Return to Table of Contents/Writer’s Den

Chapter Six

The River Jordan

Our visit to the house of Nicodemus was a milestone in Jesus’ ministry. The message that he explained to the Pharisee, his students, and his disciples, ‘You must be born again in water and the Spirit to have eternal life,’ was simple for us to understand and yet so very hard for a rational traditionalist like Nicodemus to accept. Beyond the message, however, were those more abstract details of the new faith, which the disciples had not yet grasped and which I barely understood. Concepts, such as the Word, Lamb of God, Anointed One, the three natures of God (Father, Son, and Spirit [which would one day be called the Holy Spirit]), and the undefined nature of Jesus (teacher, prophet, or divinity) remained mysteries for us. Even I, after a life as Jesus’ brother and my travels, found these concepts hard to digest, let alone understand. Far more important to us, of course, was the question of Jesus itinerary. Beginning with our trip to Jerusalem, which he sprang on us suddenly, he appeared to be deliberately holding back on explaining the details of his mission and its destination. Also absent, at this stage of our journey, was something we could not have imagined: the result or ultimate goal of his mission. For now, as I look back, the beginning and middle of this odyssey, seems overshadowed by the impact of its end, and yet, without the intervening story of Jesus’ mission, as written by his Apostles, the Resurrection would have little meaning.

As we bid our host goodbye, my heart was heavy. James was absent from the dining room, as were the other students. Nicodemus, though polite, was no longer talkative. We ate our morning meal, slung on our packs, and began walking toward the main gate. I ran ahead to find Bartholomew’s mule and helped him into this cart. After waving at the Pharisee, who stood scowling in the morning sunlight, I walked beside Bartholomew, leading his mule. I could see Jesus walking ahead of the others. He was praying softly. The other disciples were chattering away, without a backward glance, but I turned to wave at Nicodemus one more time. At that point, to my great joy, James appeared beside his mentor, with a pack slung over his shoulder.

“Jesus,” I cried, “Look, our brother’s coming. James is one of us!”

“We’re all brothers now,” claimed Jesus. “I knew James would come!”

Turning from the Pharisee into his new life, James became the eighth disciple of Jesus. From this point on, more controversial characters would join our band—men who were educated like James and myself. With exception of Bartholomew, whose occupation, other than one-time bandit, he never explained, I would always think of the others—Peter, Andrew, Philip, James, and John—as the ‘fisherman.’ They were uncomplicated men, who had accepted Jesus message completely. As for James and myself, we understood just enough of the details to worry about what that message might bring.

******

Even though Bartholomew rode in a mule cart now, the bumps and jars of the road wore on him. We were, as the day grew old, forced to stop repeatedly to give him a rest. Earlier in our journey, Jesus had taken him aside and healed his spirit. Now, despite the advantages of the cart, he was back to wheezing, muttering querulously, and cursing at the mule. Though I dare not say it aloud, I wondered why Jesus didn’t heal him outright. Being forgiven for past sins wasn’t enough. It would be so easy for Jesus to give Bartholomew more strength and makes his legs strong again and sell the mule and cart at the next town. He had quieted a storm, healed a sparrow and even a man, and then changed water into wine, and yet he let Bartholomew suffer his infirmities now without so much as a word.

Finally, late in the day, the River Jordan appeared ahead of us, curving like a giant serpent on the desert. As the outline of the river grew larger, we could see specks moving about by the river. They were, Jesus informed us, folks from surrounding towns, waiting for the Word. James and I and, to a lesser degree, Bartholomew, understood what he meant: Jesus, through communication with God, revealed his word, the formula for salvation (being born again from water and the Spirit, as explained to Nicodemus). The Word, as living thing, was therefore embodied in the messenger, which he would one day disclose was actually the Son, a part of the Godhead that, as I understand now, was deliberately left unclear at this stage. At this point in their spiritual development, the disciples were in no mood for such abstractions. For them this business at the river would be a simple matter; in Peter’s words, “Tell’em to repent and dunk’em.” Unlike the day we entered Jerusalem and were fearful, none of us were the least bit afraid. Jesus would tell us what to say. Though the prospect of performing baptisms seemed daunting, there were nothing threatening about this task. Despite the crowd waiting for us at the river, this was much better than worrying about Caiaphas and those priests. What could be so difficult about this rite? The fishermen weren’t worried. Why should I be? I had seen for this rite for myself. After what John the Baptist said to Andrew and Philip, knowing that Jesus was the successor of Jesus, we expected this undertaking as part of our roles. We were no longer fishermen, scribes, or footloose free spirits such as myself: we were disciples of the man John the Baptist called the Lamb of God.

Even if we had mind to, we were too tired to protest. The road we took to the river was nothing more than a glorified path, winding up and down through canyons and ravines in the most desolate part of Palestine. When we arrived at our destination, we were hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. Hot, sweaty, and parched as we were, the water actually looked inviting. Bartholomew rose up shakily from his cart, pointing his cane, “Looky there, will you?” he shouted deliriously. “Isn’t it beautiful? At last: water—miles of it. I’m jumpin’ in. Yessiree!”

“Me too!” John exclaimed happily. “Last one in’s a dead fish!”

“You’re out of your head!” His brother restrained him.

James and I uttered tired laughs at their antics. Also delirious, Andrew and Philip mumbled excitedly to each other upon seeing this apparition.

“Jesus?” Peter asked hoarsely. “Is that the river? This better not be a mirage!”

“That’s the River Jordan all right.” Andrew announced excitedly. “I can see specks moving about—people: the Baptist’s followers. There’s hundreds of them.”

“It’s real, Peter.” Jesus said, shielding his eyes from the sun. “We have much work to do. They’re waiting for us: my sheep!”

