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Chapter Thirteen

Jonas, the Leper

Our return to Capernaum was a highlight in our journey. As foot-sore, hungry, and out-of-sorts wayfarers, the sight of the glistening lake beyond this quiet town was a balm to our travel-weary group. I could see the fishermen’s faces brighten now that they were on familiar ground. Jesus had taken James aside during the last few leagues, probably to scold him for his attitude. James had spoken little to me, until we reached Peter’s house. Then, after washing up at the well and lounging idly in his home, we made peace. Though it would take awhile for him to modify his rigid stance about religion and the Gentiles, we agreed to disagree. The feast that Esther, Peter’s wife, and his mother-in-law Dinah prepared that afternoon was beyond our expectations. Our dinner, with a modest amount of wine, included lamb, fish, lentils, fruit, bread, and a pastry Esther made especially for the occasion.

Peter had introduced his family to members of my family when we traveled to Capernaum in order to bring Jesus home. What a folly that turned out to me! Esther, his plump wife, who had been stand-offish that day was a bundle of energy this time. Moving more slowly, his wizened little mother-in-law, Dinah, who assisted Esther with the meal, cast us irritated looks. Here they are again, she might have thought when we arrived at Peter’s door: Jesus’ smelly, unwashed disciples. Now that we were cleaned up and fed, though, Dinah was more cordial. Esther, exhausted from her work, mopped her brow with her apron as we settled down to eat, also managing a tired smile.

Contrasting these no-nonsense women, was Peter’s daughter Bernice, a shy, silly, child-like adolescent of fourteen, who appeared addled in the head. When Jesus talked to Bernice, she became animated, chattering nonsensically, but then, as if her mind cleared, she began making more sense. It almost seemed as though Jesus had cured her of her addle-mindedness or at least brought her out of her shell. When we were all served, a long-winded prayer by Jesus thanking God for our safety during the journey and the converts made to the Way was followed a blessing for our meal and then praise for Esther and Dinah for preparing our food and Bernice for dishing it out and making sure our mugs were full. Afterwards, as we waited impatiently to eat, he also thanked Peter for letting us use his house. The truth was, of course, now that Peter was a disciple, and Capernaum appeared to be the focal point of Jesus’ mission, this was, as Jesus indicated earlier, our home base. His family must have sensed this by now. After a few days, we would realize just how important this town would become.

Today, before we began eating, our meal, Jesus held up his hand, indicating one more delay.

“What now?” Bartholomew grumbled under his breath.

“I think a few words by my men would be appropriate!” he announced, glancing at Peter our host.

“You want me to start?” Peter pointed at his chest.

“Yes.” Jesus nodded. “A short prayer will do.”

If this was a test, Peter failed miserably. With the exception of James and I, the remainder of his disciples faired little better. Jesus had wanted all the disciples to offer separate prayers now, but Peter became tongue-tied and mumbled foolishly, as did Andrew and John. John’s brother’s effort also fell far short of Jesus’ expectations, as did Philip, and Bartholomew, was so bashful, he gave Jesus a blank look. That most of them would become fluent preachers themselves, I would never have imagined. None of the fishermen or Bartholomew were the least bit eloquent. Though they had been taught a special prayer by Jesus and heard our shepherd pray countless times, they recoiled at the thought of doing this out loud.

Giving Bartholomew a look of reprieve, Jesus turned to James, who bristled with embarrassment but managed to give a short, concise prayer. When he came to me, I was ready with one I had rehearsed in my mind. Recounting the highlights of our journey, which I thanked God for, I included Jesus miracles as, well as our success with the crowds, until finally, close to the end, I heard grumbling among the diners.

“Moses beard.” Andrew groaned. “He’s giving a sermon.”

“And thank you lord for this sumptuous feast,” I concluded, “Amen!”

“Very correct!” Jesus reached over and tousled my hair. “Now let’s eat!”

******

After dinner, we wandered out to what many people called the Sea of Galilee, which Peter explained was actually a fresh water lake that map-makers call Lake Gennesaret. “Now the Great Sea,” he added, with a flurry of his hand, “is salt water. So is our Dead Sea, where the river Jordan ends, but, unlike the Great Sea and our lake, there are no fish in it.” “Too much salt!” he said, making a face. I knew these fact already but expressed great surprise, marveling at his knowledge. I had made progress in gaining Peter’s friendship, so a little flattery was in order. The other fishermen listened politely too, but could care less. I was careful, after my recent arguments on the road, to hold my tongue, listening patiently to their small talk at the right times, agreeing at others, and trying not to stick my foot in my mouth. It was important for me and, though James wouldn’t admit it, for him, too, that we fit in. John and his brother James had been quite stand-offish, but, at the wedding in Cana, Andrew and Philip had already begun accepting us into the group. Now Peter, Andrew, and Philip almost treated James and me as equals. In John and his brothers case, they at least acted with civility. To be completely accepted by the fishermen would just take time.

