I Am Peter: A Parable

By Daniel J. Casieri

Wearied by trial and persecution, an aging Apostle Peter awaits his execution in a Roman dungeon in Jerusalem. Like his Savior before him, he was arrested during the Passover feast days. He was apprehended with fellow Apostle James who was summarily executed by Herod Agrippa I. Peter is spared so that Agrippa may make a public spectacle of this successor to Jesus of Nazareth. Peter suffers alone until he is attended by a surprise guest--a Roman physician and scribe who calls himself Luke.

It is Luke's mission to complete a narrative of the life of Christ. And so he is desperate for a personal interview with Christ's most eminent apostle. Assuming these to be the final moments of his life, he readily complies. The miraculous tale is well known to most, especially those to whom the Gospel has been preached. Peter's personal touch, however, fills in portions of the story that are as yet unwritten. His excursion is full of surprises.

Meanwhile, a handful of praying disciples gathered at the family home of Peter's son by faith, John Mark, are pleading for his release. They and the readers of Acts 12 are not disappointed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638740674

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I Am Peter

A Parable

Daniel J. Casieri

Copyright © 2021 by Daniel J. Casieri

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

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Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Fear Not, Only Believe

My Kingdom for a Dance

It Is Finished

– Book 1 –

The Fisherman

Now about that time Herod the king stretched out his hand to harass some from the church. Then he killed James the brother of John with the sword. And because he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded further to seize Peter also. Now it was during the Days of Unleavened Bread. So when he had arrested him, he put him in prison, and delivered him to four squads of soldiers to keep him, intending to bring him before the people after Passover. Peter was therefore kept in prison, but constant prayer was offered to God for him by the church.

—Acts 12:1–5

In the prison

A bright light flashed before him. The bolt of the cell door slid with a loud clang and the anguished squeal of great iron hinges. Darkness blanketed the cell quarters below. The light at the top of the stairs pierced the darkness for a mere moment. But light of any kind was welcomed, and the prisoner turned his face to it as if it were the very sun. Every man in the cell was awakened by the crash of the bolt and voices at the top of the stairs. A lone figure entered. Hinges squealed again, and the slam of the door put out the light. Sandals clapped on the stone steps. A voice whispered in the darkness, Which of you is Simon the fisherman? Is Simon, disciple of Jesus of Nazareth, here?

Sitting in the damp darkness, wrists chained to the wall, a man found the strength to say, I am Peter. The chained man felt the other move toward him. Squinting eyes made out the clean-shaven face of his visitor.

Yes, of course. Forgive me, Rabbi. I forgot he called you Peter.

He does indeed call me Peter. And what does he call you, kind sir? And what is your business with a bound apostle of Jesus Christ?

I am Flavius Lucius Meridias, physician to the body of Christ. Your fellow apostles call me Luke. I have been sent by my employer from the village of Arimathea to hear from your own lips of the marvelous account of the life of Jesus of Nazareth whom some call Messiah, the Christ.

And who is your employer, good physician?

We shall call him Theophilus.

And shall we also call you Theophilus, my son?

I, too, have come to love God.

You will not find the body of Christ, physician. He has risen again to be with the Father.

I speak of the church, good apostle. The body of Christ is the figure used by Saul of Tarsus to signify that now great body of believers who serve the Christ.

Is he still at large, the Pharisee tentmaker from Tarsus?

He is, sir.

He is a zealous man. He will profit the kingdom much. I met him here in Jerusalem not too long ago. He is a zealous and learned man. I pray for his ministry always. Tell me, Lucius, have you also sought out my kinsmen, John and James?

I have, sir.

And what news can you give me of them?

John still teaches in Samaria with many brethren.

And James? Is he still chained as I am?

After a dreadful pause, the visitor managed the words, Dead, sir. Killed by Herod’s guard the day you were arrested.

I thought as much, he said, though I dared not think it until I knew.

