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CHAPTER I Which Is Harder?
When Jesus returned to Capharnaum, reports of the leper's healing preceded him.
Around the table in Peter's home that night, he seemed unusually taciturn; the features of his face vacillating, often frowning, often impassive, almost as if he were not in the room with everyone else. The dog lay curled at his feet with a sleepy eye lazily blinking open and shut. No one noticed the curious fact that Jesus was somewhere else in his mind, but me. I noticed because it struck me, rather, as strange.
He often seemed pensive, but when with a group of people, Jesus, more often than not, gave them his undistracted attention. Not at this moment. Wherever he was, he seemed disturbed, ill at ease, perhaps upset. As is the nature of man after episodes of apparent failure, Jesus' thoughts gravitated toward discouragement,
Resistance builds. How long will it take before they have had enough? In Nazareth, I was almost thrown over a cliff. In Chorazin, my life forfeit to a fiction (Hercules). What is next? And for what? Healing? Preaching? Speaking to them of my Father? No one seems interested. No one seems to care. No one sees me for who I really am.
Jesus shook his head wearily, as if shaking off consternation. The dog lifted her head and placed a paw on the Master's foot. She looked up at Jesus and was rewarded with a scratch, and Jesus rewarded in turn with an affectionate lick on his hand. The dog seemed to sense his mood and sought to comfort him. Her attempts to communicate her affection caused him to feel gratitude to his Father. Through this loving animal, he was telling his Son that he loved him. Love comes from God, whether through one's spouse, or a friend, or the beauty of nature, sometimes even through pain, but for Jesus at this time, through the adoring affection of this animal.
He thought for a moment of the young leper. Hardly more than a boy. He remembered when he was in his early twenties. The woodshop. His brothers and sisters. His mother and father. The smell of freshly shaved wood. He remembered the accident.
Milcah, a lovely child of only nine summers, had scalded her hand when a boiling pot had fallen. Ugly blisters formed quickly, her hand quickly reddened, skin shriveled and separated. She had screamed in pain. Jesus ran to her assistance from the shop and found her holding her wrist, pale and ready to faint. Mary darted about looking for something, anything to help her daughter. Jesus took Milcah on his lap and held her arm. Then he took the injured hand in both of his and held it tenderly. "Jesus, no!" from his frightened mother. But for Milcah, it was as if her hand were placed in a vessel of ice-cold water. The pain left instantly, her blisters cooled, the shock to her system evaporated. In seconds, Milcah sobered from her tears. When she looked at her hand, it was as though it were never scalded. It was the first healing. Accidental. Unexpected. He had not thought of healing when it took place. Just a sense of urgency to comfort his sister. It just happened. Another event further defining his difference from other men. It was not a public miracle like the wine at the wedding, just a private family crisis. No one knew except, of course, those who loved him.
Abishag suddenly barked, jumped to her feet and trotting to the door. Noises outside. People talking, shouting. Andrew rose and looked out the window. "People are coming. A lot of them," he said anxiously. "It looks like they are led by Pharisees!" Before he could finish, there was a sharp rap at the door. Abishag incessant. More loud talking. Peter, excited himself, cried, "Someone hush that animal!" Jesus, unaffected by the clamor, rose to meet the intruders, the dog whined at his side. Andrew opened the door and there stood Rabbi Asher, splendid in his ceremonial robes, which, unlike the disciples of Hillel, he wore habitually. Asher followed the teachings of Rabbi Shammai, Hillel's great rival and whose school was less popular and associated with extreme zealots. Shammai was intense, meticulous and foreboding while Hillel never seemed to take himself too seriously. Rumor had it that a gentile wished to be converted. Shammai consented but only on the condition that the poor man be taught the whole Torah while standing on one foot. Hillel is reported to have raised one foot and said, "What is hateful to you, do not to your neighbor. That is the central truth of Torah! All the rest is useless commentary." This disciple of Shammai sternly demanded to see Jesus. "What for?" inquired Andrew warily. Asher glared at him. "Let him in, Andrew," from Jesus within the house. "Let us welcome our esteemed visitor from