When the historical Jesus was crucified, none of his followers would've believed that the literal son of God had just died on the cross. Jesus himself wouldn't have believed this either. Being devout Jews, they all believed that there was only one God, Yahweh, and the notion that Jesus was a second God co-equal to Yahweh was alien to them. What his followers most likely did believe is that their hoped-for messiah had just died on the cross. And for them, that called into question whether Jesus had even been the messiah. The messiah was not supposed to die! He was supposed to help God destroy all of Israel’s enemies and usher in a new kingdom over which the messiah would rule and where God's faithful would live a paradisal existence till the end of time. But any doubt about Jesus being the messiah abruptly ended for his followers when three days after his crucifixion the news began to circulate that he had risen from the dead. It is then that the idea that Jesus was indeed the messiah and, moreover, the literal Son of God, co-equal to the Father, slowly began to develop. This, however, took centuries.
The first gospel to be written about the life of Jesus is the gospel of Mark. In Mark's gospel, Jesus is portrait, pretty much throughout, as being fully human, a man of flesh-and-blood. If the Jesus of Mark was indeed fully human, how would he have experienced his baptism, the days spent in the wilderness, the exorcisms, the miracles, the teachings, the conflicts, and the dying on the cross? That’s what I want to imagine in this story of Jesus. Of course, if Jesus was fully human, he had powers few other humans in the Bible possessed. But then some did. Think of Elijah and Elisha, for example. They too, with God’s help, healed the sick, raised the dead, multiplied bread to feed the multitude, controlled nature, and more. So when you see Jesus doing miraculous deeds in this story, don't say "See! No human could ever have done that." In fact, in the Bible, humans, with the help of God, actually could do some pretty miraculous things.
Let’s imagine Jesus a few hours before the opening of gospel of Mark. For four days, he’s been walking alone from Nazareth, the village where he lives, to Bethany Beyond the Jordan, a place hidden away in the Judean wilderness on the east side of the Jordan River. A few weeks ago, he'd heard that a prophet named John had appeared there and that he was proclaiming that God was about to destroy the present age of evil and that anyone who hoped to escape the destruction of the present age of evil and enter life anew in God’s new kingdom had better repent immediately and be baptized before it was too late.
When Jesus first heard the news, his heart leapt for joy. Could it really be true? For 400 years, no new prophet of the God of Israel had spoken. The last prophet to do so was Malachi, and Jesus knew by heart what Malachi had prophesied about the end of the present age: "See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall. And you shall tread down the wicked, for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet, on the day when I act, says the Lord of hosts.
Like many in his generation, Jesus was well versed in the tradition that spoke of the two ages: the present age and the age to come. The present age started on the day God created the world. But that world was almost immediately overrun by evil. The evil began when Adam and Eve disobeyed God and let disobedience and deceit become part of the fabric of God's creation. Then violence followed, when Cain killed his brother Abel out of jealousy. Next, some wicked sons of God came down from heaven to lie with the fair daughters of men, teaching them things they should never have known. By doing so, they broke the boundary God had set between heaven and earth and made evil cosmic. The children of those fallen sons of God were the Nephilim, and they were violent giants bent on seeding chaos and destruction throughout all of God's creation.
When God saw what had happened, he sent a mighty flood to destroy all but the family of Noah. But the flood killed only bodies. It did not kill the demonic spirits of semi-divine Nephilim. And cut off from both heaven and earth, when the flood waters receded, these disembodied demon spirits were left to roam the world in search of human bodies they could worm into and commandeer.
When God saw that after the flood, evil had again overtaken his creation, he decided not to intervene again. Instead, he would allow the evil to propagate and then let his chosen people choose. Would they choose for him? Or would they choose for evil? And then after some time, and at a time of his choosing, he would act to end the present age and destroy all those who had sided with evil. And then he'd begin a new age here on earth where those who had sided with him would live in peace and harmony forever until the end of time.
And if John could be believed, God was nearing his decision. God was soon to act. And what made John's prophecy even more intriguing is that John was reported to have said that God was soon to send someone else ‒ someone so powerful that John himself wasn’t worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of his sandals. And he said that that someone would baptize not with water but with the holy spirit. Who could that someone be? What figures did Scriptures say would appear when the present age was about to end and the new age about to begin? Elijah? Or a newly anointed Davidic king, the long-promised messiah who would help God defeat all that was ungodly in Israel and restore the nation to righteousness? Oh, what he wouldn't give to be there when Elijah or the new messiah would appear in Bethany Beyond the Jordan. But what baptizing with the holy spirit meant, he wasn't quite sure. And it did suggest that someone even more powerful than Elijah or the messiah might soon come. Was John perhaps expecting the Son of Man himself?
In the days that followed hearing the news, Jesus could no longer concentrate on his work, his chores, or his duties to his family and friends. All he could do was daydream about what was happening in Bethany Beyond the Jordan. And he started to think he needed to go there as soon as he could and offer himself as a disciple to John so that he could be there when the one more powerful arrived.
And so he decided to take on no more new work as a builder and just finish up the work he had already started. And when all that work was done, he'd leave family and friends behind for good to go help John do God's work. And yes, he had thought about the danger of becoming a disciple of John. The Romans didn’t look kindly on anyone pronouncing that their reign was just about over to be replaced by a new kingdom. He knew such utterances would be interpreted as sedition and that the Romans punished sedition with swift arrest and execution. But John was doing God's work in the wilderness, far enough away from the various seats of authority to be relatively safe. And if John was right, the present age of evil could end at any time. And so the Romans might be destroyed by God long before they ever got the chance to arrest or kill John or any of his disciples.
There was one thing, however, that concerned him a little about what John seemed to be doing in Bethany Beyond the Jordan. It seemed he was promising that people who repented of their sins would automatically gain entrance into God’s new kingdom. But that new kingdom wasn’t even here yet. So was the promise honest? What if people repented of their sins today and then sinned again the next day, or the next? Would they still be allowed to enter the new kingdom? He didn't think so.
And what if they behaved daily in a way that they thought was okay, but which in God’s eyes would not be okay at all? He’d seen behavior like that with some of his neighbors in Nazareth and also with people in other villages where he worked as a builder--people who felt superior to others, who spoke bad of them behind their backs, who were mean spirited, who excluded others from their gatherings and feast, who denied help to people who needed help, who were unforgiving to those who unintentionally did something they found offensive and cursed them for it. Would their repentance cover behavior like that, even if they never evem fathomed that that kind of behavior was sinful?
He had had real concerns about that, even before he heard about John and about baptisms of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. He had always imagined God’s new kingdom as a place of perfection, a paradise. But could God’s new kingdom be a perfect paradise if people were invited to live there who could daily behave in an ungodly manner? Would God even let them in?
He didn’t think so. Even the smallest of sins had a bit of evil in it. And God was not about to let any evil enter his new kingdom, no matter how small. Evil had entered the present age and had corrupted it to the point where God was about to destroye it. So having seen it happen once, would God allow people to enter the new kingdom if they had unrepented sins in them? He didn’t think so. He actually thought that sins committed unwittingly against neighbors and friends were some of the most unforgivable sins of all.
And so he was concerned about people being called to repent of their sins without someone making clear to them the everyday sins that also needed to be included in their repentance. And he was concerned that the people coming to John might not be told that just because they repented today, that didn’t mean they could go on sinning tomorrow. To enter the new kingdom, they had to be sin free. And the new kingdom could be today, or tomorrow, or next week. But it could also be next year, or the year after, or longer. And if they had any unrepented sins on their souls when the end came, they would not enter the new kingdom. Instead, they’d be destroyed like every other evil. And if they did not know that already, they ought to be informed.