“And you’re the shepherd!” exclaimed Philip.

“That’s correct!” Jesus grinned with approval.

Philip was the first to make this connection, but at this leg of our journey no one cared. I was seriously exhausted from the trek and watching over Bartholomew. Jesus boundless energy rankled me, yet I tried sounding cheerful and supportive. “Ho-ho, shepherd and sheep. How very clever. Can we rest first?”

“Of course.” Jesus nodded. “We’ll camp by the riverbank. I’ll say a few words to them. You men can set up camp. We’ll start baptizing in the morning.”

This, of course, caused everyone to groan. Abstractedly, I patted Bartholomew’s mule. Soon, the poor beast would have his fill of water and plants by the river. Like Bartholomew I planned on jumping in and ‘baptizing myself’ when the opportunity arose. I could hear my brother James, who had been stone silent most of the way, grumble, “This is getting strange. I know John performed this rite. I understand Jesus more than those fishermen, who accept him as their shepherd. Why do I have qualms about this? Jude, are we really going to baptize people? Why can’t we draw straws?”

“No,” I reassured him, “we all have to do it… This is how it starts.”

The very act of touching strangers in this foreign rite warred with everything James believed and the teachings he was taught as a temple scribe. If it made the rest of us squeamish, I could just imagine how it affected him.

“I know what you’re going through,” I tried consoling him, “your mind is drenched in the law…. This rite,” I searched for the words, “… isn’t written in the Torah. It’s something fresh and totally new!”

“I know this,” James replied grimly. “The fact is I don’t doubt Jesus’ purpose. The Pharisees, whom I served, see all slight changes to the law as heresy. You have no idea how hard this was for me. I have forsaken our religion, as I know it, to follow a heretic—the Anointed One, a madmen so named. It might be all right to disagree with the Pharisees on points of the law. If he challenges the priests, as he did earlier, however, he’ll become an outlaw—another revolutionary in their minds threatening the temple and its rites. Surely, the Lord was protecting him that last time. It was bad enough he attacked the money changers and animal sellers. Saying he could destroy the temple in three days was insane. Jesus is a marked man, Jude He’ll get into serious trouble if he keeps this up!”

“He already is.” I forced a smile. “He’s marked out by God. Jesus shocked us all in Jerusalem. The way Caiaphas let this pass with a veiled warning was nothing short of a miracle, no less than all the other feats he’s done. None of us want to do this act. Some of those people might be lepers. I personally think it’s disgusting. Tomorrow morning we follow in the footsteps of John the Baptist, the author of Jesus’ madness. If it had not been for John’s summons, which Amos delivered, Jesus might still be a carpenter, you would be a temple scribe, and I would be back on the road, searching for my niche in the world.… But here we are brother, following a miracle worker—a great prophet rivaling Elijah, Moses, or Isaiah, on the greatest adventure of our lives.”

“Adventure?” James sighed heavily. “I hope your right…. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe.”

Hearing him admit this, I knew he would be all right. In the days ahead, James would grow in his faith and commitment. One day he would become a shepherd in his own right. Today, he was faced with a test of his resolve as a disciple. To a lesser degree, the remainder of were being tested too. That moment, as we trudged in silence toward our goal, we heard a shout. Behind us a distant rider appeared on the road, growing larger, rippling as a heat chimera as he approached. When he was close enough, I could see Amos, John’s courier, galloping toward us. Because of his inauspicious appearance, I knew immediately something was wrong.

“Greetings from John the Baptist!” were his first words.

“Look, Jesus” I cried, “it’s our friend Amos.”

Before Amos could deliver the message given to him, Jesus introduced his disciples to him. Each of them, beginning with Peter, gave him a curt nod and perfunctory smile. Despite his Jewish name, Amos looked, with his rustic dress, Roman boots, and gladius, suspiciously like a Gentile, and was even dirtier and smellier than us. Dismounting his horse, he swaggered up to us, with his reins clutched in one hand, a grim look on his face. After tying the reins onto a nearby sapling, he took a long draught from his water skin, wiped his beard and pulled a scroll from his pouch.

“I have bad news rabbi.” He looked squarely at Jesus. “John, your cousin, was arrested.”

“We were afraid of this,” Jesus heaved a sigh. “It was just a matter of time.”

“He should’ve stuck to preaching,” I shook my head. “John never had any sense.”

“He was always head strong.” Jesus smiled wistfully. “God’s fool, he once called himself. He’s the forerunner, who blazed the trail—”

“Yes, yes” Amos waved impatiently, “he preached up a storm. I’m sorry rabbi; John was a fool, period! It was all right when he preached the ‘good news,’ as he called it—that was innocent enough, but John changed the subject. He told me that preaching the good news was your mission now. Lately, as you’ve heard, he’s attacked Herod for divorcing his wife and marrying his brother’s wife. That was suicide.” “But that’s not why John sent me…” he added, staring into space.

“How did you find us?” Peter asked, as he gathered his thoughts.

“Yes, Amos,” Andrews frowned. “There’s a hundred roads in Judea and Galilee. How did you find just this one?”

“John told me where you were going.” Amos shrugged. “There’s only one route to where he preached: the Jordan road. And lo and behold, here you are!”

“Well, let’s hear it!’ grumbled my brother James. “What’s John have to say?”

Striking a herald’s pose, Amos looked straight ahead and piped: “John asks this question for his cousin Jesus: ‘Are you the one who is to come or should we expect a another?”

