“We will go up to Sepphoris,” Lazaros was saying that evening as they broke bread.
“Our other home is here, you are here. Marta has no taste for the South, not after all that has happened. It all makes much more sense than going back to Jerusalem.”
“We will all go back to Jerusalem one day,” Jesus said.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” Joses said.
“Well, I do,” he asserted.
Jesus squeezed his brother’s knee.
“We have to go back to Jerusalem,” Judas said, “or this, what we have right here, is it for us.”
“This is just fine,” Joses said. “The crowds do not bother us. We love each other. The Pharisees are quiet. We have peace with the synagogue officials.”
“It is fine,” Judas agreed, “if we want to do nothing. But I was under the belief that we were not here merely to do nothing, to be comfortable.”
He looked to Jesus.
“Forgive it, Master, but that’s the only way to say it.”
“Judas, we have had quiet for all of a month if that,” John said. “Leave him alone.”
“I am only saying—”
“Leave Judas alone,” Jesus said. “He is right. We have not moved forward because I have not received the next step. I will not walk blindly about, doing this and doing that just because… It is not my time.”
John and Judas nodded.
“Yes, Master,” they both said.
The truth was these were sweet days and no one, least of all Judas, wanted to lose them. These were the days when they could relax into love and friendship with each other, when their growing community could become tightly knit, where Peter could watch his daughter grow, and Andrew and James fish long into the night and sleep long into the day. These were the days when John woke up in Jesus’s arms and closed his eyes, binding those arms tighter about him, and when Magdalene and Joanna and Susanna, who had experienced more sorrow than women should, sat like girls on the housetops, braiding one another’s hair and laughing, and the boats came in and off of the blue sea and the sun shone on the mountains across the sea.
But that evening there was a knock on the main door of the Alphaeus house, and Matthew went to answer it.
Soldiers were at the gate, and where there were soldiers, there were nosey neighbors and yes, even heads of the community.
“Sebastian?” Matthew said.
“Is Jesus here?” the soldier demanded, looking most unsoldierly.
“Of, course,” Matthew said. “Of course. Come in.”
The soldiers entered the house, and Matthew shut the door on the others, and Jesus rose as Sebastian and Simon and Rufus, and others he had never known, entered the atrium.
“Our centurion needs you,” Sebastian said. “Would you come?”
Peter barked out a laugh and Sebastian frowned.
“It isn’t like you could refuse,” Peter said.
But Jesus nodded and was already wiping his hands and pulling a great grey mantle about him as they headed out into the evening. As Jesus was leaving with soldiers, the people in the surrounding houses outside of the city followed in shameless curiosity, and already the disciples and family were running after.
When they approached the city gate, there were more soldiers, but mostly citizens, and Jairus was there with Symeon and others of the synagogue and at the head of the soldiers was the centurion of Sebastian’s cohort, a rough looking man with the face of a sad bulldog, who startled the crowd by running toward Jesus in his ragged cloak and worn breastplate, and genuflecting before the rabbi.
“Lord,” he said, “my servant lies at home paralyzed, suffering terribly.”
Jesus nodded and said, “Take me to him.”
But the centurion, who had helped to build the synagogue understood at least some of the laws of the Jews and knew that, perhaps, to enter into his house would make the holy man unclean, and he said, head still bowed:
“Lord, Sebastian and Rufus and other of my men have told me of you. I have seen your works, and though you may not remember, once you gave water to my men when we traveled to Sepphoris, and another time, I hear tell that you stayed with men dying on crosses, and then comforted the men who had crucified them. In this hard world, you have brought light. You bring it even know. You have given joy to my men and raised the daughter of my friend Jairus.
“I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”
The centurion gripped Jesus’s feet and declared, “I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed.”
And when Jesus heard this, he was amazed and he looked about those gathered and declared, “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith. I say to you now, that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
Then, placing his hand gently at the side of the centurion’s head, Jesus said, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would. It is done.”