He knew his ideas were radical, and so he wondered what John would have to say about them. Others with whom he had shared them said he was being too strict. They said no one would ever get into the new kingdom if God went by his notion of sinning. But John was a prophet, as close to God as a human being can be. So would John agree with him? And if John would agree, and if John was not already educating his penitents with similar ideas, would John let him share his ideas with them before they repented and were baptized? He would be honored if John would let him do so.
He's almost at John’s baptism site, unable to control his excitement. Soon he hears the crowd, their voices rising and falling, their bodies splashing in the river. These are people that he knows, people who struggle every day to survive, who daily eke out a living at the bottom of society in the land that God had promised them, but where now, they’re just one bad drought, one failed harvest away from losing everything. Jesus feels their suffering as if it's his own. And because he wants their suffering to stop so much, he begs God to let this be the day that he sends the one more powerful whom John is expecting so that the unbearable injustice that the foreign occupiers have spread all over this holy land can end this very day.
And then he sees John, standing waist deep in an inlet of the Jordan river in the late morning sun. He looks every bit the prophet Jesus had expected: wild, scruffy, and with eyes that burn with conviction as he calls penitents to repent of their sins. Between each baptism, he hears John call out:
"Believe, O Israel, that only the Lord is our God, our lord only..."
"Obey his commandments, always..."
"Repent and be ready for when the new kingdom arrives..."
Hearing John’s words, he knows he’s hearing the words of a true prophet. John’s voice is the first in a dozen generations to call Israel back to its God. And his message couldn't be clearer: the present age of evil is about to end and the age of God’s justice is about to begin. Repent now to be included in God's new kingdom. But what he doesn't hear is words like "Go and sin no more," or "Search your soul not only for your offenses against God, but also for your offenses against your fellow man." But he's only been here a minute. Perhaps John is yet to speak similar words. And if not, he can perhaps talk to John later today and ask him to include them.
Two men approach him who appear to be John's disciples. Following their instructions, he removes his belt, his shoulder bag, his cloak, and his sandals. And when directed, he wades into the river to stand behind those next to be baptized. He's like a child, giddy with happiness, as he watches John's disciples go about their work. What they are doing, he hopes to be doing soon himself.
As he waits his turn, he asks God for forgiveness for anything he may unknowingly have done to stray from his commandments. And he thanks God that he's led him here to be in the presence of his new prophet.
And then it’s his turn to be baptized. He wades towards John. He looks in John's eyes and is touched by the goodness that emanates from them.
He watches John put one hand on his shoulder and the other hand on his head. Then he feels John gently pushing his upper body under the water. And after a few seconds, he feels John's strong hand slowly pulling him up again.
And just as his face is coming up out of the water, he gasps as his heart is seized with absolute terror.
From behind John's head, he sees the blue dome of the sky beginning to tear open into a black fissure as wide as his eyes can see. And simultaneously, he hears a tumultuous cracking and clattering as if a mountain has split apart somewhere nearby and has shattered into a million rocky pieces. And he cries out in distress, "Eloi, Eloi!"
Has he come too late? Is the present age of evil about to end before he's even had a chance to help John baptize a single penitent? But how can that be? At the end of the present age, the Scriptures say, the sun is supposed be darkened and the moon will no longer give its light, and the stars are supposed to fall from heaven, and the powers in the heavens are supposed to be shaken. But that's not what he's seeing.
Awestruck, he gapes at the fractured chasm above him exposing the watery darkness that was meant to separate the holy world of God from the evil world of man. The dark water, emblazoned with flickering golden light, is roiling like a stormy sea, threatening to come crashing down on the world.
He braces himself, paralyzed with fear, anticipating that the waters that God had separated on the second day of creation are about to reunite in a cataclysmic deluge worse than Noah's flood. But No! That can't be how it ends! God had promised no more floods. And God is always true to his word.
And indeed, as he continues to stare up at the fissure fearing what is about to overcome humanity, there's no sign of the roiling water beginning to come crashing down.
And he sees no clouds and the Son of Man coming down with great power and glory. So this can't be the judgment day. But then what is this?
And then he sees something ethereal in the watery fissure come fluttering down ‒ so softly, so peacefully ‒ like a dove ‒ and he sees it descend on him.
Puzzled, he strokes his wet hair and regards his hands dripping with water.
But before he can race through his knowledge of Scriptures to search for an answer as to what this is, he hears a voice that sounds like rumbling thunder, call down from the fissured dome:
“You are my son,
the beloved;
with you I am well pleased.”
And then to his wonderment, he sees the fissure in the dome slowly close and the sky return to a heavenly blue.
Openmouthed, he continues to stare at where the sound of the voice had come from. Was that the voice of God? Who else's voice could it have been?
And with his fear instantly turning to joy, he repeats the words he'd heard come down:
“You are my Son
the beloved
with you I am well pleased”
He knows right away what these words mean. And the meaning is astounding. "You are my son!" are the words used in Scriptures to anoint a new king, God’s chosen one, the messiah! God has just announced to the world that after centuries of waiting, Israel again has a king. And this king has just arrived in Bethany Beyond the Jordan to help God end the evil of the present age and usher in his new kingdom here on earth. John's prophecy has just come true. And he's so overwhelmed at God's announcement that his heart is aching from unbearable joy.
In wild expectation, he turns around and around in the water, rapidly scanning all the faces around him. Where is he? Where is Israel's new king? Where is the messiah who will help God usher in his new kingdom? He desperately wants to lay his eyes on the anointed one and offer himself up to help him in any way that he can.
But to his dismay, he sees no one who looks regal like a messiah, valiant like a messiah, holy like a messiah. He sees only the poor penitents who were here before. And John. And his disciples. No newcomer, no one who stands out in the crowd, other than perhaps John, himself.
He quickly scans each face again, wondering how he could've missed the messiah. But again, he sees no one who looks as if he could be the messiah. He is rattled. How can this be? The voice unequivocally announced the coming of to the messiah.
Or had John been wrong about himself, and God had just pronounced John to be his chosen one after all?
He desperately tries to catch John's eye to see if perhaps John has suddenly been transfigured into the messiah. But John has turned away from him and is baptizing another penitent, seemingly unaware that something extraordinary has just happened.
And then it strikes him! Why hadn't it struck him immediately? Not a single person in Bethany Beyond the Jordan seems to have experienced what he just experienced. There's no sign of panic anywhere, no sign of fear, no sign of wonder or astonishment or joy. Everyone's going about their business as usual as if nothing has just happened, as if God had not just signaled that the messiah has arrived and that the end of Israel's suffering is near. And that could only mean one thing. Only he had seen the vision, only he had heard the words, and therefore the voice could only have spoken to him.
As that thought sinks in, he feels his body go slack, his mind go numb. He hears one of John's disciples call out. Jesus looks up at him, nonplussed. He's being told come out of the water, to make way for others. Apparently, he's blocking penitents from being baptized.
He slowly begins to wade to the bank of the inlet, his legs wobbly, his head reeling. He struggles to get where his belongings lie in the sand. He picks them up and walks in a daze to rock. He slumps down and stares out in front of himself at nothing in particular, his mind grasping for meaning but finding none.
This can't be. How can he be the messiah? He’s not a king, not a warrior, not from a noble family. Nobody outside of Nazareth even knows him. He has no authority, no followers. There's been a terrible mistake!
Yet, he knows! God doesn't make mistakes.
Mindlessly, he begins to tie on one of his sandals. Perhaps he misunderstood the words. Perhaps, he's gone mad. Is what he thought he saw and heard even real? It can't be. He must've had a waking nightmare, a vision from his own mind and not from the Lord. He's slept so little on his journey from Nazareth to here; it's worn him out. And this is the result – a cracked mind. How can he be the messiah? To believe that would not only be sinful, the epitome of haughtiness and pride, but he doesn't have any of the wherewithal to be the messiah. So how can he suddenly be pronounced as such, just like that, without any prior hint or warning?