My defense of Gentiles hadn’t helped my relationship with John and his brother James very much nor had my previous outbursts on the road made me popular with Peter, Andrew, and Philip. But that was behind me. The fact that James and I had been adopted had been a factor in our gradual acceptance, but that moment, as we walked along the shore, I vowed not to brag about my family. All our strange, wonderful, and frightening episodes would lead me, as the fishermen say, into deep water. I would let Jesus say controversial things and, for my brother James benefit especially, avoid airing anymore heretical views. Despite the resentment they once had for me and my lapses of judgment, the fishermen no longer frowned at me and grumble behind my back. I was beginning to feel like one of them. Gradually, even John and James were coming around. After what he said after our encounter with Regulus, however, it would take longer for them to warm up to James. I would, in the days ahead, try to convince him to be cooperative or at least keep his opinion to himself—an effort I would struggle with myself. In this endeavor, I must try to set an example.

Despite the preparation the disciples were getting from Jesus, I wondered how much of it was sinking in. James was just stubborn, but often the fishermen and Bartholomew appeared, by their facial expressions, not to comprehend. I, on the other hand, absorbed information quickly. Because of the memory God blessed me with, I retained it like a sponge, pulling out historical tidbits in a flash. With this knowledge and also the insight into Jesus behavior, dating back to when we were children, I knew better than others what lie ahead. For a moment, as the shepherd stood back, watching his small flock chatter amongst themselves, I wondered how these men could make on impact on Galilee and Judea when they were sent out to preach. I feared that our brother James might drop out altogether after awhile, and I wasn’t even certain about myself. Despite this feeling, a sense of destiny filled me as I listened to the men recount the mission so far. We were such a small congregation: a onetime bandit, a narrow-minded student of the law, and five barely educated fisher’s of men. A more motley bunch I couldn’t have imagined… And there was me, who knew most of all what Jesus was capable of and yet, more than anyone, remained torn with doubt. Right or wrong James knew what he believed. Other than believing in Jesus, I wasn’t so sure. Questions still plagued me. Would Jesus be satisfied in just spreading the word? How far would all this go? Though he was tight-lipped about his role, was he, in fact, really the Messiah? Considering the expectation of the Jews, was this even an appropriate title for a man of peace?

******

We retired at sunset, weary to the bone, dropping like sacks of grain, in various corners of the main room. I was awakened the next morning with the sound of movement around me. I was the last one to rise at Jesus’ coaxing but the first one ready for our morning meal. Something significant was about to happen here in Capernaum. As soon as we stepped outside into the morning sun, I felt it as a prickling at the back of my neck. It might have been a religious feeling, but more likely my suspicions were acting up. Considering the controversy Jesus’ message generated with the priests and Pharisees, I wasn’t sure it was a good prickling or a bad prickling, until I noticed Jesus’ mood. He was in an exceptionally high spirits, as he motioned for us to follow.

“Come on men,” he called cheerfully, striding far ahead. “We have work to do!”

“Work?” muttered John. “What kind’ve work?”

“A harvest.” Jesus called back mysteriously. “The wheat is ripe!”

“As in farming?” Philip scratched his head. “I thought we were fishermen.”

“You are fishers of men,” explained Jesus, “but now it’s time to gather the harvest.”

When it appeared as if Jesus was out of earshot, Andrew asked Peter, “Is he serious? Are we really going to harvest wheat?”

“No, of course not!” replied my brother James.

“I think it’s like being fishers of men,” Peter decided thoughtfully. “People are our fish. So wheat are people too. But with Jesus you can never tell.”

“It was a figure-of-speech,” James said succinctly.

“Really?” Philip looked back innocently. “And what’s that?”

James looked at him in disbelief. “It means when you say one thing and mean another.”

“Why would you do that?” John frowned at him.

“Yeah,” grumbled his brother, “men should speak plainly, not play with words.”

James rolled his eyes at him, too. “I understand the problem, James. You’re right; Jesus doesn’t speak plainly. After hearing all his strange words, no wonder you men are confused.”

“I’m not confused,” James snapped indignantly. “You’re the one with your head in the clouds!”

“Listen my friend,” Peter drawled thoughtfully, “I know you and Jude have more education than us, but maybe we’re not supposed to understand everything all at once. I don’t think anyone understands Jesus, even you. Jesus gets his information directly from God.”