In retrospect, I find this message astounding. After all of John’s fine words about Jesus, calling him the Lamb of God, Anointed One, and such, he still had doubts. At the time, however, that part of the question, ‘Are you the one…,’ was too abstract for the fishermen’s’ minds and could mean almost anything. They knew he had powers and was special, but the titles the Baptist gave him were puzzling for them. Even for my brother James and me the connection between what Jesus disclosed so far and who he was supposed to be remained unclear. What we all heard was that John was having second thoughts about his original claims, which made him seem foolish, especially to his onetime disciples Andrew and Philip.

“Wait a minute!” Andrew’s mouth dropped. “What was all that shouting at the river about? He called Jesus the Lamb of God and Anointed One. He said he would take away the sins of the world. Now he’s not sure?”

“I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it!” Philip shook his head. “That John the Baptist, would ask such a thing! Has he lost his mind? This doesn’t make sense—none at all!”

“John’s in big trouble,” Amos concluded grimly. “He should’ve stuck to preaching salvation. You don’t call the tetrarch those kind of names. He’ll probably lose his head.”

For the first time I could remember, Jesus stood there speechless as Andrew and Philip reacted to the message. Peter, James, John, and Bartholomew didn’t know the Baptist like Andrew and Philip or my brother James and I did. Such a vague question therefore brought little reaction from them. In the first place, like John, the fishermen weren’t sure what to make of Jesus. If they had thought of it, his question was something they might have asked Jesus, themselves. Annoyed greatly by John’s reservations, Andrew suggested to us that John had so many titles for Jesus because he wasn’t sure. He had, we learned then, also referred to his successor as the Chosen One and the Seed of David, even implying, without saying it outright, that he was the Messiah. For a long time, I thought John might be deranged, but I didn’t think that now. In spite of his doubts, John had introduced Jesus to the world. Even at this early stage of spiritual development, I understood this. He was the forerunner. Andrew heard him once say at the river, “I’m a voice crying in the wilderness. Make straight the way of the Lord!” Considering his frame of mind in Herod’s dungeon, I felt sorry for him. What dreadful torment John must be in not to be sure! With the exception of Jesus, my family didn’t like him very much after he became a prophet. John’s high-minded airs alarmed and annoyed them. He had broken Aunt Elizabeth’s heart after traipsing into the desert, abandoning his family and friends to join a band of fanatics who had turned against the temple and our established religion. He was, as Jesus would soon be, a heretic, with his own interpretation of our faith. I knew John better than the others, however. He had always been an adventurer. Until he called Jesus to the river, I saw him as an amusing eccentric, slightly mad but an adventurer nonetheless. I didn’t know back then what he had in mind. Then when I saw him in his animal skins shaking his staff and shouting, “Repent, the day of the Lord is here!” I shuddered at the thought. When he dunked Jesus in the river and turned him over to Andrew and Philip, I knew things would never be the same. I was certain Jesus fate was in the hands of a madman. The fears Mama had about John seemed to be proven. Only Jesus truly understood and loved our cousin. I know now how wrong I was about John the Baptist, but during this period of Jesus ministry, I was, like James, still a bystander. Thanks to John’s question what we heard Jesus finally say this hour filled us with great expectation.

“…Amos,” he began, releasing a pent-up breath, “my cousin’s spirits are low. I understand this. Go back and report to him that the blind will see, the will lame walk, the deaf shall hear, those with leprosy will be cured, the dead shall be raised, and the good news will be preached to the poor.”  After these incredible words, Jesus inexplicably added, “Blessed is the man who does not take offense of me!” perhaps with the Pharisees and priests in mind.

Amos flinched while hearing Jesus’ promises. Afterwards, a cynical smile cracked his parched lips. It might be that the courier had seen too many of John’s antics to be impressed, but for the fishermen, after the episode in Cana and hearing about Jesus miracles as a youth, these were heady words. Peter, James, John, Andrew, Philip, and Bartholomew gasped, slapped their foreheads, and whistled under their breaths. Jesus had just been warming up in Cana and Jerusalem. In their minds a great pageant was about to begin in Judea and Galilee in which they would be eyewitnesses and participants. Despite how special these moments were, my brother James and I were filled with mixed emotions. Jesus’ bold promises of healing were one thing. After all, what could be wrong with curing the sick and making blind me see? But his actions as a preacher boded ill for the future. Now that our cousin had been arrested for his inflammatory speech, would James and my brother suffer the same fate? Already Jesus had insulted the priests and, in their minds, defiled the temple. What would they make of a miracle-worker, whose aim was to change the established order? Nicodemus had warned us about the priesthood’s frame of mind. Even John, by sending his downhearted message, signaled to us his doubt.

After seeing and hearing the enthusiastic response of the fishermen, I wondered if Jesus would receive the same reception in other villages of Judea and Galilee. As James, I shared their enthusiasm up to a point. What tempered it for us was the conflict Jesus had setup between himself and our religion. Because of his studies with Nicodemus, which stressed the law and our tradition, James had much greater problems with this aspect than me. I expected Jesus to shake things up. For me, it wasn’t any sense of loyalty to the old order that was bothersome, for I was, in my own way, a maverick like him. I had no use for religious leaders of any kind whatsoever. I had seen hypocrisy and self-righteousness in priests, Pharisees, scribes, and rabbis too. My concern was based upon something much less noble than religion: fear. I had been with Jesus when the Baptist made those claims. I had seen his fervor when he retreated to the wilderness in what appeared like an insane enterprise at the time. My travels, often harrowing, introduced me to many kinds of people: both good and bad. I’ve been confronted with crooks, cutthroats, and thieves—evil and desperate men. Thankfully, neither Jesus or James have had to deal with such people. No one in my family have been exposed to this element and neither have the disciples, who appear, by their carefree behavior, to have lived in a sheltered world. But criminals aren’t the only dangers out there. Religious leaders, among both Sadducee and Pharisee, will incite the rabble to stone heretics and blasphemers. The Romans will go to great lengths, including crucifixion, to keep the peace. I found that people who made a lot of noise were at greater risk, especially if they defied authority. The rule, ‘a silent man, who keeps his counsel,’ lives longest, is something I learned the hard way. Of course, I didn’t expect Jesus to follow this rule. I just wished he wouldn’t defy authority. I was certain that, sooner or later, after witnessing his actions in the temple, Jesus would collide head-on with the Sanhedrin and civil authority. The history of our prophets should warn would-be messiahs how precarious this profession might be. Of all of the disciples, I understand this most clearly. Because of my life with Jesus and the events at the River Jordan, I felt I knew him best.

