resurrection as he
appeared in his glory in the clouds. To
refute these spurious stories by what I’ve seen with my own eyes would take a
volume in itself. I would have to list
each legend with an educated denial, when, in fact, I was five years younger
than Jesus—a young child. The stories
are numerous and continue to be woven by various camps that are hostile,
indifferent or in disagreement with the houses of worship and established dogma
compiled by Paul, Mark, Luke, and Jesus’ disciples, of which I am the least of
the twelve. What is important to the
believer and those seeking the truth are the documented miracles and great
deeds Jesus actually performed.
The Chronicles of Jude, which I divided into four
volumes, is basically a record of Jesus’ life and mission of salvation, but
they are also a record of his impact on my personal life. I was inspired to begin writing the
chronicles during my travels with Elisha bar Simon. Most of the chronicles cover the period when I was a disciple during
Jesus’ life and after his death, as an apostle serving the risen Christ. The story of Jesus’ birth and his ministry
are the foundation of our faith, but these stories are best told in the scrolls
of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. For
an understanding of the Way, the writings of Paul, Peter’s dictations, and the
Acts of the Apostles written by my friend Luke will bring enlightenment. For pure illumination or entertainment, John
the Hermit’s letters to the Churches, which he claims is revelation from the
Lord, greatly impressed (and troubled) me when I visited this strange man. Hopefully, my chronicles might compensate
for the paltry epistle I wrote at Peter’s insistence. The first volume begins when the secrets Joseph and Mary kept
from their children are unleashed by one spontaneous miracle. At that point, a porthole opened in Jesus
youthful mind. When he began to
discover his godhood, our peaceful life in Nazareth began to change. A series of wondrous events and revelations
followed that would forever change our lives.
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