James slapped his forehead now and muttered silently to himself.

“Psst! Psst!” I whispered, tugging his sleeve. “Stop scowling at Peter. These men may not be educated as you, but they’re not stupid. Don’t talk down to them!”

Glaring with resentment at me, he said nothing. I was worried about James. Unwittingly it seemed, he had faltered in his relationship with the fishermen. Whispering back and forth as we walked by the shore, they glanced back at him. John and James were frowning with disapproval, while Peter, Andrew, and Philip seemed amused. None of us was sure what Jesus had in mind. He appeared to be taking us on a leisurely walk down the shore. A cloudless, seamless sheet of blue covered the sky. Lake Gennesaret sparkled radiantly in the morning sun. That moment I expected Jesus to say something inspiring, but he continued his slow pace, wrapped in his thoughts. As luck would have it for poor James, a pile dung sat directly in his path.

“James!” James!” I tried getting his attention.

“… What’s wrong?” He responded belatedly.

“There!” I pointed excitedly. “On the ground!”

“Oops!” he mumbled. “Too late. Sheep droppings!”

Leaning on his cane, Bartholomew managed to chuckle as foot and dung collided. Stopping in their tracks, the fisherman retraced their steps. I tried not to laugh at my brother’s misfortune as he hopped around on one foot.

“Whoa, James,” Andrew crowed, “you stepped into it this time!”

“Oh look!” Philip giggled. “It’s squishing between his toes!”

Pulling off his sandal, James rinsed it in the water, and slipped it back on. “Cursed sheep herders!” he growled under his breath.

“If we follow Jesus, the Shepherd, that’s bound to happen,” Peter replied light-heartedly. “Maybe that was a sign from God!”

“Serves him right!” grumbled John.

Up a ways, having wandered from their herd, a small number of sheep grazed lazily along the shoreline. The sand below was dotted with more of their droppings, encouraging us to swerve away from the lake. By now, Jesus, who had been out of earshot, looked back at his straggling band. I don’t know if he heard all our conversation, but he glanced with disapproval at us. Instead of walking further along the lake to check on how Peter’s helpers were tending the nets, as the fishermen expected, Jesus now turned sharply, walking directly toward town. A look of determination came over his face. Suddenly, several men and women appeared on the side of the road, muttering amongst themselves

“That’s Jesus, the miracle worker,” cried a townsmen. “Welcome back, Jesus!” he shouted, elbowing his way through the crowd.

“Hello neighbor,” Jesus returned his greeting. “This is Joshua, the baker,” he announced for James and my benefit.”

“How did he know that?” Peter asked Andrew. “I never told him that.”

“Jesus knows everything!” I answered cheerily.

“Jesus,” a woman called out. “We heard about you. Word is you turned water into wine!”

“Yes, Rebecca,” Jesus nodded reluctantly. “Word travels fast.”

“Ho-ho, that’s not all,” an elder cackled, “cured blind girl, he did, and raised an infant from the dead.”

“They were Samaritans,” replied a less friendly voice, “our enemies. Why would he travel there?”

“He’s a trouble maker,” a second critic responded. “That fellow defiled the temple. He turned over money tables, loosened the animals, and insulted the priests!”

“Uh oh.” James gave me a frightened look.

There were a few more grumbles in the crowd—enough to worry James but the great majority of the onlookers were friendly, excited that Jesus had returned. There were many more exclamations of people recalling his miracles. Despite a small group of detractors, it was quite a reception. It seemed as if most of the town had been alerted by the commotion, forming lines, several people deep, on each side of the street. At this point, however, we began to wonder where Jesus was headed. For several moments Jesus raised his first two fingers and thumb, folding his third and fourth into his palm, as if to silently bless the audience. We had seen this before when he baptized Miriam, the daughter of Hur. It would become a trademark of this wandering preacher. Instead of remaining where he was and preaching, as he had before, he led us through the crowd, greeting people here and there, as if they were long lost friends.

“Where’s he going?” James grew alarmed. “That’s in the direction of the synagogue.”

“Yep,” Peter observed grimly, “that’s where he’s heading.

“Oh no, not again,” groaned John.

“This isn’t a good idea,” James turned to me. “You remember what happened the last time? He was nearly killed!”

Recalling that incident in the synagogue and what happened afterwards, I shrugged my shoulders, replying bravely, “That was Nazareth, James. This is Capernaum.” The truth was, of course, this might not make any difference. I didn’t trust the Galileans after the last episode. If they would turn on Jesus in his hometown, what would they do in a town where he was a newcomer? What if he made the same claim here that he did in Nazareth’s synagogue? Who knew how many other detractors we would encounter in a place like this?