I understood that we would be baptizing people in the river. The question now was, ‘what would Jesus do next?’ There was much he hadn’t told us. I sensed a far greater meaning in all this. Jesus was the messenger of the Lord; that I was certain, but all those other titles clashed with his down-to-earth approach. My brother had chosen simple men and the mission of an itinerant preacher. He didn’t arrive on the scene as a great prince or religious leader espousing his cause. So far, excluding his disciples, his influence was limited to a handful of people in Capernaum, Cana, and Jerusalem. The latter city was tinged with great controversy—hardly a auspicious start. With the exception of James and I, he was leading a small band of rustics, much more excited by his power. At this point, the deeper layers of Jesus and his mission were beyond our grasp. Unlike the others, who left matters as they were, James and I understood just enough to make us anxious. We had grown up with Jesus. Despite our parents efforts to make Jesus seem normal, we knew he was special from the beginning. All of this so far, in Capernaum, Cana, and Jerusalem, was leading Jesus toward something overwhelming and incomprehensible.

I felt alone with my thoughts. James, who was more concerned with Jesus’ heresy, didn’t share my insight. Yet, knowing Jesus’ mind, I dare not utter it aloud. Today, after the promises he made to John, through his courier, he gave us a glimpse of what lie ahead. It overawed the fishermen. At that early stage in their spiritual odyssey, they couldn’t possibly know Jesus as did James and I. In an affectionate manner, they even made fun of him, impressed with his power but amused by his eccentric ways. How Peter, James, and John were able to write such inspirational Gospels later is a mystery to me. It only proves that their writings, if they in fact wrote them themselves, were divinely inspired. Jesus could have picked scholars, like James, and worldly-wise explorers such as myself, but his first disciples were a happy-go-lucky band of fisherman, who acted like children at times. Though occasionally fearful of Jesus’ actions, the other disciples looked upon this enterprise as a great adventure in their lives. Life would no longer be boring and routine for them. They wouldn’t have to work anymore or worry about family matters. Their family, as it was pointed out in Capernaum, were the followers collected by Jesus. Their welfare and futures were left in his able hands. They had, in fact, begun calling him the Shepherd and James and I thought of them as sheep. Unlike James who was convinced of their ignorance, however, I considered them opportunists, which made me no better than them. Unlike the fishermen, though, I had no illusions. Like the Baptist, Jesus was at odds with the priests and Pharisees. Nicodemus’ warning to him now haunted me. With his vast knowledge, Jesus knew the priests and Pharisees minds and how they would judge him after his actions in the temple. After the wonders he had already performed, this should have been obvious to all his disciples. While James was conflicted by Jesus unorthodox views, I was only worried about his welfare. I didn’t want him to be arrested like John. I didn’t care a wit about what he said as long as it didn’t get him thrown into jail.

******

Time was of the essence for Amos now that John waited for a reply, but it was late in the day. He and his horse were both exhausted from the rough journey from Jerusalem. Worried also about rumors of bandits, Amos agreed with Jesus to wait until morning. While the disciples went about making a fire and rolling out their pallets, Jesus took Amos aside to discuss John’s dilemma. It was very grave; Amos was certain John would lose his head, but John had brought this on himself. Amos appeared to be both disgusted and saddened by John’s situation. Considering the Baptist’s predicament, it must have difficult for him to stay the night, and yet he lingered for a short while the next morning. I can imagine what went through his mind as he watched the proceedings. He must have seen the importance of this event, which was probably the reason why he delayed his departure: Jesus taking over for John. A greater prophet had come to Judea. I sensed, as I watched him walk dejectedly to his horse, something much more. Things were about to be stirred up in Palestine. Jesus had already surpassed John in mischief. John had merely insulted Herod and his wife, and was about to lose his head. After turning the money lenders and animal sellers tables over and insulting the priests in the temple, Jesus was launching a whole new religion. So far he had kept his head and been merely rebuked by the High Priest…. How long would this state of grace last?

That following morning, after a troubled night of fretting over the baptisms and what this meant for the future, we were awakened gently with the toe of Jesus’ sandal. He meant business. I had suffered a fitful night worrying about Jesus’ enemies, more than anything else James dreaded committing heresy, and the other men merely dreaded the rite itself.

For a moment, as I gazed down at the River Jordan contemplating the ordeal ahead, Jesus’ voice brought me down the earth.

“Jude,” he hollered through cupped hands, “are you ready to baptize?”

“Huh?” I blinked, as he beckoned. “I guess so…. Do I have to?”

“Yes,” he said, wagging a finger, “everyone!” “You too,” he called to James.

The disciples were fickle. Though they thought it might be fun when it was first suggested, none of them were keen on the idea. James was in a panic. My words of encouragement had failed to convince him. “I can’t do this!” he replied, shaking his head. “This is unclean!” All of the disciples, in fact, including myself, found the idea distasteful. John and his brother James, who had always tried keeping pace with Jesus’ long stride, fell further and further back in the procession now that the assignment loomed. Even Peter, whom Jesus would call his ‘rock’ dawdled behind, and old Bartholomew, though frail and crotchety, gripped the cart fiercely, vowing not to budge.