The man rose, kissing the hand of Jesus, and in a gesture, he motioned for Sebastian and Rufus and his other men to form loosely around him. With not a hint of doubt that Jesus’s word was fulfilled, they turned and marched toward the centurion’s home.
They had barely made it back to Alphaeus’s house when came a runner, shouting, “It has been done. It has been done. In the center of the town they are shouting about the centurion’s servant. He almost died, but he lives in great health. They say it happened the moment the Master declared it. And he wasn’t even there!”
And before Jesus was properly situated, a woman came to the house with a sick child, and then a man with a blind brother, and then one whose spirit was crushed, who screamed in his sleep and knew no peace.
“I believe they will be coming all night,” Judas whispered, and Mary said, “Well we should put on more food and more coffee, certainly.”
In the night, many who were demon-possessed were brought to him, and he drove out the spirits with a word and healed all the sick.
John was startled when Jesus pushed some of those to him, when Jesus said, “Heal them.”
He was startled when he actually could, when the power flew from his hands, and suddenly, there were the other disciples, all working with Jesus, healing like him, like Magdalene walking on water, and they were all laughing in delight, and Simon Zelotes declared from the prophet Isaiah, as tears ran down his eyes:
“He took up our infirmities
and bore our diseases.”
As the night wore on, they were not worn out, but energized, and when John looked to Jesus’s shining face, he perceived that Peter’s face shone the same, as did Philip’s as did Nathanael’s as must his own.
It was near morning when they finally closed the doors to the house, and Jesus seemed burning white in his robe, collecting all the lamp and candle light of that house. As he stood among the disciples he said, “The time of rest has ended.
“I am sending you out into the world, two by two.”
“Oh, yes, Master!” Judas enthused, but Andrew murmured, “What?”
“Do not go onto the road of the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans,” Jesus continued. “Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. As you go, preach this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven is near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.”
They were trying to listen, and they had, after all wondered what would come next.
“Do not carry any gold or silver or copper in your belts. Take no bag for the road, or second tunic, or sandals, or staff; for the worker is worthy of his provisions.
Whatever town or village you enter, find out who is worthy there and stay at his house until you move on. As you enter the home, greet its occupants. And if the home is worthy, let your peace rest on it; but if it is not, let your peace return to you. And… if anyone will not welcome you or heed your words, shake the dust off your feet when you leave that home or town.
“Truly I tell you, it will be more bearable for Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town.”
These were his last words on this most surprising night. And after he had said them, he sighed with satisfaction, and in his loose white robe, turned around, and tramped upstairs to bed.
“Will you let me go so easily,” John whispered, only half joking as he lay in Jesus’s arms that morning.
“That may be the hardest part,” Jesus kissed him light on the cheek.
He sighed, “In truth it will be hard to let any of you go. And it has been so long since I’ve been alone.”
“You will not be alone,” John said, pressing his back into him.
“Magdalene will be here. All of the women. Aunt Mary…”
Jesus brushed his beard over John’s shoulder, and he gazed over his dusky skin while he ran the back of his hand over his side, his thighs, down his leg.
“Did you really think I would just remain here while you all are gone?”
“I didn’t know,” John said, swallowing and repositioning himself. “You are a mystery to me, cousin.
“We will meet again. On the road to Samaria.”
“Samaria?”
“Aye, and I will go down to Jerusalem—”
“No!”
“Yes. I will go with others and see what I see and say what I say.”
“Must you?”
“Yes.”
John sighed.
“Come back alive.”
“I will, Jonni,” Jesus squeezed his shoulder. “It is not my time.”
“And when it is your time?”
“No,” Jesus said. “We will not speak of that. Not this morning. This morning is the beginning of the world.”
John turned to him and touched his face.
“Then love me.”
“There’s wine and beer and all of last night on my breath.”
“Then rinse your mouth and love me,” John said, turning away and taking a drink of water himself, and then handing the small jug to Jesus.
Jesus rinsed his mouth and swallowed and drank and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and he kissed John, They pressed together so tight, they were making love before they had begun. Jesus said, “Yesterday I had no idea where we were going or what we were off to.”
“And now?”
“Now I know.”