He hears John continue to call out to the penitents. "Believe, O Israel, that only the Lord is our God, our Lord only..."
Had he perhaps fallen prey to the workings of the great deceiver, Satan. Had Satan just tried to tempt him into believing that he was the one more powerful than John? How absurd! No thought like that had ever crossed his mind. So how could Satan--or his imagination--have caused this? Simple! Neither imagination nor Satan needs truth to build a lie upon.
He's near tears. He desperately wants to believe that the voice was God's because that would mean the ending of the present age of evil has indeed begun. But how can he believe it, knowing that he can't possibly be the messiah?
He notices some people are pointing at him. Others are staring. He must look the way he feels--utterly in disarray. He can't think straight. John's booming voice is making that impossible. He needs to get away from here. He needs to be alone so he can pray for insight and wisdom and figure out what he should do next.
He finishes tying on his other sandal. He fastens his belt around his tunic. He quickly folds his cloak and lays it over his shoulders. Then he tucks the ends under his belt. Picking up his bag, he slowly starts walking away from Bethany Beyond the Jordan on a trail that leads downriver.
But after a few paces, he realizes he can't stay this trail. He'll run into traders on the move, shepherds, fisherman, Herodian soldiers on patrol, and he's not in any state to deal with anybody, certainly not a Herodian patrol. They might question why he's walking here by himself. And he's so flustered that, the moment he begins to talk, they will suspect him of concealing something and arrest him.
Impatiently, he surveys the terrain around him. Where can he go to be alone? There! There's a high hill, rising up a little to the north-east. In the wilderness that's on the other side of that hill, he might find a wadi where he can shelter for a while, out of sight of the world, until he can question the vision and the voice to determine its author. And if he can prove that it wasn't God, he can soon return to Bethany Beyond the Jordan and see if he can still be John's disciple, if that won't feel too strange after what happened. Or he can return to Nazareth around pick up his life as a builder again. But he will be so heartbroken that the vision and the voice hadn't been God announcing the impending end of the present age. Israel would have to continue waiting for God to send the real messiah for who knows how much longer, and that thought is torture to him.
But what if he finds proof that what he saw and heard was from God, what then? He shakes his head. Then he'll be at a loss. He won't know what to do, because he has no idea how God expects him to be the messiah.
He looks at the high hill in front of him. Then he turns around and looks at the spot where he was just baptized. He was here no more than fifteen minutes ─ if even that. And in that short time, his world has been turned upside down. And it makes no difference if the voice he heard was in his imagination, was Satan’s, or was God’s. He’ll never again be the Jesus he was who left Nazareth a week ago.
He turns and unwillingly walks toward the high hill. He doesn't want to go there. He'd rather be going anywhere else right now. But he feels as if he's being driven.
The heat of the midday sun and the enormous emptiness of the desert valley all around him make him feel ill at ease. This barren wilderness is the haunt of outlaws, demons, and wild animals. And if he’s not careful, he’ll fall easy prey. But then, it may very well be that he's already fallen easy prey.
The walk to the hill doesn't seem far at first glance, but in this heat and with all the uncertainty in his thoughts, any distance is far, especially walking up an incline that gets steeper the further he goes. And as he walks, he silently prays, "Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."
Soon, he can no longer hear the rushing water of the Jordan river or the voices of those being baptized there. All he hears is the crunching of the small rocks under his feet and the hot wind's intermittent rippling of the sparse, dry vegetation around him.
Could the vision and the voice have been a product of his imagination? It's possible. During the week it took him to walk from Nazareth to Bethany Beyond the Jordan, he'd eaten and slept precious little. And the combination of hunger and the lack of sleep could've made him see and hear things that weren't there. When his head came out of water after John's baptism, and he opened his eyes, it could've triggered his imagination to see and hear what he did. Is he sure that's what happened? No. But he would need a strong sign from God to abandon that belief.
Could the vision and the voice have been the workings of Satan? Yes! If Satan had seen something in the life he'd led thus far to make him think he was deceivable, the voice and the vision could surely have been the workings of Satan. So what could Satan have seen of him?
A sad smile crosses his face. Should he start at the beginning? He’s only human. Like everyone, he’s made mistakes. He cringes as he recalls what a haughty showoff he'd been when he was a child. He remembers how good he was at learning to repeat, recite, and read Scriptures, and how the elder in the synagogue school who taught him would constantly praise him. And so he'd constantly asked the elder to give him more Scriptures to learn. It was only later that he recognized he’d fallen in love with the elder's praise more than with the learning of Scriptures. When he realized it, he’d asked God for forgiveness. But by then, had Satan already made a note of his youthful pride?
And then he'd done the same thing again when he was a little older and should’ve known better. One day, the elder decided that he was old enough to read the Torah out loud during Sabbath services. But instead of focusing on the words of God he was reading, he was focusing on the approving smiles of those who heard him read. When he saw he’d fallen into pride again, he’d again asked God for forgiveness. But no doubt, Satan had been watching with glee, thinking he’d detected a pattern.
At the foot of the hill, the climb up begins gently but then steepens. Loose stones are shifting under his feet, and a little further up the hill, he suddenly slips back down, catching himself on a thorny bush, and winces in pain. He stands up and licks a pin prick of blood from the palm of his hand. He's a little shook but thinks to himself, "If this is the worst wound I suffer on this journey, it will be a godsend."
As he continues to climb up the hill, the desert heat is unrelenting. It isn't long before he has to stop under one of the scattered acacia trees to seek partial shelter from the scorching sun.
He unties his waterskin from his belt. It feels light. He shakes it. He should've filled it before he left the river. But he was in no state of mind to think of that then. And it’s not a big problem. The shelter he's seeking won't be more than a few hours from the river, and he can always double back to get more water.
He takes out the stopper from the waterskin, takes a sip of water, and then replaces the stopper. From the portion of his cloak resting on his shoulders, he fashions a cap to cover his head to shield it from the sun and then continues his climb up the hill.
He thinks of Satan again. Where else could Satan have seen him stray from the path of God. He remembers all those arguments he’d had with the elder about Scriptural interpretations. One argument in particular stands out. He’d been so sure of his interpretation of a passage that he completely dismissed the counter argument of the elder, so much so that the elder had screamed, “Right, Jesus! Only you and God know what this passage means! You’re right! No one else has any idea!”
He’d felt so awful afterwards that the apology he’d offered the elder didn’t seem weighty enough. And when he had asked God for forgiveness again, he’d wondered if God was also getting tired of his repeated offences. But someone who would surely never have gotten tired of it was Satan.
But then in self-defense, had he been wrong in the way he interpreted Scriptures? As he saw it, the elder was too stuck in his ways. The elder was always interpreting passages according to the letter of the law instead of looking also at the spirit of it. And that had bothered him so.
Case in point. One Sabbath, he’d helped a poor farmer pull his donkey out of a ditch that the stubborn animal had stumbled into. When the elder heard about it, he’d said he’d broken Sabbath restrictions. How so? When he'd asked where in Scriptures it says that doing good on the Sabbath could be wrong, the elder didn’t want to hear it and accused him of being too smart for his own good sometimes. Had Satan also made that same assessment?
He doubted that what he’d done had been a breach of Sabbath restrictions. How could helping someone rescue an animal that their livelihood depends on be forbidden on the Sabbath? That made no sense to him. But was it his place, as a teenager, to argue like that with the elder who only had his best interest in mind?
And yet their arguments intensified as the years passed. One day when some in the village complained about the Temple tax, the elder told them that they needed to be respectful of the Temple in Jerusalem. When he heard the elder say it, he asked him if that included being respectful if the leadership of the Temple acted corruptly? "How so acting corruptly," the elder had asked? How about their collaboration with Rome? Or their concern about their own wealth? Or their hypocrisy about caring for the poor while at the same time exploiting them?