Whereas James felt that this act would be sacrilegious and heretical, the old man, like the rest of us, considered it more unnatural and uncomfortable than anything else. Nevertheless, as I led the old man’s mule, I put a good face on it for James. “You haven’t been listening,” I counseled him again. “Jesus isn’t a Sadducee or a Pharisee like Nicodemus. This has nothing to with them. The priests don’t care about salvation. They don’t believe in heaven. They’re Sadducees. The Pharisees, though they believe in an afterlife, judge everything by the law. What Jesus has in mind has nothing to do with the law. John preached repentance, through baptism, and the promise of salvation—a matter of God’s grace, not the law. Jesus wants us to be part of this. What he has in mind is not found in the Torah.” “What he says,” I searched for the words, “… are orders coming directly from God!”

James had listened without interruption, apparently taken back by my words, which, of course, belied my mood. Though I meant what I said about Jesus, as he and the other men, I dreaded dunking penitents. The notion of handling wet strangers made me squeamish and, because of my libertine views, feel hypocritical as well. Who was I too play the Baptist? Despite my confidence in Jesus’ powers, I scarcely knew what I believed. Andrew and Philip were the only ones, other than me, who had witnessed this ritual, and even they hadn’t baptized anyone themselves. Jesus, John’s successor, was supposed to do this, they protested. John had always done this task himself, because it was a sacred ritual only holy men could perform. Now Jesus was changing everything. It was no longer a sacred thing.

Andrew and Philip, however, like the other men, were being stubborn and cowardly. For all my fine words, I was too. Jesus knew best. Illumination would come to me as the days wore on. I should have known by now that Jesus didn’t make mistakes. He had, even as a youth, led a perfect life. Everything he did had a purposeful outcome. Always he saw the big picture which our small minds couldn’t grasp.

Making a wide arc with his arm that moment, he shouted in a clarion voice, “Onward men. Don’t be faint hearted. We’re going to net a different kind of fish. Remember, you’re fishers of men!”

******

Amos sat on his horse, as we followed Jesus, watching from afar as the spectacle began. What happened when we finally reached the river was barely recorded in the Gospels. I remember reading a few lines from John’s Gospel that Luke had copied for himself: ‘After these things Jesus and His disciples came into the land of Judea, and there he remained with them and baptized.’ That was it. Considering how important this event was, it seemed to slight Jesus first great effort as a preacher. Because of John’s meager report about this important event, I wonder if he, like the other disciples, wasn’t embarrassed by that day.

Actually, after trial and error, our baptisms didn’t end so badly that day. Those first moments, as we looked out at the crowd, however, the prospect of baptizing that multitude was overwhelming. The crowd rushed toward Jesus, whom many remembered as John’s anointed. It was unnerving for us. My brother James prayed for deliverance. The fishermen made faces, as they were pawed, and Bartholomew was so frightened he scrambled out of his cart and hobbled back up the road. I was the only disciple to follow Jesus to the water’s edge, not out of loyalty but resolution. I knew he would have his way.

At this stage in his ministry, Jesus, in our minds, was a great prophet and teacher. That he was the Lamb of God and Anointed One, as John the Baptist claimed, was too much for us to digest. He appeared to have been deliberately vague about who he was. Though we found his ambiguity peculiar at the times, none of us really wanted to know. First and foremost, James and I knew him as a brother. The fishermen were satisfied with the label of prophet for him. After Jesus’ conversation with Bartholomew in which he absolved him of his sins, I’m not sure what he thought. Even Andrew, Philip, and myself, who heard John preach, distrusted the Baptist’s claims. Amos’ question from John, “Are you the one who is to come or should we expect a another?” cast doubt on his words. How could we know, if John the Baptist himself wasn’t sure? For their part, the people gathered by the river were a simple folk. Jesus was more interested in presenting the message than being the messenger. This we all understood.

In his first major sermon were many points he would cover in the days ahead. His main concern was, in the tradition of John the Baptist, to preach repentance and salvation.

“Children,” he began on a solemn note. “Gather close. John, as you’ve heard, has been arrested. Herod’s guards have taken him away. I will pray for him. You must pray for him, too, but also for yourselves. Many of you have traveled a long way, but aren’t ready to seek forgiveness for your sins. John cried out, ‘Repent, for the day of judgment is here.’ I come to share with you the glories of the Kingdom. It is a wondrous place where you’ll have eternal joy. Like the Garden of Eden, it will welcome the saved. There, you will never know pain or sorrow. You’ll be reunited with loved ones and friends—many long since passed. You shall walk with angels and sing God’s praises, forever and ever more.”

As Jesus extolled the wonders of heaven, it seemed to us that he had already been there. Though we didn’t know it then, this was, of course, true. Heaven had always been more of an abstraction as Pharisees and rabbis explained it, one of the unexplained mysteries of God. What struck Jesus’ audience with awe was when the sunlight broke from the clouds, a shaft falling on his white robe, causing his blue eyes to blaze, as if with inner heat. We, his disciples, had seen the sun play on him before, so it was not so strange for us. Yet it reminded us of just who Jesus might be. This wasn’t any ordinary man. He had power and majesty. Until the time came for us to enter the water, we would follow the Shepherd’s instructions like children. There was no turning back. Throughout his sermon, we waited nervously for the moment when he gave us the signal to begin baptizing his sheep.