So many of the Jews were pleased to see him bound, he said to Luke, the gentle giant who followed the Christ. It took seven men to restrain him. He was the best of us. I will miss him greatly, but he is present with the Lord. I will be with him soon, I suspect.

Sadly, sir, I suspect you are right. My hope is that before any more of the twelve see such a fate as his, I may commit to writing the events of your walk with Jesus.

Even now, my spirit is moved by the prayers of the saints at the house of Mary. Her son, my son in the faith, John Mark, has undertaken to write the account of those days. Perhaps you should seek him out, Theophilus. My time to go to be with God is very near. And soon I will have little need for a physician.

I have spoken with Mark from the house of Mary. Your friends are gathered there to pray for you. If you could find the strength to indulge me, my master and I would be ever grateful to hear the account from your own memory. You are seen as the successor of the Christ by many. Please permit me, and who knows what miracle our God will do for us even now.

Get your ink ready, physician, the apostle said as he gathered himself to do what he did best—evangelize. You will hear a tale unlike any you have ever heard.

The cell door crashed open again. The dim light picked out the faces of Peter and his visitor and the gleam of eyes all about the cell. Two guards were let in to keep a special watch over them. They brought lamps with them. Some unchained prisoners drew themselves closer to Peter. Those who were chained looked on from their dark places. Peter spoke, and even the guards who feigned indifference leaned in toward their prisoner so as not to miss a word.

Chapter 1

Fishers of Men

The Sea of Tiberius glistened that day in the late afternoon sun. We hauled in the final catch of the day, a massive catch. The nets were so full of sweet fat fish they nearly burst. Tilapia, our cash crop, are good any way they are prepared, even raw off the waves, if you must. Andrew and the others were laughing and drinking a bit. They thought about how good they will taste cooked on an open fire and followed down by the sweet native wine of Israel. The Roman scourge was still upon us, but in the daily affairs of our lives we lived as free men, prosperous men, men of God and country.

That was the day he came for us. We fished all day to great profit. We earned our night’s repose of prayers and food and wine and sleep. Such things are our simple reward. We looked forward to them. But that day, he stood at the shore, gazing at me as though he expected me to leave all this, this catch, this working man’s fellowship, this beloved lifestyle with the sea and the sun and the wealth that it gave up to us by the grace of God.

Andrew had already made his acquaintance. He sent him to me to draw me to his service. But I was not so easily moved as my younger brother. I was a son of Israel and a devout man of God. But I was no one’s moral leader, no student of theology. I was not a man of learning but of fists and spit and calloused palms. I was a family man. My life was my vocation. My vessels and the excitement of finding out what treasures the sea would give up from day to day were all I lived for. I loved the life God gave me. I love my brother, Andrew, and he loves me. But he was a dreamer, and I was a man of habit and familiar things.

Yet he stood there. As I worked and hauled in the nets and secured the boats, I looked to the shore, and there he was, staring and waiting. Finally, he spoke to me. He spoke loud enough for all to hear. Strangely, no one heard but Andrew and me.

Follow me! he said. I will make you fishers of men!

It is the Teacher! Andrew said excitedly.

My every instinct was to snarl and snipe and to say, What profit does a catch of men bring in Israel today? Where does a traveling rabbi hope to bring a man like me? Find some dainty brother who will sit at your feet and strive after your every word of wisdom, and let me alone with my trade and my friends and my hearty life. But I couldn’t say it. His words compelled like nothing I had ever known. His gentle call was a call to arms. It enveloped my senses. His voice became my conscience, and my mouth was stopped, my will paralyzed by the words which he seemed to offer as an invitation, but which my soul recognized as a sovereign command.

We left our nets while the brethren looked on and called out, Simon, where are you going? We’ve much left to do before we get to the wine.

But we kept walking, Andrew and me. And we never looked back.