Although many in the village knew how corrupt the Temple authority had become, the elder couldn't bear hearing it. He was so trapped in his illusions about how holy the Temple was that any criticism pained him. And it was after this exchange that the elder was no longer the same towards him. By criticizing the Temple, the elder seemed to have thought that he had committed an unforgivable sin. And had Satan come to the same assessment?
Halfway up the hill, he feels his calf and thigh muscles ache. He pauses to catch his breath. The climb is harder than he’d imagined, but he must continue to struggle up. He needs to find a wadi soon so he can be shielded from this unrelenting sun.
When he reaches the crest, a gust of wind tugs at his tunic and cloak and momentarily dries the sweat on his arms and face. He takes another sip of water and looks around in all directions. To the west, he sees the Jordan river with the hazy line of the Judean hills far beyond it. To the north, he sees rolling hills, pale, and empty. To the east, he can see the expanse of the Jordan wilderness stretching towards the highlands of Perea. And to the south, the shimmery haze of the Dead Sea. This is the barren land where so many whom God called spent their time hiding, learning, coping with what it meant to be called into the service of God. Is he one of them now? Or is he the dupe of Satan? Or the dupe of his own imagination?
He scans the land to the south-west of the hill, trying to find a clue as to where a wadi might be where he can hide. At first glance, all the land looks the same: ridges, folds, chalky hills, pale limestone stretching in every direction. But then he notices small differences. There, almost invisible upon first seeing, is a long, drainage channel running westward. It's a faint darkening of soil where water might've run in winter, a smudge of green where no green should be. And then he sees what appears to be a small cluster of tamarisks. He knows that’s where water has run off this hill for centuries. And that’s where a wadi could be.
With the spot fixed in his mind, he begins to descend the far side of the hill. A little way down, the ground drops away more quickly than he'd expected and the soil is a mixture of chalk dust and small stones. At times, he has to move sideways, one hand out to steady himself on the large boulders he passes. His sandals slip over and over, and he prays that he won't go tumbling head-first, all the way down the hill and ending his life as the messiah before it has even had a chance to begin.
Now the slope eases slightly, but the footing stays treacherous. He glances up every few steps to keep the tamarisk patch in sight. At times, it's not in his field of vision as he descends, but then he spots it again.
When he reaches the bottom of the hill, he continues to walk in the direction of the tamarisk patch. After some time, he comes upon a shallow gully, a sure sign that winter water has run here throughout the ages. He knows he’s on the right track. There has to be a wadi nearby.
As he walks, the sides of the drainage channel rise almost without him noticing. What was a shallow dip now becomes a more defined channel. The horizon narrows, and the sun is no longer directly beating down on him. The gully curves gently to the right, and he can feel the air getting a little cooler. He smells dust, stone, and a faint hint of dampness, left over perhaps from the storm he was caught in a few days ago when he was walking from Nazareth to Bethany Beyond the Jordan.
Now the drainage channel opens into a broader wadi running westward. This is what he saw from the hilltop: a long, gentle depression. The floor here is softer. His feet sink slightly into the silt. There are plants here: low shrubs; a few tufts of grass; and, farther along, the tamarisks he aimed for.
As he walks on, the wadi bends again, more sharply this time. Beyond the bend, the walls look higher and the channel narrows. He knows this is where the storm water will come rushing in if and when it comes, and although there probably will not be another storm so soon after the one from the other day, he won’t risk it. He needs to find another place to shelter.
He leaves the wadi and walks on, scanning the terrain as he goes. He decides to walk in a south-east direction, toward a line of low chalky hills. Soon he comes upon a shallow basin between two ridges with soft sand, scattered shrubs, and a few tufts of grass.
It looks promising. But as he steps in to basin, it immediately feels wrong. He smells the sharp scent of musk and knows wild animals have been here recently. And no sooner has he thought it, then he sees them.
He freezes. A pack of jackals is standing clustered around a pool of mud. And they’re eyeing him. He holds his breath as he fights to stay motionless. And he silently prays the words of David’s psalm, “Protect me, O God, for in you I take refuge.”
As the jackals stare at him, his fear intensifies. They look lean, ribs showing through their fur.
For a few seconds more, the jackals study him with menacing eyes. Then, to his wonderment and relief, the jackals slowly turn, one by one, and walk away.
He exhales. That was too close. And he whispers, “I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever.”
Still shaken, he leaves the basin behind and continues to walk further towards the low hills, conscious of the fact that behind every rock or bush more wild animals could be prowling.
But then it strikes him. If Satan had marked him as his prey, would those jackals have walked away so timidly without attacking? Or had he just received a sign from God that he had not fallen prey to Satan?
He snickers at himself for his foolishness. How could he have thought that he might be in the ban of Satan? He’s always tried to be holy because the Lord his God is holy. He may have strayed from God’s ways ever so slightly now and then. But never so far as to let Satan in. Never! That never happened.
Or is that just another of his prideful overestimations, this time about the unquestionableness of his piety? He’d been accused of that before, by his younger brother Jude, for example. Jude had been given a small copper coin once when, in an emergency, he’d helped a merchant fix a hinge of the door to his storage room that had unexpectedly broken. It had been a particularly bad harvest year, and instead of spending the small copper coin on something for himself, Jude had heeded the call of the synagogue elder to be especially charitable to the poor this year. And he'd told a few people about how he'd donated his copper coin. Soon, everyone in Nazareth knew about it.
Afterwards, he’d pulled his brother aside and assured him that he’d done a good deed. But then he'd explained that the next time he did a good deed, he shouldn’t tell anyone. He should just keep it between himself and God. Then God would reward him handsomely. But since he’d already been rewarded by the kind words of everyone in the village, why would God feel the need to add extra reward to that?
Instead of warmly receiving his brotherly advice, Jude had turned away from him in anger and had called him sanctimonious. And is that what he’d been? He’d heard the same from other siblings and acquaintances at times when he’d offered what he thought was appropriate religious advice. But had Satan also deemed that that is what his religious advice was--sanctimony?
He sighs. If Satan had wanted to tempt him, it was surely he, himself, who had given Satan the opportunity. He'd always demanded of himself that he live strictly according to the Laws of Moses. But he knows that he, like everyone else, stumbled at times. And lately, it was that he had more and more trouble controlling his anger at having to watch Israel's poor, oppressed, and forgotten continue to suffer at the hands of the foreign occupiers. After many a Sabbath service, he could be heard railing against the Romans and their collaborators so harshly at times that his family and friends worried he was slowly turning into a zealot. And was his anger directed only at those who were the cause of Israel's suffering? Or could Satan have surmised that he was unconsciously upset with God also for having delayed the coming of the new age for so long?
Yes, he had grown increasingly impatient. And many times, he’d cried out to God in heaven just as the prophet Isaiah had done for the suffering people of Israel, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!”
And as he recollects himself saying that, he stops dead in his tracks. He casts a questioning glance up at the cloudless sky and repeats the words out loud, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!”
Yes! Yes! That's what he'd prayed for lately, many times over. And when God actually did tear open the heavens and come down, he'd completely failed to connect it to his prayers. And of course that he'd prayed for it isn't proof that the vision and voice had been from God. But he doesn't dare deny it any longer. What he saw and heard could never have been his imagination, could never have been Satan. It could only have been God.
And the realization makes him sink down to his knees in the hot sand in deep reverence. And gazing up at the blue sky, his body trembling from the nearness of God, he whispers:
“Abba, Father, forgive my confusion at your calling. It felt too holy and too consequential to have been meant for one as unworthy as me. It was always said that you'd call a king to be your messiah, a mighty warrior, one from a noble family, but never a poor builder, a nobody like me. Abba, Father, no common man like me would ever have expected to be called to step into the role of the messiah. So please excuse my confusion. But I don't know what to think or to do right now, other than say, yes, Father, I'll do whatever you ask. I'll be your messiah. But what do I do? When do I start, where do I start? Having had no hint or warning that this was coming, I'm totally unprepared. And I fear failing you. Abba, what must I do as your messiah?