I felt light-headed as I listened. I’m sure the other men felt the same. The crowd seemed even larger than when I visited the river the first time. When I looked back to where Amos sat on his horse, I couldn’t make out his expression. He had never joined John the Baptist’s followers. Would Jesus’ performance today change his mind? I wondered. For a spell, my heart beat so loudly I could scarcely hear Jesus’ words. I wanted to jump into Bartholomew’s mule cart and gallop away. Perhaps, I would ride with Amos awhile, until I decided what to do. But that thinking was a momentary fancy. I sensed even then, despite my doubts, that I was, like the others, on a one way trip. Would my discomfort at this singular ritual detour me from the greatest adventure of my life?

Suddenly, I awakened from this state, feeling ashamed for wanting to run but not as intimidated by the crowd. I remembered a fact from my first visit with John: unlike the people lined up at the River Jordan, most of the audience appeared to be observers, not participants, which implied we might have a much smaller task than expected. Despite this hopeful sign, though, it occurred to me that this was Jesus, not John. I was well aware of Jesus’ ability to sway crowds. In Cana, his words had prevented an angry mob from stoning a woman. Throughout his life so far, he was never at a loss for words or bashful when facing a crowd. It seemed quite possible therefore that he might sway the more timid souls, too. Hopefully, our first efforts as baptizers would involve a more modest crowd, yet I feared the worst.

“… Repentance follows admission,” Jesus was saying. “Unless you admit your sins, a nod of the head and simple baptism won’t work. You must pray to God for forgiveness, knowing which sins you must atone for. Some sins are much greater than others, but all of them can be wiped clean by true repentance. We do this today as a sign of God’s grace. Water is a symbol of your new life, but it doesn’t replace the baptism of the Spirit, which comes with prayer. My Father wants a contrite heart, not a frightened soul. He is a God of love, not vengeance. Sin is the inheritance of man. Many you are ignorant of how many sins there are. Moses was given commandments by God as your guide. Many of you have broken at least one of them. Some of you don’t know just how many there are.” “There are ten,” he said, raising the fingers of both hand:

On these holy tablets God commanded the Israelites:

You shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make idols.

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.

Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.

Honor your father and your mother.

You shall not murder.

You shall not commit adultery.

You shall not steal.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

You shall not covet.

“These are the Ten Commandments given to Moses,” exclaimed Jesus, “but I say unto you, that he who dwells on evil has committed the act in his heart. Therefore, if you covet your neighbor’s wife or husband, you have committed adultery in your heart. If you wish to murder your neighbor, you have committed murder in your heart. This rule is true for all of the commandments. How, you ask yourself, can one control his or her thoughts? The answer for those of you who haven’t been saved by God’s grace is simple: you can’t. To think pure thoughts you must pray. There is no sin when temptation appears in your path and you avoid it. The same is true for your thoughts. It’s only when you dwell upon your physical temptations or evil thoughts that it becomes s sin.”

“All evil actions begin right here.” He pointed to his head. “They become sins when they fester here.” He pointed to his heart. “So, I say to you,” he exclaimed, looking out at their expectant faces, “be responsible for your actions and avoid temptation. When you think evil, don’t let it dwell in your heart. Even without a list of commandments or my instructions, you know when you sin. Words and action against your neighbors and strangers in anger or jealousy caused Cain to murder his brother Abel. Cain knew from birth by Adam’s sin right from wrong. That same guilt which you feel is God’s breath on your neck. Turn away and strive to be righteous. Those of you who feel God’s grace now, pause to be sure, then step forward.” “Please, as you have done for my Cousin John, line up in an orderly fashion. For my disciples’ understanding, I will baptize the first in line. Let us begin!”

So far, only a dozen or more men and women, stood in line for baptism. At this point, Jesus introduced his eight disciples to the crowd, then, lowering his voice, turned and called discreetly to the fishermen, “Fisher’s of men. Who will follow my example?”

Peter and his associates would have to decide who would go first quickly. Happy that we weren’t on the spot, James and I lingered by the cart. Bartholomew, who had been under the tree at just the right time, might not have been a fishermen. I knew he was once a thief and highwaymen, but what he was when Jesus chose him had never been discussed. Yet he was with the fishermen Philip, his friend, and lived in Capernaum, a fishing town. Jesus’ call to the fishermen, whom he associated with, therefore seemed to apply to him. Retracing his steps back to the river bank, leaning heavily on his cane, he watched fearfully, as Peter stepped forth, not sure what to do.

When I shared my thoughts with James he replied drolly, “Considering Bartholomew’s past, he might’ve wondered whether he was fish or fowl!”

“Oh, I get it,” I tossed my head back and laughed, “fisherman, foul of the law—ho-ho, that’s funny!”

As we tried to make light of our situation, an old woman was led into waste deep water by Jesus. His words would one day be part of the ritual for baptizers of the faith.

“Daughter, are you sorry for your sins?” he asked, gripping her frail shoulders

“Yes.” She smiled radiantly.

“And do you promise to live righteously and walk with God?”

“Yes.” She continued to beam.

“Then, by my Father’s grace, I baptize you into a new life.”

Briefly, after he cradled her frail body, the old woman was fully submerged. When she surfaced, she was still smiling.

“You are reborn, daughter,” he commanded, “go forth and sin no more!”

There it was finally: that word reborn, which Nicodemus found so difficult to understand. Most of the disciples had retreated a comfortable distance from the crowd. Jesus stood there in the same spot, as the old woman waded back to the shore. Only a few times have I seen such peace on someone’s face. Peter, who stood a part from the others, had watched the baptism with trepidation.

“Oh dear,” he muttered, “it’s my turn.”

“Don’t be shy!” Andrew said, giving him a shove.