the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem. He has come a long way. Bring water; wash his feet and those of his companions. They are weary from travel." Asher, surprised at his welcome and hospitable treatment, softened, but not over-much. "Your fame has traveled all the way to Jerusalem, Rabbi Jesus ben . . . Joseph, is it?" The reference to his father was perhaps an unrelenting reminder that Jesus was, after all, the son of a carpenter, not at all on Asher's level of theological or intellectual sophistication. "I and my friends have come all this way to Capharnaum to hear you for ourselves." His friends were the others in his entourage, other Pharisees, scribes and teachers of the law. Jesus looked at them and smiled, "Your companions are welcome, Asher. Please," he said, gesturing, "all of you, take a seat here among us." Asher and his friends, the local officials from the synagogue and other rabbis from the region sullenly found places to sit or recline in this house of Simon Peter. Their presence in Capharnaum had attracted a crowd of the curious, but there were many others. Since the dramatic healing of the leper in Chorazin, Jesus' reputation as a healer had increased immensely. His name was on the lips of all who lived in and about the region of Galilee and for many miles beyond. Some came from as far as Tyre and Sidon, coastal cities of the Great Sea in the region of Phoenicia. And, as Asher had said, Jerusalem was aroused as well. Most were merely curious, many were cynical, but some in the crowd wondered; considering the possibility that God, through this remarkable Prophet, was about to bring upon his chosen people some mystical form of visitation. Rab Asher and his colleagues were to stay well into the night. The people waited outside Peter's home and their numbers continued to grow. They slept on the ground and in huddles, hoping to get a glimpse of Jesus or should their good fortune have it, be actually touched and healed by him. This confluence of seekers outside Peter's home, while Asher and his ensemble were inside, increased to several thousand. They pressed as close to the doors and windows as possible, waiting for Jesus to appear. The sense of chaotic urgency outside did not go unnoticed by Asher. "Well, young Jesus ben Joseph," he intoned, "You seem to have caused a tumult amongst the people. We haven't had a thing like this since the Maccabean uproar." "You need not speak to me as if I were fourteen, Asher," said Jesus. "First, you are not that much older than I. Second, I am not a snarling dog, so allay your fears. And third, I have no religious or political interests. I have come to reveal the loving heart of God toward his people. Why should you come all the way from Jerusalem just to learn that?" "Let me understand," said Asher. "You are the son of a carpenter, isn't that correct?" "So you keep reminding me." "How then do you purport to speak for God? Are not all the rabbis, scribes, lawyers and priests in Israel enough? Are not all these learned teachers of the law adequate to the task? How is it that a carpenter's son draws such crowds? Neither Hillel nor Shammai ever achieved such fame in so short a time. How is it that hands so accustomed to labor can cleanse the skin of a leper? Or turn water into," Asher's eyebrow lifted, "what was it, wine?" "And a quality wine at that," said a voice in the room. "Is it so remarkable that God who calls the stars by name can do such things with a carpenter's son?" Jesus replied. "Tell me indeed, Rabbi Asher, why are not our synagogues filled with seekers thirsting for God? Why do we not there find the crowds you see standing outside this home?" "The answer is clear," said Asher. "Their minds are benighted. The people do not appropriately appreciate scholarly teaching. That is why our synagogues are empty. There is no mystery in that." "I rather think," said Jesus, "the sandal fits better on the other foot. Is it not because they do not find what they come to seek? They thirst for righteousness and you give them platitudes. They hunger for the Father's love and you give theological equations; you give them law." "Let me quote Rabbi Shammai," said Asher stiffly, "'Never trust anyone who speaks overmuch of love.' You refer to Moses as if his writings were something less than what we have known and followed for almost fifteen hundred years. You speak of the law of God as if it were not to be obeyed." "You have followed Moses?" Jesus smiled benignly, "Come, Asher, we both know better than that." The rabbi's eyes clouded and averted. Suddenly, he was no longer comfortable. Before his discomfort gave way to a defensive retort, he was rescued by a distraction.
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