He continues to gaze up into the blue sky like a child who doesn't know his lesson, waiting to see if God will answer. But instead of God's answer, all he hears is the distant cries of screeching vultures.
He wipes the sweat from his brow. He knows better than to expect God to answer him directly. God says in Scriptures, “Hear my words: When there are prophets among you, I the Lord make myself known to them in visions; I speak to them in dreams.”
And was he already guilty of misinterpreting God's words in the vision by thinking God had announced the arrival of a king? God had anointed other messiahs who were not kings. The high priest, Aaron, and his sons were anointed; they were messiahs. And in a psalm of David, God calls prophets his anointed ones. That made much more sense. God hadn't anointed him as a king, nor as a priest, but as a prophet, a messenger to let the world know what God was about to do.”
He struggles to his feet and has trouble retaining his balance. He needs to get out of this scorching sun. He won't make it one day as the messiah if he doesn't find shelter soon.
He reaches for his waterskin and tries to sip some water. But there are only a few drops left. He's aware of the danger of going further without water. But if he were to retrace his steps and go back to the Jordan now, he wouldn't get there till dusk. That's the time the wild animals come to drink. And if he thinks God will protect him because he is the messiah, he should think again. God killed the sons of Aaron on the spot for doing a stupid thing.
He walks a little further, but then stops again and hangs on to the branch of an acacia tree. He's so tired and drenched with sweat that he doesn't know how much longer he can go on looking for the shelter of a wadi.
What kind of a messiah is he, anyway, he asks of himself. Look at him. How could John have prophesied that one more powerful than he was soon to come? He's not nearly as powerful as John, who can baptize from dawn to dusk without tiring. And he's at the point of exhaustion already, after barely a two-hour trek through this wilderness.
And why would John have felt unworthy to untie his sandals? He's no better than John. John certainly got his prophecy wrong. He was definitely expecting someone of stature, someone mighty, not some unknown like him who's still having trouble understanding why God would've chosen someone so unprepared to be his messiah.
But then it strikes him that he's being disrespectful to God. God did choose him, and so God must have his reasons. And it's his obligation to discover what God's reasons are. It's no small thing that God called him at this very moment. God has placed him at the juncture between the present age and the age to come. And undoubtedly, God is asking him to warn his people and lead the willing among them safely from one age to the other.
It's somewhat like what God asked Moses to do. So is he to see himself as the new Moses? In task, perhaps. But he could never be the holy man that Moses was.
He forces himself to start walking again, and he's immediately startled by how the land in front of him suddenly seems to dip dramatically. And after he walks just a few more steps, he sees what looks like the entrance to a wadi opening up before him. It's as if God has taken pity on him and has manipulated the landscape so that his search for the shelter of a wadi would be over.
The entrance is narrow and littered with stones he has to climb over. Once he's inside, the walls rise higher, swallowing up the direct rays of the sun, and he thanks God for this instant relief.
As he ventures deeper into wadi, it bends sharply to his right, and then, shoulder-height from the floor of the wadi, he sees a hollow carved into the left wall, the size of a large room. He climbs into it and inspects it. It’s almost as big as his family’s room in Nazareth. And even if there’s a storm and water comes rushing down the wadi floor, he’ll be safe. And he thanks God for having guided him here.
Standing in the middle of his wadi chamber, he unties his belt and lets it fall to the ground. He lets his bag and his cloak fall from his slumped shoulders. Then he throws his arms out to the side and tries to stretch some of the ache and the weariness out of his body. He inspects the wadi chamber for unwanted creatures and then uses his sandals to sweep away some small stones and other debris from an area in the back where he’ll probably try to sleep tonight. When he’s done, he sits down at the front of his wadi room and lets his legs dangle over the edge. And as he stares up at the narrow strip of sky peeking into the wadi. He wonders wonders if God is looking down at him sitting here in the semi-darkness. Is God still content with having chosen him for his messiah even though his enthusiasm for the role has been slow in coming because he is still so uncertain if he can actually do what God is asking of him?
He thinks again of Moses, how that holy man led a multitude of Israelites out of Egypt and to the edge to the promised land. For forty years, he led them through the desert and then, when the promised land was within sight, he angered God by striking a rock to bring forth water instead of speaking to it as God had commanded. And for that act, Moses was barred from entering the promised land. Is he going to make a mistake like that before he can lead a new flock of Israelites to the new kingdom? Will he die before the new kingdom comes and will he have to await its arrival from Shaol just as Moses? If so, maybe he and Moses can rise together during the general resurrection of the dead when God destroys the present age of evil. And then they can enter the new kingdom together if God will have them.
Why is he having such dark thoughts? Is it normal for one chosen by God to sink into despair? Oh, yes! It's very normal. Didn't even Moses say to God, "O my Lord, please send someone else” when God told him to go to the Pharaoh to let his people go because he feared he couldn't do what God was asking of him? And didn't Elijah fall into deep despair under a broom tree in the wilderness and say to God, "It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life."? And didn't Jeremiah say when God called him, "Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.” Was Jeremiah overjoyed to be called by God? And what about Jonah? And so many others? Prophets know that when God calls, it's never to ask them to go walk on a bed of roses; it's always to ask them not to give up when they're being pricked by the thorns.
He hears his stomach growl. He hasn't eaten anything yet today. And he has no provisions with him. Out of food, out of water, and alone in the wilderness. Not the evening he would've expected when he awoke this morning and made his way to Bethany Beyond the Jordan to be baptized.
He takes the stopper out of his waterskin in the hope of finding at least a few drops. He pokes in a finger and wipes his tongue and lips with the wet residue.
He closes his eyes and rubs his stomach, trying to press the hunger pangs away. And as he does so, he hears a dripping sound.
Water?
It has to be his imagination.
But then he hears it again. Drip....................drip....................drip.
It’s coming from below.
He climbs down from his wadi chamber, follows the sound with his ear, and by straining his eyes, he sees it. Water is slowly seeping from a thin crease in the wall. A small pool of water has formed in a stone depression on the wadi floor. With a cupped hand, he scoops up some water and sips it.
Ouch! That’s the hand he scratched up on the thorny bush earlier today.
With his other hand, he scoops some more water and sips it.
And then his eye catches a shrub almost hidden in the darkness behind large boulder just beyond where the water is trickling down from the wall. He sees that it's a sidr bush, and he detects a cluster of fruit growing among its thorny, twisted branches.
He reaches for one, careful to avoid the thorns, plucks it, and bites into it. It’s sweet. He plucks another, and then another, and then another, till they are all gone. And then he wishes there were more. But this will do for now. And it reminds him of when Elijah was in this same wilderness and the angels came and brought him bread and water. Yes, he’s in the same wilderness as Elijah was, and the angels are ministering to him too. And it’s another sign that God is not guilty of mistaken identity. God has indeed chosen him to be his messiah.
He struggles back up to his wadi chamber and from the narrow strip of sky peeking into the wadi he sees the first star appear. And as is his custom, he bows his head and whispers, "Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might."
He feels shivers all over his body as the heat of the day has given way to cool dampness in the wadi chamber. And he's dead tired. He should try to get some sleep.
He picks up his cloak, grabs his shoulder bag, and then lies down on the hard earth at the back of his wadi chamber. He wraps his cloak around himself like a blanket. He positions his shoulder bag and lies his head on it. Then he shifts his body several times to try to find a position that is comfortable. But on this hard earth, no position is comfortable. And after a while, he quits trying.
As he lies there struggling to find sleep, his mind drifts from one thought to another. He revisits the vision again, and it strikes him that just before he heard God's voice, he saw something come fluttering down like a dove and descend on him. What had been the significance of that?