Up ahead, standing with a group of grim-faced graybeards and younger men, Rabbi Abram presented a nervous smile. When the rabbi extended his hand in greeting and invited Jesus to speak in the synagogue it almost felt like a trap. Introductions were politely made back and forth. Already, as we entered the synagogue, the room was packed with townsmen, allowing us standing room only. Though Jesus remained calm, it reminded us of our ordeal in Nazareth. As we trembled with fear, he followed Abram to the front of the room, while the Pharisees and elders stood nearby.

“Here we go again!” muttered Peter.

The rest of us trembled with fear, too frightened to speak.

This time, however, instead of turning to Isaiah in the Torah to legitimize his mission, Jesus simply preached. Abram’s congregation, in fact, appeared to be disappointed that his sermon was so tame. Looks of boredom or lack of interest characterized most of them. After simply quoting Isaiah from memory, he avoided identifying himself with the suffering servant, Isaiah’s other Messiah, and covered all the elements mentioned before—salvation and the promise of paradise, repentance of sins washed away by God’s grace, and the rite of baptism that signified the sinners were born again of the spirit to begin a new life. There was, he reassured his audience, no conflict with our holy scrolls (Jesus avoided calling it the old religion), and yet, when he was rudely interrupted by Ephraim, a venerable Pharisee, it looked as though he might be in trouble again.

“Why did you preach in Samaria?” he frowned severely. “Those people are accursed and impure.”

“That’s simply not true,” Jesus argued gently. “They worship the same God as us and claim descent from the Patriarchs, and have reverence for David, Solomon and the prophets of Israel.”

“We Jews are forbidden to enter Samaria,” Ichabod, a second Pharisee, pointed accusingly. “You know very well we’re forbidden to go there.”

Jesus now lectured to these narrow-minded men: “You would deny the Samaritans heaven because of what the Assyrians did to Israel? Assyria may have been accursed for dispersing the Israelites and replacing them with other peoples, but those people are still children of God worthy of salvation.”

He had stirred up the audience. Interest grew, as he made his case. For nearly an hour, as we fidgeted in the back room, he used scripture, itself, to prove the worthiness of the Samaritans, going all the way back to the Garden of Eden to make his point. Viewed the way Jesus presented it, everyone in the world, as descendents of Noah, would be considered children of God, but all Jesus had to do was remind his audience that those peoples who were forced to repopulate Israel were from the lands bordering Israel and were therefore children of Abraham.

“Let me remind you, Ephraim and Ichabod, by your own rigid standards of diet and circumcision, the Samaritans follow the Torah completely. Would you deny Abraham’s descendents admission to heaven because they’re from different tribes. Even our priests acknowledge Gentiles if they are circumcised and follow our dietary laws. Why then would you deny Samaritans already circumcised, who practice our laws?

The issue of Jesus preaching to the Samaritans now seemed like a trivial issue, and yet Ephraim and Ichabod walked out of the synagogue shaking their heads. As I looked around at the faces of some of the men, I saw a mixture of illumination and discord. It struck me then that, in spite of its innocent tone, Jesus message was revolutionary. By identifying himself with Isaiah’s suffering servant, as he did in front of the men of Nazareth, he had made himself a heretic in their mind. I was thankful that he stopped short of this acknowledgement in Capernaum, but even without identifying with Isaiah’s passage, a revolutionary message was there. As in the case of the bystanders outside, the deeds of Jesus often outshone his words. After answering questions from members in the synagogue about his alleged miracles, he was growing visibly irritated with the mindset of these men.

“I see a pattern,” James muttered. “Jesus offers people everlasting life. That’s the issue. After a few miracles, though, he’s a miracle maker—a magician or sorcerer in some folks’ minds. That’s all they care about!”

“Perhaps,” I murmured, glancing around the room. “People are awed by miracles, but I’ve seen rapture in many of their eyes. Don’t forget the people we baptized.”

“Shush!” Peter whispered shrilly. “Save your comments for outside!”

That very moment, Jesus ended his talk. A hush filled the room, as he stood in prayer. His final words were very short (“Thank you Father for letting me talk in your house.”) His referral to God as father, as we’ve noticed before, caused an undercurrent of grumbling, but no outbursts, as we expected. Shaking Jesus’ hand now, the rabbi thanked him for speaking to the congregation and, during an awkward moment of conferring with notaries of the town, allowed Jesus, unaccompanied, to exit with his disciples.

James was the first one to emerge outside the synagogue, breathing in fresh air as if he had been delivered from a crisis. The crowd lining the street had dispersed but there were many hangers-on. “There he is! There he is!” someone pointed. As Jesus exited the synagogue, he looked out at them, a dour look on his face.