We walked along the sea toward Capernaum. Andrew was silent, withholding an excitement beyond words. The Teacher kept silent also. His face was in shadow as the late sun hung low in the sky behind us and glistened on the subtle waves all the way to the eastern horizon. I remember thinking that if the sun does not go down soon, we would come straight to the port of my uncle Zebedee with his boats still out. How will I explain all this to him, I wondered, that I have left my trade, walked away from my friends, and answered the call of the Rabbi? What will they think of us? And what of the approaching Sabbath? It is very near dusk. Where will we lodge? How will we worship?

It seemed the longest twilight I could remember, but the sun had not yet descended when we came to our beloved Capernaum. It was as if the sun waited for us to get there. We could already hear Uncle Zebedee whistling loudly and happily from his boat. There was no way around meeting up with them. James and John would still be hauling and mending. Old Zebedee would be counting and humming, whistling and singing. What would we say to them? They would certainly taunt us as we walked by with the Teacher as though we had nothing better to do, as though we thought ourselves students of the Prophet.

The whistling and the singing stopped as we approached. The laughter and the speech became a dead calm. There were three boats still out, yet visible from the shore. I looked at the Teacher. His gaze was fixed upon them. Their hulls rode high on the water. Their nets hung empty off the sides. They were not so fortunate as we today.

We have toiled all day and caught nothing, Zebedee complained. John and James noticed our approach.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the Teacher shouted out to them, Cast your net off the other side of the boat!

Andrew and I looked at him, surprised to hear him offer fishing advice to seasoned haulers. He no sooner spoke than old Zebedee complied. He threw his net in again. The others did the same.

The moment they let out the nets, a mighty swirl of commotion surrounded the boats. I knew that swirl. It was a rare occurrence. Schools of agitated fish in a flurry of excitement, surprised by the net, thrashed about, frantic and furious. Each crew struggled greatly to pull the nets in without bursting them. When they finally landed the catch, Zebedee’s boat was so low on the surf it was taking on water fast.

Andrew and I ran out to them. Each man leapt overboard and held his line. We five dragged the boat ashore full of fish and water, and it came to a crunching halt on the stony Galilean shore.

We fell on our backs on the beach, laughing and exhausted from the ordeal.

Follow me! we heard the Teacher speak from behind us. James and John looked at us and then at him. There were no taunts. There was not even a greeting, only the nearly inaudible din of the hired men talking together not noticing what was taking place. We sat in silence on the sand until the Teacher spoke again.

Follow me, he said to them. I felt that same calm authority, that irresistible lure. James and John ran to be with him.

It was nothing like I had imagined. John I expected to come running. His youth, his exuberance, his sense of adventure, much like Andrew’s, was predictable. But James? To see my big cousin run to the side of the Teacher with his father staring in amazement, withholding his customary protests for the first time in his life. The Teacher waved to him with a smile on his face. Zebedee waved and smiled back. As we turned and walked toward the town, we heard old Zebedee laughing and shouting and praising God. His renowned voice carried in the distance like no other natural sound could carry.

I think I hear the thunder! the Teacher said. We laughed with unspeakable delight. Even the Teacher laughed. It was a great laugh. He threw his head back and raised his palms to heaven.

Just when we thought we were too far away to hear him, the booming voice of Zebedee sounded in the distance, God be with you, my sons! God be with you, my kinsmen! He kept it up until his great voice faded in the distance.

Welcome, Sons of Thunder! the Teacher said. James and John embraced as if they waited all their lives for this moment. The Teacher reached out his arm and drew John to himself with a strong one-armed embrace. He was an instant favorite, the youngest. Andrew told the cousins of our calling. He didn’t know that I could hear him tell how amazed he was at how easily the Teacher compelled me to follow him. They laughed and joked at my expense until they saw me looking on and listening. They waited to see my reaction, and then we laughed until the sun disappeared on the horizon. Sabbath was upon us.