Remaining in the same spot, Jesus crooked his finger. Peter lurched forward, terrified by what lie ahead. While my brother James and I watched with amusement, the other disciples egged him on.

“Oh look men.” John giggled. “This is going to be good!”

“Be serious,” Jesus chided, “this isn’t a game.”

It must have seemed obvious to Jesus that our merriment was caused by nervousness, which in Peter’s case was outright terror. To make things more difficult for Peter was the appearance of a tall, overweight fellow, almost twice the fisherman’s size.

“You do this one master,” implored Peter. “He’s too big.”

“Nonsense.” Jesus frowned. “You can do this, Peter.” “Listen—all of you.” He looked back at us. “Not all of these people are in line. Most of them are spectators. I know you’re afraid. This will go quickly. Pay attention to my instructions.” “All right.” He turned back to Peter. “Now take his shoulders.” “That’s it.” He nodded with approval. “Body weight is less in water. As a fisherman you should know this. Grip his shoulders as you saw me do. After you speak to him, cradle his body and dunk him backwards. Make sure he’s pinching his nose.”

Jesus apologized to the big man. “I’m sorry sir. You’re being very patient.” “Now do it!” he commanded Peter.

“Uh, are you sorry for your sins?” Peter stammered, as he gripped his massive shoulders.

“Of course.” The man answered.

“And do you promise to be righteous and walk with God?”

“Yes.” He bobbed his head.

“Then, by Jesus’ father’s grace, I baptize you into a new life.”

As Jesus had predicted, Peter was able to submerge the big fellow, dunking him backward as the man held his nose. Where he erred was in how long he held him down. Surfacing for air finally, the man sputtered and cursed. For a brief moment, he looked as if he might do harm to Peter, but then broke into a wry smile. “Trying to drown me, are you?” He said good-naturedly. Not knowing what else to say, Peter concluded the baptism with the words, “You’re reborn, my son. Go and sin no more!”

“That was good,” Jesus said charitably, “a worthy effort, but next time, say ‘God’s grace, not Jesus’ father’s grace.” “Standby Peter,” he directed, motioning to John and his brother James. “By watching Peter, all of you know what not to do. From this point on, you’ll baptize in pairs. “Andrew and Philip, you are next, followed by my brothers Jude and James. I will work with Peter. Bartholomew will take this slowly at first. We will take turns in this order until everyone in line are baptized.”

“Take turns?” John protested. “There’s not enough of us, Jesus. The Baptist never had this big a crowd. What if they all want emersion?”

“Yeah,” Philip groaned. “I never heard the Baptist preach like that. We might bag them all!”

Everyone, myself included, thought their reasoning was sound. While James, Bartholomew, and I managed to keep our peace, the fishermen continued to grumble amongst themselves.

“Where’s your faith?” Jesus scolded them. “I told you I would make you fishers of men yet you panic in shallow water. The wages of sin are deep. Once, my faith protected Elisha and me in the Great Sea from a mighty storm. These are simple people. Why are you afraid?”

“We are simple people too,” John objected. “We throw in our nets and pull them in—for fish, not people. That’s all we know.”

Jesus waved away his objection. “You are not simple. This not all you can know. Open your mind and your heart.” “John and James—go and baptize my sheep.”

With the great apprehension, James waded out to take a young man’s hand. Unseen behind the youth was a beautiful, auburn haired maiden. The sunlight played in her hair and glistened on her fair skin, transforming John’s expression instantaneously from fearful to jubilant. When the rest of us caught sight of her, there was a similar reaction. In fact, considering the motley selection in back of her, I felt a twinge of jealousy.

My brother James muttered aloud, “John has all the luck. The others in line are mostly men!”

Peter, Andrew, and Philip sighed wistfully. Bartholomew uttered a lecherous laugh. John surged forward like a love struck youth, as James fumbled squeamishly with the young man.

“This isn’t fair,” he grumbled, looking over at his brother.

“Hello,” John greeted the girl cheerily. “I’m John. What’s your name?”

“Deborah.” She grinned shyly.

“Stop flirting with that girl,” Jesus called irritably. “Avoid temptation. Remember the moves I showed Peter.”

No one paid much attention to John’s older brother, James, except Jesus, who was more concerned with John’s attempt now. I glanced over to see James recoil from baptizing the young man, as if he was foul thing, yet manage to say the right words and perform the ritual expeditiously if not rudely in order to be done with the deed. Everyone hovered close to the bank watching John’s efforts. Gathering his shaken wits, he took the girl’s shoulders, trying not to look down her front. The young woman couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. After sloshing out into the river, much of her figure was outlined starkly beneath her dress. That moment I felt that stirring Jesus had always told me to avoid. The other men stared at her like ghouls. I could just imagine how John felt.

“John,” Jesus hissed, “do it!”

“Uh…Daughter, are you sorry for your sins?” He looked away as if to avoid temptation.

“Yes, I am!” She exclaimed in a lilting voice.

“And you promise to live right and walk with God?” His eyes traveled back to her front.

“Yes, yes!” she bubbled.

“Then, Deborah,” his voice creaked up a notch, “I baptize you into a new life.”

“Psst, John!” Jesus tried being discreet. “Say, ‘by God’s grace.’”

“Oh yes.” He slapped his forehead. “By God’s grace!”