“I think that went rather well!” Peter exclaimed.

“Yes,” Andrew agreed, “you put those graybeards in their place.”

Jesus was silent. Leading us away from the town toward the lake, he stopped, looking out at the glistening water.

“There’s two disturbing trends,” he said, holding up two fingers. “One is the Pharisees. Like the priests they won’t be won over. The second problem is this business of miracles.”

“My thoughts exactly!” James whispered in my ear.

“Looking ahead, I can see this latter problem growing. People would rather see miracles than hear words. The priests and Pharisees might very well call this sorcery in order to support their claims.”

“How do you know this?” Peter wrinkled his brow. “Are you referring to Caiaphas’ men?”

I wanted to say again, ‘Jesus knows everything,’ but I bit my tongue. There were many miles ahead of us, but I know now that Jesus was seeing into the future. The trend or pattern, as James called it, had just begun, but it would worsen when the crowds grew. From the outskirts of town, Jesus led us back to a remnant of the original crowd and preached his message again. This meant, of course, we would be baptizing more people. In fact, to our dismay, others were drawn back to the miracle-worker. I wondered then, as we toiled in the water dunking one person after another, if all of these folks were indeed repentant and understood what this meant. Were they hear because of the personality of Jesus the miracle-worker or because of the promise of everlasting life? Baptism, by itself, after all, was a mechanical procedure. The question plagued me so much, I barely heard my own words as I performed the rite. After an incredible number of converts to the Way, we were too exhausted to continue, so Jesus promised those people still waiting in line, he would return to Capernaum another day, which, to our relief, implied it wouldn’t be soon.

Retreating to Peter’s house, we were fed by his wife, mother-in-law, and daughter, who had waited expectantly for our return. Peter, Andrew, and John boasted about Jesus’ success today. With great patience, Jesus gave Peter’s family more details, from the parade through town, his reception in the synagogue, and the baptisms in the lake that followed. That night, the two women and Bernice asked to be baptized too. By then, as he complied with their wishes, we were all too tired to care. In fact, I don’t remember being so tired. In spite of my doubts about the crowd’s mindset, I felt a camaraderie with these men, who shared my labors. There was no place on earth that I rather have been.

******

The next morning, after rising sluggishly, splashing water on my face, and sharing a morning meal with the disciples and Peter’s family, I was ready for another day. What it might bring was in God’s hands, I decided. We were but motes in his eye. When I shared this thought with Jesus, he slapped my shoulder jovially, replying, “We are more than that!”

“Where are we headed now?” James came straight to the point.

“Yeah.” Peter smiled at Jesus. “What’s the plan?”

“As I told you before,” he answered, glancing around at the group. “I listen to God.”

“In other words,” James mumbled to me, “he doesn’t know.”

“Oh, he knows,” I said with conviction. “…That’s what worries me.”

“There are many towns in Galilee, Judea, and The Decapolis,” Jesus was explaining. “We must reach as many as possible.”

“Whoa,” Peter said, whistling under his breath, “that’s a lot of towns.”

“Hundreds…Thousands,” Andrew muttered to himself.

Philip, who had been grumbling under his breath, too, did a double take. “What?…What did he say?”

“We’re going to Galilee and Judea,” Jesus said with a flicker of irritation. “Perhaps the Decapolis—maybe even Perea if we have time.”

“Decapolis?” John shook his head in dismay. “And Perea too? I thought we were just going through Galilee and Judea.”

“I did too,” his brother admitted. “Peter’s right: that’s a lot of towns.”

“Yes, Jesus, it’s a bit much.” Andrew ventured delicately. “…. We’re fishermen, Jesus. How long is this going to take?”

“We’ll return to Capernaum frequently,” Jesus reassured them. “It’s our home base; I told you this. Don’t worry about such things. You’ll get plenty of fishing done. For now, let’s concentrate on the mission; we have much to do.” “The weather is mellow now, is it not?” He glanced around the group. You have plenty to eat, do you not?” “Look at the birds of the air.” He pointed to the sky. “Live by their example. They don’t sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

All of us gave Jesus blank looks. Though it was quite poetic, our concerns hadn’t been addressed. Unsatisfied with our reactions, Jesus shook his head with disappointment. “What’s wrong, men? We follow my Father’s map. I thought you men understood: this is a lifetime commitment. No one’s forcing any of you to come along. You came, of your own free well, to share my mission from God.”