At dusk, we came suddenly upon a camp with bedrolls laid about, places dug out in the sand for reclining, bread and wine and a fire already burning. It was as if someone had gone before us to prepare it all just for us. The Teacher told us to sit, and he led us in worship. He spoke to us in a strangely personal way as one having authority.

Whenever we heard the rabbis speak, when we heard the Baptist preach and teach by the river, there was always the customary introduction to the Scriptures. It is written, they would say. Thus sayeth the Lord. The Teacher simply spoke to us. Much of what he said was familiar. Yet, there was a strange new power in the words, a strange new authority in the teaching, a new intimacy in his prayers, and an absorbing familiarity with the singing of sacred psalms. We worshiped as never before. We ate and drank and were satisfied as never before. We gave our attention to the teaching as never before. And that night, we slept as never before.

Chapter 2

Capernaum, Capernaum

In the morning, we went into the synagogue at Capernaum. Our ruler in those days was a pious man, Jairus. I had known him for most of my life. I approached him and the other notable elders of our synagogue to let it be known that the renowned teacher from Nazareth had come to our village. I told him that we had heard him speak. His knowledge of the Word was great, his insights profound. Jairus knew of him and how he had preached in Cana and Nazareth. He accepted our assessment and put him in the order of worship that morning.

The Teacher taught again with that same authority we heard around the campfire. Everyone marveled at his insight. I loved to watch him as he spoke, to see his expression as he taught, the way he moved, the way he inflected, and even the way he paused as if to wait for the hearers to catch up with him.

Capernaum, Capernaum, he said, you who are exalted to heaven by the works that will be done in you. He paused and looked into the faces of his hearers. He met their eyes and let them look into his. And then shaking his head, he lamented, saying, Yet will I find any faith here when I come?

That Sabbath day, he looked into the eyes of one man until an astonishing thing began to happen. The man returned the look for as long as he could until he could endure the Teacher’s eyes no longer. He tried to look away, but each time he raised his eyes again hoping that the Teacher would resume his lesson, he found him still staring, still waiting for the man to react.

He looked so long at him the rest of us became uncomfortable. We began questioning among ourselves why he would submit this man to such scrutiny. We remained silent again, gladly letting such a piercing stare go into the soul of someone else, knowing that we would not endure it any better.

The father of the man went to the Teacher’s side. He clutched at his garment, put his face into it. He cried softly, then loudly. He whispered to Jesus, It is a demon, Master! Isn’t it? We have long suspected it, but the local priests had no power over it, so they said it was not a demon but a sickness. It is a madness that lives within my son. He used to be a good man, but now he is overcome with the madness. It is as if he has become the madness, Lord, and we do not know him anymore.

The demon-possessed man sat silently. His head bowed before the Teacher, unable to raise his eyes again to look into the face of Jesus. A white froth ran from the corners of his mouth. He crouched in his place like a cowering child ready for chastisement. His head cocked slowly up sideway. His eyes opened wide, revealing only empty whiteness.

That’s him, the father said, still clutching at the Teacher’s robe, but he has never been so docile as this. Usually, he becomes enraged and violent when he is disturbed, Master. Is it a spirit, Master? Can my son be whole again? Can he be healed?

Then we heard a voice from hell. The man’s mouth opened, but the voice came from somewhere else, a deep malevolent sound unlike any natural human voice.

Let us alone! the voice pleaded. It was as if he intended it as a command, but the force of his strength forsook him. What have we to do with you, Jesus of Nazareth? Did you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God!

The Master waited to reply. He said not a word until the man again lowered his head, cowering in the presence of Jesus.

Be quiet and come out of him! the Teacher said softly.

The man’s face contorted, striving to speak again. He choked on his own saliva as he tried to force speech from himself, but he could not find the strength. The man fell back slowly and calmly.

The Teacher caught him in his arms and cupped the back of the man’s head in his hand. He pulled him to his chest as he convulsed violently, and one last loud shriek came from his mouth, muted in the Teacher’s robe.