He lets his mind scroll through Scriptures for verses about someone being anointed, and he quickly comes to another passage in Isaiah: “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me because the Lord has anointed me.”
Is that what came fluttering down? The spirit of the Lord God? Oh, it had to be. And in his initial fright at seeing the vision, he had completely missed it. But the spirit of God had clearly descended on him and marked him as the messiah. And it was right after that that God spoke those words: "You are my son, the beloved. With you I am well please." So even though he didn't realize it, that was the moment he must've changed. With the spirit of God on him, he's no longer Jesus, the builder. He's Jesus remade as God's messiah.
So then why didn't he feel anything? Why does he still not really feel as if he's the messiah? With the spirit of God on him, shouldn't he have acquired the messiah's knowledge, the messiah's abilities, the messiah's powers, whatever they might be? But then , he's thinking of the messiah in the terms of a king again, which he is not. Will he, as a non-kingly messiah, also have some special powers? He knows that some other prophets did.
He continues to think about the anointing passage from Isaiah, it strikes him that passage may also contain what God is asking him to do. It says, "The spirit of the Lord God has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, to provide for those who mourn in Zion.”
That could very well be what God is asking him to do. Bring the good news to the oppressed, to the brokenhearted, and to those who mourn their lot throughtout the land of Israel--the present age is about to end and the new kingdom is at hand. Bring the news to them. Don't expect them to come to Bethany Beyond the Jordan. Most of them are too weak or poor to make that journey. And many of them probably think they are unworthy of ever being invited to come live in God's new kingdom. Show them that that's not true. Everyone will be invited to come live in God's new kingdom as long as they'll quit sinning and will repent for the sinning they've already done.
It strikes him that if this is what God is asking of him, it's not without danger. Rome and its sycophants will not appreciate hearing his good news. And they may be fierce in trying to get him to stop.
He wonders what made God chose him for this task. God said he was his Son, his beloved, with whom he was well pleased. But why was he God's beloved? And why was God well pleased with him? What has he done to please God? Yes, he's always tried to live devoutly. He’s always tried to be holy, because the Lord his God is holy. But so many others have done that too. He’s tried to live a sinless, peaceful life, in harmony with everyone around him. But he’s not the only one who has done that. So what about him could've pleased God? Could it be what he wanted to talk to John about--his concern that so many people might think they were on the right path to the new kingdom when they were actually on the path to destruction--his insight that people needed to be shaken awake to their unwitting sinfulness if they wanted to be invited into God's new kingdom? Is that what had pleased God?
It could be. God, out of his goodness and compassion, could be giving his chosen people one last chance to get back on the right path. And so God has chosen him not only to announce the new kingdom, as John was doing but also to teach those who were lost how to get there.
He takes in a deep breath, and then blows it out, worrying whether he's right about anything that he's thought about what God wants him to do. But if he's not right, what can he do other than pray that God will correct him before he starts his mission.
Where should he start his mission? It's probably best to stay out of Judea for a while. It's too close to the centers of authority to to be safe. So probably, he should start in Galilee. Those are also the people he knows best. He knows their customs, what they like and don't like, what they tend think, and how the tend to act.
He might start in Bethsaida and try to enlist a few fishermen to help him spread God's message. Are there people more dependable than strong fishermen?
But if they ask why they should follow him, what will he say? That's what he's going to have to think about for a long time. That's what he's going to have to practice here in the wilderness with the thorn bushes and acacias as his audience. He needs to learn how to effectively deliver God's message. He needs to learn how to convince people that what he's saying is true. And he needs to learn how to teach them what must change in their behavior if they hope to ever live in God's new kingdom. And he can't leave the wilderness to start his mission until he's confident he's learned all that he needs to learn.
And when he's ready to leave the wilderness, the first thing he'll do is go back to Bethany Beyond the Jordan and inform John of what has happened. John needs to know.
That will be an awkward conversation. How should he broach the topic with John? Should he start by saying that God broke into history and pronounced him his messiah? John would see immediately that he's not the one he was expecting. Will John be disappointed? Will John even believe him? Will anyone believe him? Or is what happened today just too big for any human being to comprehend?
Just the spirit of God drove him into the wilderness after his baptism to learn what he needed to know to become the messiah, the spirit of God is now driving him out to go be the messiah. As he leaves the shelter of his wadi room for the last time, he wonders how many days and nights he spent there. Probably as many as Moses was on Mount Sinai, and Elijah on his journey to Mount Horeb ‒ just long enough for God's spirit to have turned him from who he was into who he needs to be.
He takes the trail back to the Jordan river that he's taken dozens of times the last few weeks when he needed to get water and to forage for food. He can see that he’s a lot thinner than he was when he entered the wilderness. He was never that skilled at foraging. And after the first night in the wadi, the angels weren't that generous anymore in ministering to him.
Once he gets back to the Jordan river, he'll take the river trail north to Bethany to consult with John before he heads for Galilee. He'll have to request a meeting with John because John won't know who he is. Will he remember his face? Even that's not likely, since he was baptized by him so many days ago.
He's dreading the meeting with John, but John needs to know what happened. What is he going to say? Should he reveal that God had come to him in a vision and had pronounced him the messiah? John might take one look at him and think, "You're not the one more powerful whom I was expecting." And if John were to ask for proof, what would he say? Perhaps he shouldn't even prepare what he'll say. He doesn't want his words to come out as a challenge to John's authority or to hurt his feelings. Perhaps he should just let his words be driven by god's spirit. That's the only way he'll keep from saying the wrong thing.
When he gets to the Jordan river, he decides to fill his waterskin before heading back to Bethany Beyond the Jordan. As he kneels down and lets the water flow into his waterskin, he notices a man, a woman, and a few children eating breakfast on a stress of bank between two large boulders a little way downriver. Jesus looks away, not wanting to disturb their privacy. But the man calls out, "Stranger, come and have breakfast with us."
Jesus puts the stopper back in his filled waterskin and stands up, conscious of how haggard he must look after so many days in the wilderness. "Thank you for your kind offer," he says. "But I'm in a hurry."
"Where you headed?" the man asks.
"Bethany Beyond the Jordan and then on to Galilee," Jesus says.
"You look too thin to be able to walk all the way to Galilee," the man says. "Stay and eat with us."
"I thank you," Jesus protests, "but I'm in a real hurry."
"I won't ask you why," the man says, as he slowly walks toward him. "A man's business is a man's business. But here. Take this piece of bread and this piece of fish and eat it on the way."
Jesus smiles at the man appreciatively as he accepts the food he's offered. He hasn't dare admit to himself how hungry he's been. He says to the man, "I can pay you. I have a few coins."
But as he reaches into his shoulder bag, the man says, "No, no, no! No payment required. Like the Lord, we watch over strangers."
"May God reward you a hundredfold for your kindness," Jesus says. And certain that he is talking to a devout Jew, he adds, "I've heard from the highest authority, that the kingdom of God is very near. Believe it, and if you continue to walk in the ways of the God of Israel, as you've just shown you do, you’ll undoubtedly be part of that new kingdom when it comes."
"Blessed are you for saying so," the man says. "God's new kingdom can't come any too soon."
"Truly I tell you," he says. "Your children will still be children when it does."
The two men smile, nodding knowingly. Then wave at each other.
Jesus climbs back up to the trail and then continues on his way to Bethany Beyond the Jordan. He breaks the bread and fish in half, rolls one half of each in a cloth he has in his shoulder bag, and then nibbles on the other half of the bread and fish as he walks. After all the locust, bitter greens, honey, and occasional fruit he's eaten the last few weeks, this food is a feast, and he's thankful for it. Its people like these who will populate the new kingdom of God.
It felt good to have spoken God's message out loud for the first time. Saying it, he actually felt a little like the messiah. And he hopes that that feeling will continue to grow.