“We’re sorry, Jesus,” Peter said contritely. “We’re just worried about our business. We’ll need money for food and travel. Except for our families, everything we make should go into a common purse.” “Believe me,” he added, glancing around the group, “we put the Way first. Nothing’s more important to us than spreading the word.” “Isn’t that right men?” he asked quickly, glancing around the group.

“Yes, Jesus!” Andrew and Philip exclaimed.

Everyone, myself included, nodded in agreement.

John’s brother James, who had lapsed into silence, cried out enthusiastically, “I’m with you, Jesus—one hundred percent!”

James had spoken for all of us. “Blessed are you James, son of Thaddeus.” Jesus slapped his back. “You might not say very much, but you say what you mean. Your mind is steadfast! Your heart is pure!”

His words, in fact, had seemed contagious. Though Jesus’ schedule was burdensome, we had all made the decision to come. Jesus had reminded us of our commitment. No one needed to remind us why we were here. Looking back at me, as we broke away from the group and strolled down the river bank, Jesus gave me a special acknowledgment too, but more quietly so as not to show preferential treatment.

“You’ve come a long way, little brother,” he murmured, after taking me aside. “I’m proud of you for your progress. Our brother will also come around, but it will take time. Please be patient with him and give him a nudge every once in awhile. You can see the future: the Way. James is still tied to the past—the old religion, which must incorporate the new. We’ll need James understanding of the law to do this. I need your optimism. This is still an adventure for you, and you see the bright side of things. The truth is, Jude, this is an adventure but also a leap of faith. You have no ties, as do the other men. You must be tolerant with the others and not judge them. Someday these men might just surprise you!”

Jesus’ encouraging words carried a slight rebuke, but were spoken gently from his lips. Because I was one of Jesus’ brothers, I understood the disciples earlier resentment when it seemed as though he was showing favoritism toward James and I. I wanted them to believe I was just one of the men. As we let the others catch up with us, I displayed a grim face so they would think Jesus had scolded me about something, then, when no one was looking, smiled slyly at him.

None of us knew where he might led us today. As long as Jesus was safe from harm, I really didn’t care. Everyone else hoped we might stay another day in Capernaum, but there was an urgency in Jesus’ movements now. Sooner or later, Peter reassured us, we would know our destination. Not wanting to annoy him or hurt his feelings, we kept our peace. Though I shared some of the other disciples concerns, I presented a happy-go-lucky spirit.

After bidding Peter’s family goodbye and promising that he would bring us back soon, Jesus set out on the main road leading north to the Decapolis. It seemed obvious to me, when I thought about it, that Jesus wasn’t really going to every town in Galilee, Judea, Perea, and Decapolis. What he must have in mind, I told James, was a sampling of towns and villages in each province. This sounded like sound logic to James, but the fishermen, who were simple men, had taken Jesus literally. They were, I was certain, still filled with uncertainty by this undertaking. Belying my outward mood of cheerfulness and devil-may-care attitude was my deeper awareness of the peril facing Jesus from Pharisees, scribes, and priests. Though we were striking out into the unknown, a cloudless sky above us and a comfortable breeze boded well for our journey. So far we had escaped serious trouble with the religious authorities and avoided the magistrates in previous towns. Just when it appeared as though we would exit Capernaum at last in order to find a new town, though, something dreadful fell over our path.

On the north end of the town, on the main road passing the synagogue, we encountered a leper. A safe distance away from this poor man stood townsmen shouting insults at him. The emaciated, horribly disfigured man was probably starving. Nevertheless, in many Jews’ minds leprosy was a curse from God for living a sinful life. I never believed that nor did James, but the fishermen were, like other Galileans, simple folk, who cowered in the background as Jesus approached the man.

“Unclean! Unclean!” the leper shrieked.

“What is that preacher doing?” cried a women in alarm.

“Tsk-tsk,” complained a Pharisee, clicking his tongue, “he’s going too far this time. That

man’s beyond help!”

“Yes, Jesus,” James screamed, “stay away from that man!”

The fishermen were horrified, and so was I. I assumed James squeamishness was also based upon fear of contagion more than ritual impurity. This time I didn’t blame him. All of the disciples, in fact, begged Jesus to stop dead in his tracks, but typical of the miracle-worker, Jesus decided to cure him.

“I’m a sinner,” croaked the noseless, earless man.

“All men are sinners.” Jesus reached out tenderly. “Your disease isn’t punishment from God. I shall heal your body and your spirit too.”

“Save me Jesus!” he fell to his knees.

“Bring me a water skin,” Jesus turned and barked at us.

Running up and handing his skin gingerly to him, Peter muttered, “Here master, take mine,” and then, just as quickly, ran back to our group.

“You have heard my message.” Jesus looked into his clouded eyes.