When Jesus released the man, he was calm and at peace. He immediately recognized the Teacher as Jesus of Nazareth whose fame was already spreading. He recognized his father who held him by the neck and looked into his eyes and laughed with joy as if seeing his adult son again for the first time after many years.

Jesus stood slowly and we all fell to our knees, strangely weakened by the spiritual power that was palpable throughout the synagogue.

James and John were sobbing. Tears ran down Andrew’s cheeks. I had tears as well. Even Jesus wept, but only for a moment. Then he smiled and laughed and lifted his face upward to God and raised his hands to heaven. The men around us regained their strength and composure and muttered among themselves about what had just transpired.

I knew everyone in this local synagogue. I knew how fast such stories would spread throughout Galilee. We would be hearing several versions of this event wherever the Teacher would take us. What is this doctrine? From where does this Man receive the authority to command even the evil spirits that were sent to plague us? Jesus felt no compulsion to answer them. We prayed with the worshipers and left for my home.

It was a short distance to our family home. the house left to Andrew and me when our parents died. He lived there with my family and me. My wife, Hadassah, and her mother would be put out that I had been away so long without a word. Yet, I knew that she would already have heard the story of how Andrew and I were called by the Teacher to travel with Him and be taught by Him. I did not know how she would respond to the news, and with her mother there with her, I supposed I might well be walking into a united front against me for my decision to walk with Jesus.

When we arrived, I found a different situation than the one I had imagined. My mother-in-law was ill with a fever. She was lying in her bed, and Hadassah was sitting by her. She looked distressed. My first thoughts were how I deserved her rebuke for leaving my nets so quickly without warning or preparation. I knelt beside the bed of my wife’s mother. Though Hadassah knelt with me, I could not look at her. I placed my palm on the forehead of my dear mother-in-law. Hadassah wept beside me.

I said, I am sorry that I was not here. It was wrong of me. I will tell the Teacher that He must find someone else.

There was a long silence except for the muffled sobs of my wife who could not speak. She clearly believed that her mother at long last was leaving us. I was leaving. Andrew was leaving. It was all too much for her. Just as I was about to speak to the Teacher to let him know of my circumstances and that I had answered his call rashly and without proper consideration, my wife spoke.

Simon, she said, I have heard of the great things expected from this man, this Jesus of Nazareth. I am very sad. But I will recover in time. And I will not let my sadness get in the way of this work that you have been called to do. I have always felt that you would accomplish some great thing. Yet, even I did not suppose that it would be as great a thing as this, that you would serve the great God of our fathers.

I tried to talk, but she put her gentle hand over my mouth and spoke again, My mother is old and she is dying. I am grateful for her life and all that she has been to us. But I can see that the problems of one woman in Israel are not as important as the things that God has prepared for this world to see.

While she was speaking, a shadow fell over us. We looked to the doorway, and there was the Lord, looking in on us.

Dear lady, he said, you are a woman of great faith. You are also so very, very wrong. Assuredly, I say to you that your concerns are God’s concerns, and there are no more important concerns for our God than to minister to the needs of His people, Israel. I have called Simon to walk with me. And he will do so. It is God’s will. However, it is not God’s will that this dear lady should leave you so soon.

He nearly filled the small doorway of the bed chamber. As he walked over to the bedside, he put his hand upon my shoulder, and I moved out of the way to let him kneel by the bed. When he moved toward us, a soft light came in through the open doorway. He put one hand on the suffering lady’s head, and with the other, he took her little hand in his. She immediately came out of her sleep, and his was the first face that she saw when her eyes opened.

Jesus of Nazareth, she whispered. And then more loudly, she said, I thought it was a dream. Is it really you? Did Simon bring you here to heal me?

He did indeed, dear lady! He did indeed. And so you are healed.

Let me rise and wash myself, she said, so that I can serve food for you and your companions.