It’s midmorning by the time Jesus get back to Bethany beyond the Jordan. But he's puzzled and concerned when he doesn’t hear the hum of human activity or John calling out in his booming voice to the penitents.
He frowns. Could he be in the wrong place?
When he gets closer, he sees a solitary young man, perhaps in his middle teens, sitting on a rock among the willow trees, the same rock he’d sat on just before he fled from Bethany Beyond the Jordan after his baptism. The young man is mindlessly throwing pebbles into the water.
Jesus calls out to him. “Young man! Have you seen John? John the baptizer?”
The young man shakes his head. “He’s gone,” he says, as he throws another pebble into the water.
“Gone?” Jesus asks confused. “You mean, he’s gone elsewhere to baptize?”
“If only,” the young man says.
“What do you mean, 'if only'?” Jesus, asks, growing more concerned.
“I just heard from somebody he got arrested.”
“Arrested?”
Jesus feels his body recoil at the young man's words.
"When? How?" he asks the young man in an agitated voice.
His thoughts are racing. He'd known this danger existed, but he hadn't expected it to happen here in Bethany Beyond the Jordan, at least not this soon.
“Some guy told me it was three days ago. Henchmen of that ass, Herod Antipas, came and hauled him away.”
“That’s not good,” Jesus says in worriment, more to himself than to the young man.
“No! Not good at all,” the young man says. “Father heard what John was preaching and wanted the both of us to be baptized before the end came. So he came down from Abila last month. And I came down from Abila yesterday. What a wasted trip.”
"Why didn't you come together?" Jesus asks, his mind still trying to figure out what to make of John's arrest.
"When Father heard about John, he wanted at least me and him to get baptized. Mother's sick and can't travel. And my little sister is blind, and my younger brother is lame. So since one of us had to be home to help them, he decided he'd go get baptized first. And then me. But looks like I missed out."
Jesus is touched by the young man's disappointment and is eager to try to make things right for him.
“I can baptize you if you want,” he says. “So then you won't have to feel like your trip from Abila was wasted.
“You’re not one of John’s men, are you? Would it count the same as with John?”
The question makes Jesus think again about what John had said about the one more powerful baptizing with the Holy Spirit. That's certainly not what he's offering the young man since he still has little idea what the phrase meant. He can't recall any words in Scriptures that talked about baptizing with the Holy spirit. But he can think of passages where the prophets talk about the spirit being poured out over the house of Israel, its descendants, and on all flesh in the final judgment. So maybe that's what John meant. Baptizing with the Holy Spirit will happen at the end. But for now, all he can offer is to baptize this young man just as John would have--with running water from the river.
“Yes, it will be the same,” Jesus assures him. “But you must promise to repent of your sins and believe me when I say that the kingdom of God is near. You’re old enough to know what repentance means, right?”
“Yeah, repentance is. Uh. It’s uh. It's like. You know. Like..."
Jesus steps toward the young man and smiling, puts a hand on his shoulders. “Listen and hear," he says. "Repentance means being sorry ‒ truly sorry ‒ for every time you broke a commandment of the God of Israel. Sorry for every time you failed to love your neighbor as yourself. Sorry for every time you turned away someone in need when you had the means or ability to help. Repentance means facing what you’ve done wrong and choosing a different path. God’s kingdom is very near. If you believe that good news, and if you repent and are baptized, you can be part of God’s new kingdom if you do not sin again. But if you repent, you must really really mean it, or it will mean nothing. Are you ready to do that, now that you know what repentance means?”
“Yes, I repent for every time I sinned,” the young man says."
"Come then. Let’s go into the water. What's your name?"
"Andrew."
"My name is Jesus."
The young man stands up, removes his sandals and his cloak, and wades into the river. Jesus takes off his own sandals, cloak, and shoulder bag and follows. The water is colder than he remembers. Time is moving quickly.
Jesus puts his hand on Andrew’s shoulder and gently pushes him under the water. Then he helps the young man come up again. And as the young man's face come up out of the water, Jesus looks up at the blue sky somewhat apprehensively, recalling how the dome had ripped apart when his own face had come up out of this same water. But the dome does not rip apart and the sky remains a cloudless blue.
When the baptism is done, the young man shakes the water out of his long locks. “Thank you, Jesus," he says. "I'd given up on being baptized. Don't know why John was the only one doing it, do you?”
“Well, he's not the only one," Jesus says, smiling at the young man.
"O, yeah!" the young man says, sheepishly laughing at himself as he ties his sandals back on and puts on his cloak just as Jesus is doing. "But I'm thinking about my mother, and my sister, and my brother in Abila. They can't go on long walks to be baptized. So when the end comes, will they not be allowed to enter the new kingdom? Because they weren't baptized?
Jesus is saddened by the worry in the young man's question.
"Are they good people?" Jesus asks the young man. "Do they follow God's commandments? Are they nice to people around them? Or are they given to sin and meanness?"
"They are indeed nice people. As good as any, and mean to no one," the young man says.
"Then do not fear for your mother and sister and brother. All people who try to follow the ways of God and who repent if they ever stray will be allowed to enter the new kingdom of God when it comes. It's good to be baptized if people have the means to because it let's others now their devotion to God. But many people don't have the means to be baptized because they are too poor to take time off from work or because they are too sick or too broken to travel. For them, God doesn't require baptism. He just requires that they believe in him and are without sin when the end comes. Let your sick mother know that, and also your sister and brother when they are old enough to understand. God will not deny anyone entry into the new kingdom who has not denied him. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, I understand. And it'll make mother happy because she wanted so bad to go with father to be baptized. But she just was too sick. Well, I better head for home now. If I walk at a steady pace, I can be home just after night fall. Thank you again, Jesus. I'm so glad you came by and could baptize me."
"I'm too, Andrew," Jesus says as watches the young man start to walk away. "But see to it that you don’t tell anyone, other than your family, that I baptized you. I don't want what happened to John happening to me.”
"Yeah,” the young man calls back. "You don't want that. Who does?" He stops to scoops up a handful of pebbles and calls back to Jesus, "If you're ever in Abila, maybe we'll see each other again."
“If you keep God's commandments and treat neighbors and strangers with kindness, we’ll surely see each other again ─ very soon.”
"You planning to come to Abila soon?"
Jesus smiles at the young man's misunderstanding. "You never know."
"Yeah, you never know," the young man calls back to Jesus as he throws a pebble into the river.
Jesus watches the young man till he's out of eye sight, praying that the young man will make it home safely. Abila is a good days' walk and, for a young man traveling alone, relatively safe during the daytime, unless something bad happens.
Now that he's alone, he sits down on the rock where he had sat right after he was baptized and where he'd found the young man sitting. He's still in shock at learning of John's arrest. How could it have happened so quickly? Preaching here in the wilderness, his words should never have reached the authorities that fast. Was he betrayed? Did someone alert the authorities And what does this mean for his own mission? Will he be arrested this soon too? That would make no sense. Why would God call him only for him to be arrested within days or months? But no matter. He can't let himself by frightened. He must carry on with what God has asked him to. And he can only pray that the spirit of God will protect him. But one thins is for sure with John's arrest. That difficult converstation that he dreaded with John will now no longer happen.
He look about Bethany Beyond the Jordan one more time, and then stand up. It's time to go get his mission started. And with that thought in mind, he leaves Bethany Beyond the Jordan and sets out on the long walk back to Galilee, as resolutely as he'd left Galilee to go to Bethany Beyond the Jordan some weeks ago.
As he leaves Bethany Beyond the Jordan for the three-day trek to Galilee, he can’t shake the thought of John being chained up in prison somewhere, arrested for loving the God of Israel too much. It strikes him that he never exchanged a single word with the holy man, not even a word of thanks after his baptism. But he did get a chance to look John deeply in his eyes. He'd seen the fire in his soul, and he'd felt an instant kinship with him. And he prays that God will provide John comfort in his distress.