“Yes…from afar, least they stone me.” The man wept.

“You have suffered greatly,” Jesus said with great compassion. “Now you begin a new life.” “Jonas bar Simon,” he called out the man’s name, raising the water skin. “Are you repentant for your sins and promise to live righteously after God’s gift?”

“Yes, master.” The man wrung his hands.

Jesus prayed silently a moment. “Jonas,” he said, opening his eye, “do you accept His grace and gift of eternal life with your all heart and soul?”

“Oh yes, I do,” the man’s voice rasped eerily in this throat.

“Then,” Jesus cried out, emptying the water skin onto his head, “I baptize you with living water as a symbol of spiritual rebirth. Let the cleansing elixir also cure you body…. Rise up Jonas into your new life!”

From such a distance none of the disciples or townsfolk could see the man’s features clearly. Creeping like frightened children up to the scene, we beheld what would be one of Jesus’ great miracles. With the droplets still trickling down his face, a young man, of average appearance, with nose and ears and no sign of leprosy looked up at Jesus, his savior. We were speechless as was the growing crowd…. all except a Pharisee, who threw up his hands, shouting for everyone’s benefit, “the man’s a sorcerer. How else could a Nazarene perform such feat?”

The cut of Jesus hair and beard had given him away, but not one other voice was raised in protest. The Pharisee was elbowed aside by newcomers joining the crowd. In hushed voices, those who witnessed the miracle were informing the new arrivals. One tall, swarthy young man, outraged at the Pharisees words, ushered the graybeard rudely from the group. Because we were stunned by this wonder, we failed to notice who he was. Next to Cleopas, stood Matthias—the two men who first escorted my family and me to Capernaum.

“Well.” Cleopas grinned at Matthias. “Do you have any doubts now?”

“No,” Matthias exclaimed in awe, “I can scarcely believe it. Where there were no ears, there were suddenly ears. Where there was no nose, a nose appeared. Hair appeared where it long ago disappeared, and what was once a monstrous fellow, behold a new man!”

Though Matthias description of this event was not recorded by the apostles, it summed up this miracle the best.

“Master,” Peter spoke for us all, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“Let me come with you,” uttered Jonas newly formed lips.

“No, Jonas,” Jesus gripped his shoulders, “go home to Magdala, where you once lived, as a witness. We shall meet again!”

Jonas bowed his head, uttered his thanks, and, with illumination glowing on his face, walked slowly away. Not losing his momentum, Jesus complied with several members of his audience and, after saying the words, also baptized them. Each one of us eagerly assisted Jesus, emptying our water skins too. It was so much easier than dunking them in a river or lake, and yet the impact it had on us this time was much greater than before. This was equal in our mind to the curing of the blind girl, but was far more dramatic. For that matter, the infant, which Jesus claimed was merely sick, but which the fishermen and members of the audience considered dead, simply opened her eyes as proof of a miracle, whereas the leper’s catastrophic ailment, seen plainly by all and vanishing so completely, left no doubt.

Many of those witnessing this event were given the rite that hour, but most of the onlookers shied away from commitment. This was one pattern Jesus had told us about. Another pattern, he pointed out, could be seen in the mindset of those superficially joining the Way. Unlike people who had been drawn by his message, they were convinced by his miracles, not by his words. An example of this was seen in Sebaste, when Jesus raised Jonah, infant son of Job, from the dead. Job and a large number of his fellow Samaritans in Sebaste would become converts that day, but many of the conversions following this miracle wouldn’t last. The difference between true believers and mere admirers, Jesus explained, as witnessed in Sebaste, can often be seen in expressions and actions. Those with furtive eyes, who squealed, giggled, and fluttered their hands elatedly were most likely convinced by miracles. When the show was over, they would fall away. On the other hand, those illuminated by Jesus’ message, who had serious, tearful, and calm expressions, would, miracle or not, remain. There was, Jesus included, also a verbal reaction indicating superficiality, seen in converts who chattered excitedly about what they saw, rather than what they heard, as would true believers. From their chatter, much could be learned about their frame of mind. So often, I had noticed personally, it was the silent ones speaking the words and accepting baptism, who were the most serious about salvation.

Needless to say, Jesus much preferred such converts. Those convinced by his sermon were the true believers. I’m convinced that if he had his way, he might never have used his powers. Unfortunately, it appeared as though the majority of his listeners, even those standing in line to be baptized, were drawn by his reputation as a miracle-worker, not as a preacher. A significant number of them thought he might be a sorcerer or a magician. Like Gentiles I have met in my travels, who loved Greek drama, chariot racing, and gladiatorial combat, they saw Jesus as a form of entertainment. “What will he do next? They would ask themselves. “What miracles or great feats will he perform?” During Jesus’ final days among us, these sort of people, even those once professing to be converts, would turn away from him when the going was tough, while those, like Job, who took to heart his words, would be strengthened by what they had witnessed when the dark days came.