We are very hungry, the Teacher said with a great smile. We would be very grateful for your hospitality.

I stood behind the teacher and held my wife and felt the thrill of the miracle go through her body. We looked at each other and embraced. We prayed and gave thanks to God for His gift. We thanked Him that when things look grave, the light of heaven may yet shine through the darkness and remind us to have hope in Him and not to despair. I told myself that I would not forget this lesson. Yet, I can tell you, I did indeed forget it many times.

From then on, I took particular note of how rapidly things changed. I have noticed all my life that from one moment to the next, circumstances can go from one extreme to the other. But never in my life did things change so quickly as they did during those years that we walked with the Teacher. In a moment, we went from despair to joy. We saw the pains of this life come upon our loved ones to the joy of having our troubles wiped away for the asking.

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the Lord would say a word or touch a person with his hand, or a person would touch him, and the pain and despair that was in our path departed and opened the way for us to see that with man, so many things are impossible, but with God, all things are possible.

We sat at the table that day with my brother, Andrew, my wife, Hadassah, my wife’s dear mother, and my kinsmen, James and John. We ate and drank and talked and laughed, and never did we experience such joy in the simple pleasures of life as we experienced in those early days walking with Jesus. When he was in our presence, we became invincible. Yet it was a strange invincibility because we knew it was not in the power of our flesh or the nature of our circumstances. It was the power of his presence, his nearness, the cadence of his voice, and the force of his words that made us invincible. It was not as if sadness or sickness or lack of provision or the fear of death could not still come in among us. It was rather that we had somehow come to see these things as the passing shadows of the moment, things that could touch us but no longer things that could bind us.

It was as if all our lives, we were held captive to our thoughts, our fears, and our weaknesses, but now because of his words, we were set free of ourselves, free of the fears that all our lives held us in bondage.

It became clear to us that evening that though the women served us, and our ancestral home housed us, and the labor of our hands provided for us, there was no one present who did not feel the distinct sensation that it was not we who were serving him but he was serving us.

As the day turned into night, and the laughter and the talking slowed, a time of reflection set in upon us. The room became silent as each one pondered the events of the day. We felt new life within us and a new destiny before us. Yet even that somber moment was short-lived. And the silence was broken by another unexpected rush of activity.

We heard the distant sound of many voices. They grew louder and closer by the moment until it was obvious that a crowd was gathering around my house. I went to the door, and in the last vestiges of twilight I saw a throng of people approaching. Suddenly, over all the voices—some moaning, some crying, some wailing, some praising—I heard the unmistakable sound of Zebedee’s booming voice in the midst of the crowd.

Simon, he cried, I could not stop them! I asked them to wait until morning, but they said they had to see the Teacher tonight.

Suddenly, a cacophonous blend of wails and praises cried out to Jesus, saying, Mercy upon us, Lord. Praise you, son of David! Have mercy this night upon the poor and wretched.

The crowd neared, and I could see why such a determined multitude moved so slowly toward us. They were being carried on litters, on donkeys, on the backs of men. Men and women were limping and dragging themselves, some blind, groping as if in darkness and reaching out their hands before them. Some were sick, some lame. Some, I could say with my newfound understanding, were oppressed by spirits. I became afraid that they would all expect to be fed and that the plenty we enjoyed would turn quickly into little. I turned to Jesus and said, Master, what shall I do?

He paused long as if to let me feel the increasing pressure of facing the mob as though they were my responsibility. The joy of the moment was fading. I looked for the Master’s face, hoping he would tell me to direct them to the city to find lodging and that we could not accommodate them here. But he did not tell me. He just looked at me intently until he could hold in his laughter no longer. It angered me that he took pleasure in my ordeal.

Simon, he said, love them. Just love them.

But how, Master? What can I do for them? I have nothing to give them.

The crowd stopped a few feet from my door, and silence came over them. They stared at me standing in the doorway of my little house until one poor crippled man asked, Where is Jesus of Nazareth? We have come to be healed by him.