Cradling her body, he seemed to gasp. In what was in reality an innocent reaction by John, the youngest of Jesus’ disciples, he appeared to be acting lecherously, when, in fact, he had simply been smitten by this beauty. He was tender and inadvertently affectionate. James, his brother, on the other hand, treated his subject rudely, dunking him like he might do one of his nets, and escorting him back to the shore as quickly as he could. When John submerged the girl, one hand appeared to slid down to her bottom, while the other gripped an armpit, as he told her in a sing-song voice to hold her nose. He was careful not to make Peter’s mistake by holding her down too long, but his actions, innocent as they were, spoke loudly to us. When he began raising her up, and looked down at her water drenched body, he was speechless a full moment as Jesus tried getting his attention.

“Oh goodness,” Andrew shook his head.

“John…. John!” Jesus grew frustrated. “Say it: ‘You’re reborn, my daughter. Go and sin no more!’”

“Oh yes.” John grinned with embarrassment. “You’re reborn, Deborah…. I mean daughter. Go and sin no more!”

“I haven’t sinned she muttered,” as John led her back to the line.

“Maybe you haven’t,” John replied shamed-facedly, “but I have!”

“Andrew and Philip,” Jesus directed curtly. “Its your turns.” “John,” he took him to task. “do you know what you did wrong?”

John looked down at the ground, muttering, “I think so.”

“Let me remind you then,” Jesus wrung his finger. “It’s all right to personalize this stage of salvation. Treat them gently and with respect. But your base emotions tainted the baptism. You’re young and foolish, John, but you’re not stupid. How do you think that looked to those people, huh?”

“Not good.” John hung his head.

“And you.” Jesus turned to James. “What you did was worse. John’s carnal nature got the best of him, but your intolerance got the best of you. You made that man feel like a leper.” “You overcame your intolerance, Peter, but all of you must use John and James’ bad examples to change you attitude.

We were all embarrassed for them. James was apoplectic, storming away, as if he might just walk all the way back to Capernaum. It appeared as if John might start bawling. To make the two brothers feel even more miserable, Jesus walked over to the crowd, addressing not only the recently baptized and those waiting in line, but the spectators as well. He explained to them that his men were recent converts, themselves, and had much to learn. In the future, he promised, if some of them happened to be in Capernaum, he would talk to each of them personally. They were welcome to join them there. After his rebuke of James and John and his words now, no one dared voice their qualms. When Jesus returned to our group, Andrew and Philip were already in the water baptizing sinners. Though hardly polished compared to Jesus or his predecessor, John the Baptist’s original two disciples tried very hard. They stammered a little and, after Philip’s effort, Jesus had to remind him not to hold down his subject so long, but Andrew and Philip conducted themselves humbly and with great respect. After them, my brother and I took our turns. Where Andrew and Philip had average-looking fellows, James and I found ourselves with a one-eyed man and misshapen crone, respectively. To impress Jesus, I grinned and bore it. My excellent memory served me well. Confronted with such an unclean-looking soul, poor James made faces and continued to cringe during the ritual. Unlike his namesake, though, who displayed his intolerance, James cheerful words camouflaged his true emotions.

Jesus said nothing about this, and only lightly criticized my congenial but expeditious performance. John and his brother, whose departure was short-lived, were each sent out again, as were Andrew, Philip, James, and I. That Peter was paired off with Jesus didn’t strike us as significant then. It appeared to us to me now, though, to have been purposeful. In the future Jesus would increasingly look to the big fisherman for leadership. After today, Peter would be the first to volunteer. At the River Jordan, however, though his heart seemed finally in it, he stammered and fumbled with each baptism and was all thumbs. Truth be told I wasn’t impressed with any of these men, least of all Peter—greatest of the Apostles.

Because of Jesus forceful personality, my attitude would change. All of the disciples would be forced to get along, gradually learning to love one another as brothers and servants of the Lord. Illumination would arrive in a timely matter. In the days ahead, there would be challenges as we tried working together. New, controversial disciples, who weren’t fishermen, would join our band. As Jesus’ brothers, James and I would be tested the most, as we tried fitting into this group.

******

After several hours of baptism, the line, as we feared grew significantly in spite of our performances, but finally ended with the arrival of a pair of clean-shaven men, whom we suspected to be Gentiles, maybe Roman spies. Despite the way the converts and remaining spectators shunned the pair and how the disciples resented having to baptize them, Jesus gave Peter and himself this task. His motto was then and would always be: First comes the Jews, our people, but turn no one away—Jew or Gentile. This seemed reasonable to me, as it did to the fishermen but it is here that my brother James showed me his blind spot. The law and old ways he learned from Nicodemus made him predisposed against Gentiles. He dare not say this to Jesus, but he told me that Gentiles were unclean and, because of their habits and not being circumcised, couldn’t be saved. By acknowledging John the Baptist and Jesus notion of repentance, baptism, and salvation, James was half-way there. For now, however, he thought that the fisherman themselves were unclean. He would remain squeamish about Gentiles throughout Jesus’ ministry.

As the disciples watched the crowd depart for nearby towns—some traveling great distances for this day, Jesus instructed us to make camp by the river. In the morning we would begin our trek through the towns of Judea, our ultimate goal Capernaum again, spreading the good news. We were so exhausted that hour, no one dare question his itinerary. Jesus and Peter handed out our rations, as we sat around our fire. Though weary to the bone, we ate ravenously and shared the skins of wine Bartholomew had tucked in his cart. I led the mule down to the river for water and brought him to a grassy area for fodder, then with the beast safely tethered to the cart, lie down between James and Bartholomew for a well-earned rest. As the shepherd standing watch, Jesus stood there leaning against the cart. I could see him glancing fondly at us, his newfound family, then gaze out at the sunset lost in his thoughts.

Though his first appearance in Capernaum, the wedding in Cana, and encounter in the temple were milestones for Jesus, it was on that day at the River Jordan that his mission really began.

Next Chapter/ Return to Table of Contents/Writer’s Den