Today near Capernaum’s synagogue, there had been only one conversion, Jonas bar Simon, but it was a milestone in Jesus’ career as a preacher and would leave a great impact on everyone—disciples and townsfolk alike—witnessing the event. As my brother James would suggest to me, the miracles Jesus had performed so far could, under different circumstances, be attributed to trickery, exaggeration, and even coincidence. Though this wasn’t the case for Jesus, a charlatan could, with conspirators, manufacture such events. The healing of Miriam, daughter of Hur, could have been staged as was the miracle in Cana where water was changed into wine. If not trickery, Jesus’ wonders could have been exaggerated, such as the infant Jonah returning from the dead, where instead of being dead he was merely unconscious. For that matter, it could have been merely the power of suggestion when Jesus dispelled those troublemakers threatening us in Cana. Jesus’ disciples, myself included, even interpreted the sudden appearance of water during our journey as a miracle, even though that could have been mere chance. With an ounce of cynicism as opposed to imagination, almost everything could be explained away as trickery, exaggeration, or coincidence, but not the curing of the leper in Capernaum that day. A faceless, deformed wreck of a man had been made whole again, transformed by Jesus healing powers before our eyes. There was no way that could have been contrived.

******

That hour, as we discussed Jonas’ transformation amongst ourselves, Jesus spoke to Cleopas and Matthias. We didn’t hear what Jesus said to them, but they embraced him in friendship, gesturing with great animation at what they had seen. Upon visiting Capernaum again they apparently stumbled upon the scene, their faith renewed by what they witnessed, yet they didn’t join our group. In spite what he said about joining of our own freewill, I understand now that Jesus—perhaps following God’s purpose—picked his disciples carefully. Of course, it didn’t seem that way then. So far we were a motley band of ragamuffins, filled with the same purpose but united only by a growing knowledge of Jesus’ mission in the world. Today we had learned more of Jesus personal character. In the face of dangerous diseases, he was fearless, shielded by his faith in God. His handling of the man and his dismissal of leprosy as a punishment from God took some of the disciples’ dread out of this illness. It made us more compassionate and braver when confronting such afflictions in the future. He was a prophet, a healer, and harvester of men’s souls. We were enlightened and humbled by our experience with Jesus, and yet we failed to see who he really was.

Jesus, the Great Physician, could bring sight to the blind, raise the dead, turn water into wine, and even cure a leprosy with his power. What other great wonders lie ahead, we wondered that hour. Despite the heady feeling we shared, there was no time to sit back and reflect. It was time to move on, Jesus informed us after bidding Cleopas and Matthias goodbye. Though we had lost a few hours of daylight, he was adamant. All we had time for was a pause at the communal well to fill our emptied water skins. Because of the delay, we thought we might return to Peter’s house and wait until tomorrow, but off we went. Then, lo and behold, once again our departure was delayed. On the road out of the town, we heard two men shouting frantically for us to stop. We were all very tired and, at first, viewed what followed with dull, unblinking eyes. Restrained by the two men with ropes on each side of him was another man, who twitched horribly this way and that, foaming at the mouth. Upon recognizing this horror, we gasped, our eyes popping wide, shrinking away like sheep as before. Leprosy was one thing; this was quite another. We recognized this condition as one for which there was no cure.

Walking quickly up to the three men, however, Jesus stopped in front of them, looked up to the sky as if praying, and shouted in a loud, deep voice, “In the name of my Father, depart from this man!” That was all he said. The man stopped twitching and rolling his eyes, a look of serenity falling on his bearded face. At that point, the two other men loosened their grip on the rope restraining him. The sacred words and rite of baptism followed the removal of the rope and cleanup his companions gave him with water from one of the skins. The words were similar and the rite practically the same as before, but it was carried out expeditiously because of Jesus desire to get back on schedule. Not only was the man baptized into the Way but his two companions begged to be baptized too. Thus, as we resumed our journey, three more converts were sent off to spread the good news among family and friends and one more miracle was added to Jesus’ list.

That night on the edge of an unnamed village, we made camp, our heads swimming with images of what happened that day.

“Who is this man, Jesus?” Andrew muttered to Philip. “…We saw that leper, who was made perfect and a man who had the biting disease. Everything else was nothing compared to what we saw today.”

“Go to sleep, my brother,” Peter called from his pallet, “more wonders await the morrow. Jesus has only just begun!”

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