He wonders if any of John’s disciples were arrested with him or if they were scared off. The young man didn’t say anything about them, although he did ask him if he was one of John’s men. If they were scared off, are they hiding in the wilderness somewhere, planning to continue John’s work? If not, it’s okay. John’s work won’t die. He’ll make sure of that. That is, if he can avoid John’s fate.
John’s arrest shows how quickly God’s message can be silenced if events intervene. God has asked him to share a message. And he's the only one alive who knows this. So what if he too gets arrested, and what if it's before he has a chance to share what he knows? What he knows would be arrested with him and would die in prison.
He can't let that happen. And yet, can he prevent it from happening? All he can do is trust in God and pray that the spirit of God will watch over him.
And what he needs to do as quickly as he can is to find some companions he can confide in. He needs what Moses had ─ his own Joshua ─ someone to whom he could teach the full extent of God’s message and who could then continue to spread the message if, like John, he is arrested. That’s why he needs to get to Bethsaida as quickly as he can and befriend a few strong fishermen there. And if they question why they should follow him, he’ll try use a clever line, something like, “Follow me, and I will make you fisher of men.”
He allows himself to chuckle at his silly joke. But he knows he has to share what he knows as soon as possible. But then again, he should not share too much. He won’t tell them all the details--that God spoke to him--that God chose him as the messiah. He’ll keep those details secret. He'll just be mysterious and say that he was sent, and imply that it is God who is sending him. They're more likely to accept that than if were to claim he was the messiah. That would probably make them think he's crazy and then they might not follow him. And he desperately needs a few strong men to help him get his mission started.
He follows the the river north and just before he gets to a ford, he comes up behind a small flock of sheep being led to the west side of river by a pair of shepherd boys. As he is watching in delight, he suddenly sees to his horror that a lamb has fallen behind the flock and is struggling against the strong current.
He darts into the river, splashing in the water, quickly enfolding the lamb in his arms. One of the shepherd boys hurries toward him. Jesus lets the agitated boy take the distressed lamb from his arms.
”Thanks for you help,” the shepherd boy says to Jesus in an angry voice.
”How could I not help?” Jesus responds.
But the shepherd boy doesn’t even seem to be paying him any mind.
Jesus watches as the shepherd boy carries the spartling run-away to the west bank of the river. “Damn you!” he hears the shepherd boy say to the lamb. “Do you wanna get yourself drowned?”
Then Jesus sees the shepherd boy throw the lamb out of his arms in the midst of the flock that is busy shaking the water out of their drenched fleece.
Jesus follows the flock to the west side of the river, shaking his head. The scared lamb might’ve broken his leg being thrown down like that. He hopes the shepherd boy will soon learn not to be so impetuous. It’s not a trait that will be valued in the kingdom of heaven.
He watches the shepherd boys continue to drive their flock west toward Jericho. He sees the little lamb trotting along just fine. And he sees the shepherd boy who had admonished the lamb walk up to it and stroke its head. A young shepherd in training, Jesus thinks to himself and smiles. Then, with his cloak and tunic still dripping with water, he heads north toward Galilee.
The Jordan Valley road now stretches out in front of him, long and pale in the early afternoon sun. After a while, the valley narrows as low hills press against the river and the road now bends and twists and goes up and down. Jesus feels the strain in his legs. He’s walked so much lately and eaten and slept so poorly. But what can he do? He has no horse, no donkey. So walking is the only way to get to Bethsaida. Oh, how he wishes he were there already.
Now the river and the road bend sharply to the right, and he feels his heart sink as he hears metal clanging against metal and the rhythmic stomping of sandals. He knows instantly what it is – an Herodian patrol – and as he rounds the bend, his fears are confirmed. Six Herodian soldiers and their leader are marching straight for him.
Trying not to look panicked, he quickly does what he’s been taught to do since he was a child. He steps off the road subserviently and then prays that the patrol will keep marching. But the patrol doesn’t keep marching. It stops. And he feels his heart pounding inside his rib cage.
The leader of the patrol steps toward him, pulls on the strap of his shoulder bag, and yells, “Empty it!”
Jesus tries to keep his breathing steady. He doesn’t want to show how discomfited he is.
He opens his bag, dumps out the contents, and watches it fall to the ground: a spare cord, the cloth with the bread and the fish rolled up in it, a flint and striker, a tiny vial of oil, some coins, a carved piece of wood, and small knife.
His eyes cast to the ground, he sees one of the soldiers reach for the small knife and inspect it. He waits in fear of what the soldier will say or do. But the soldier says or does nothing. Instead he throws the knife down and picks up the carved piece of wood.
“Mary,” he says sarcastically, reading the inscription. “Who the hell is Mary? Your wife?”
“My mother,” Jesus says, fighting to keep his voice steady.
”Where you coming from, traveling all by yourself without any baggage?” the leader asks in a gruff voice.
”From Jericho,” Jesus says, realizing that a lie is safer than the truth.
“And where you going?”
“Sepphoris.”
Another lie.
Another soldier squints at him.
“Why Sepphoris?”
“Work for builders has dried up in Jericho. So I’m going to Sepphoris to try my luck.”
Another soldier steps toward him.
“Show your hands.”
Jesus lifts his rough, calloused builder’s hands.
”A laborer alright,” the soldier mutters.
“Jericho to Sepphoris. That’s a long walk,” the leader says.
Jesus nods. “Done it before.”
Which isn’t a lie. He has worked in Sepphoris many times before. But he’s never walked to Sepphoris from here. But they’ll never know that.
The leader tilts Jesus’ head and looks straight into his eyes. “We’re watching this stretch of road for sympathizers of that preacher from Bethany Beyond the Jordan who’s been spouting nonsense about a new king or something. Don’t suppose you’ve run into any of ‘em, have you?”
He anticipated that this question was coming. And he lies for the third time.
”No,” he says, shaking his head.
”Well, if you see any, tell ‘em from me. They can run from here to Perea, but we’ll catch ‘em all. We’ll catch ‘em all and slap ‘em into prison just like we did that preacher leader of theirs.”
Jesus nods.”
The leader studies him for a moment longer, then says, “He’s just a nobody. Let him go.”
“Move along then,” another soldier says.
The leader calls his patrol to attention, and they continue to march south — to Jericho? To Bethany Beyond the Jordan? To the Dead Sea?
Jesus waits until the patrol is many paces away before he dares to move. This unexpected encounter has left him numb. Is this what his role as the messiah is going to be like? One bit of drama after another?
He gathers his things strewn all over the ground and puts them back into his should bag, his hands shaking. He looks down the road to where the Herodian patrol is kicking up dust as they march down the trail. “Don’t hate them,” he thinks to himself. “Hating them won’t solve the problem. They’re not the source of the evil. They’ve just been taught to participate in it.”
He steps back onto the road to continue the long journey to Bethsaida. He walks until the sun drops low enough that the shadows stretch long across the Jordan plain. Then he stops at a rise above a dry wadi. He lowers his shoulder bag, sits down and has a long drink from this waterskin. Then he waits for the day to become night, stands and faces Jerusalem, and says his evening prayer. Then he sits down again, takes the bread and fish he’d saved from this morning out of his shoulder bag, wipes the sand off of it, thanks God for it, and eats.
He still feels tense. The patrol’s voices still echo in his mind. "Who's Mary?" "Show your hands?" "They can run from here to Perea, but we’ll catch ‘em all." “He’s just a nobody.”
Yes, today he was just a nobody, and it kept him safe. But in two more days, he will be in Bethsaida, and he will have to begin to act as the messiah. Will he then still be a nobody? Or will he then be the somebody this afternoon's patrol would've loved to have gotten their hands on?
To be continued. If you have comments so far, please email Rio Jansen at rio_jansen@hotmail.com.