Jesus stepped into the doorway with me. He looked into my face, and then he walked into the midst of the mob. They thronged him and prostrated themselves before him and groped for him to touch him, to simply touch his clothes. And one by one, they shouted with the joy of healing with the power of pain leaving their bodies and their souls. It was as if the whole city were gathered together at the door. He was lost in the midst of them, and yet I heard him speak to me, Simon, these same things you will do one day. I tell you greater things than these will you do. And to the brethren, he said, Andrew, James, John, you too will show the love of God to the masses and preach my gospel to the poor.

One by one, the people were healed; crutches and bandages littered the roadside. The blind received sight, some for the first time in their lives. Late into the night, the people praised him and prayed to God. Late into the night, he spoke to them and touched them and healed them and gave them sight. Those possessed of demons tried to praise him, but he would not let them, and he bound their voices with the simple command, Silence, sons of Satan! Your words will not be received here.

I don’t remember how I made it to my bed that night. But I awoke at dawn with Hadassah beside me sleeping the sleep that I had known the night before. I went to the door and saw that the crowd had dispersed into the town. Not a person was left there. I saw my brethren sleeping on their cots, but Jesus was nowhere to be found. He was not in the house. I woke the others, and we dressed and went out to find him.

After a short time, we came upon him in an olive grove of a neighbor. He was praying in solitude, thanking God for the healing that had taken place the night before. We thought it best to leave him alone. So we said nothing. As we turned, intending to walk away undetected, he spoke.

It is time to preach, he said. We wondered if he had meant this for us to hear. For this purpose, I have come that the Word of God would be preached, he continued, his back still toward us. Then turning, he said directly to us, God has healed them. God has rewarded them for their faith. But my Father is served best when he is proclaimed. We will go into the towns and into the synagogues, and we will preach the Word of God and let all men know that there is a God in Israel and that he is a keeper of his promises.

Chapter 3

Your Sins Are Forgiven

All throughout Galilee in synagogue after synagogue, the Teacher taught and healed and prayed with the people. Our little band of friends and kinsmen became quite gleeful in the task of traveling on foot from one place to the next, welcomed in some, not so welcome in others. In other places, we were outright opposed, and the Teacher was heckled by onlookers, usually by those who were educated or in authority, scribes or men of the Pharisees.

My cousin, James, was a big man with an instinct for protecting those whom he felt were weaker or deserving of better treatment. Yet, it seemed it was always I who received the Master’s disapproval for speaking out or demanding that a heckler stand down. James had a calmer way about him, but he was not without reputation for his brute strength. I pitied anyone who would impose upon his younger brother, John.

James was most like his father, Zeb, in appearance, big and imposing. John was more like his mother in his willingness to speak out. He was much more the student than James. He was more comfortable having left the trade than the rest of us. He did well with speaking, with letters, and with learning.

I often felt that James and myself were brought along to act as bodyguards to the Teacher. Who would be foolish enough to turn arguments into fisticuffs with James and me standing on either side of him? I thought to myself. Even a centurion would think twice though fully clad in armor and with a soldier’s skill. I longed to test myself against one of Rome’s armored men. I relished the prospect of using the gifts God gave me in this regard. And now it seemed I would use them to further the kingdom of God and to protect His prophet.

I made it my secret and personal mission to assert myself whenever anyone became arrogant or loud, contentious or physical with our little party. I never spoke to James about it. He was not a talker anyway. But I knew I could count on him to be with me when it mattered.

As we left one synagogue, the Teacher was met by a small crowd not wishing the session to end, pleading with the Teacher to stay longer with them. One man came too close. He stepped out of the bramble along the road and kept his face concealed. I approached him through the crowd. He was clothed in rags and used them to cover his face. If he moved in to assault the Teacher, I would present myself as his first obstacle. He called to the Teacher. I looked for James. He was easy to spot, standing taller than most, but he was not aware of the man in rags.

I forced my way through the crowd and put myself between Jesus and the approaching man. I reached out my arm to bar his way. Yet, as I did this, the man dropped the covering over his face so he could speak. I recoiled at the sight. I pulled my hand back to myself in horror at the face ravaged by leprosy. Instinctively, I took Jesus by the arm to pull him away.

Master. This man is a leper!

Jesus spoke not a word but worked his arm out of my grasp and reached out his hand to touch the leper.

About this time, we all began to see what was happening. No one dared speak to warn the Teacher. Neither did I speak nor act to protect him as I thought would be my instinct. I was overcome with the fear. More terrifying than this one man was that a whole company of others emerged with him out of the brush along the road. They were not to come near us. It is the law. They stood afar in silence and watched as this one bold man fell to his knees and pleaded with the Teacher to have mercy on him.

If you are willing, you can make me clean.

I am willing, he said. He placed a gentle hand upon the ravaged face as we all grimaced in disgust. Be cleansed, he said.

The Teacher no sooner spoke than the ravaged face became clean, fully formed and flush. Both hands outstretched to the Lord became as brown as the clay along the road. His eyes were bright. His face expressed delight. He was healed. The man who a moment before was pleading and begging was now speechless and awestruck.

Who are you? Jesus asked him. And who sent you to me?

It was your kinsmen from Bethany, Lord. I am Simon of Bethany. The sisters knew that you were the only one who could help me. When I became ill and left my village, their great love heartened me, and they have given me the gift of sending me to you. I will follow you always, Lord, and go where you would have me go.

You will serve me in time, Simon. For now, see that you say nothing to anyone, Jesus told him. Go your way. Show yourself to the priest. Offer for your cleansing those things which Moses commanded as testimony to them. Then go back to your village to the sisters of Bethany. Tell them that I will come to them in time. Tell them that God has prepared greater things for them to see than the healing of Simon the Leper. And then we will all rejoice together.

Jesus walked on. The man remained there, kneeling and weeping and praising God. He stopped for a moment and looked off the road to where the others were standing. He stood and stared without a word. The others stared back with covered faces. Slowly, they all turned and walked away, leaving their former companion alone on the road.

I am sorry, Master. I did not understand your purpose, I said pleadingly. I only thought to protect you.

I forgive you, Simon, he said to me. I forgive you for your fear, he added.

But Master—

Enough has been said of this matter, he insisted.

I kept silent.

We climbed up a grassy hillside until the Teacher turned. A crowd of people found us along the road and stopped to speak to the leper, now healed, standing on the road and praising God for what the Teacher had done for him. The miracle changed hearts that day. Some offered him their clothes, a robe, a tunic. He was indeed a new man due to the power of the Lord and the love of his disciples.

All at once, they turned and saw us on the hillside. The crowd climbed up after us. When they were still a few yards off, we sat, and the crowd stopped where they were and sat down also. When the people became silent and all we could hear was the blades of grass lightly rattling in the calm breeze that came over us and cooled us, the Teacher spoke. Not loudly, but loud enough for all to hear if they kept very silent and very still.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, he said. And after a lengthy pause, he added, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

He spoke for a long time and he became fiery in his countenance. For I say to you that unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.

Suddenly, every word he spoke seemed as if it were directed to me. It seemed as if everyone among the multitude who came to hear him and my brethren who walked with him knew that I had failed him, that I had acted with cowardice. It was not the man that frightened me. For he was a withered and sad and sick little man. It was my fear of the disease that kept me from acting. I thought myself not fearful of demons until I witnessed one. I thought myself not fearful of a leper until he came close enough to touch me. I recalled how, at my house, with all my kinsmen serving him, that it was really he who was serving us. At this moment, I knew that it was he protecting us, not us protecting him. He was fearless. It was we who were filled with