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CHAPTER VI His Work Is Done
After they had recovered, they came and stood before Jesus with the child at his side, and said, "We are disciples of John."
"Yes?"
"Our master suffers in Herod's prison." An expression of pain on the face of Jesus. "He is deeply saddened," said Markus. "I think he is afraid. I think he fears that he is of no more use to God. He is surprised and hurt that his life should end this way. He feeds the rats his crusts of bread. He wants to know if you are really the Christ or if he must hope for another?" His tone subdued. He knew the answer to this question but didn't know what else to say.
Jesus glanced at Markus and lowered his eyes. He turned, took a few steps and sat. He seemed stunned and sick at the news of his cousin. "You come from Judea?" This as a way of obliquely responding, acknowledging, indicating that he understood, yet felt as though there was nothing he could do.
"We do, Rabbi. We came quickly, hoping you could come and bring comfort to our master. We hoped, perhaps against hope, that you might find a way to obtain his release. We fear he may not survive."
After a moment of thought Jesus responded, "Go back and tell John what is going on here. Tell him what you have seen and heard. Tell him about the blind, the lame, the lepers, the deaf. Tell him the dead are raised, and the message of the Father's love and redemption is given to those in affliction." The child whom he had healed stood by, watching. He stepped over to her and put his arm about her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled in the sunbeams, her mouth and white teeth perfectly echoed a joyous smile. "Tell him of this child. Tell him all these things. He will be comforted. Tell him that I am indeed who I say I am and tell him not to be afraid." Jesus paused long enough for the two men to think that he had finished. They nodded their heads in assent and turned to leave. "And tell him," spoke Jesus, "that I suffer with him. Tell him that my heart and my spirit are one with his. Tell him . . . I love him."
There were some of us who formerly sat at the feet of John. As the two men disappeared into the crowd, Jesus turned again to us and said, "When you heard John preach in the desert, who did you think he was? What did you think you were seeing? A weed swaying in the wind?" His lips pursed into a grim smile. As anyone who had seen him knew, John was no swaying weed. "Did you see a man dressed in fine clothes?" Again, we blanched at the thought. John's apparel was a contradiction to anything fine. "Those who wear expensive clothes and indulge in luxury live in fine homes and palaces. But what did you see when you saw John? A prophet? Yes, that is what you saw! John is a prophet, and more than a prophet. John is the one about whom it is written: 'I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.' I tell you that among those born of women there are none of the prophets, none, that are greater or more powerful than John." My eyes fell away from Jesus and examined the ground at my feet. There I observed a large beetle lumbering along its way. It is hard to say why such an event captured my interest, or why, these many years later, I tell you about it. The beetle approached a rock buried in the foot of an embankment and covered with lichen and yellow-green moss. Somehow, he found a crevasse and crawled beneath the rock, out of the heat of the sun. I wished that I could crawl under a rock somewhere myself, away from the burning beams of my own shame. How many times had I, how many times had we all made John the butt of childish humor? How many times had we laughed and joked among ourselves of his wild clothing and his diet. How many times had we scorned his poverty? How many times had we made condescending remarks about his thunderous preaching and baptizing anything that moved? How many times had I, myself, shamelessly held John in lofty contempt? Yes. The beetle and I would have been visceral comrades under the rock with the rest of the worms and crawling things. "John's work is done. And he doesn't understand why. No man who serves God is ever assuaged of the hunger to continue to do so, or to do so in a larger way than he has ever done. It is a deeply troubling pain. He doesn't yet realize his station in the eternal kingdom nor does he realize that he approaches the hour when the Father will reward him beyond his ability to imagine. "John, also, is suffering under intensely desperate, humiliating conditions. It is not unusual for men, even extraordinary men, in such pain to have times of questioning the goodness of God and seeking release from their pain. Do not judge him. Empathize with him. "The prophets of old have continued until John's time. He is the final one. He is the summation of all the prophets before him. And if you are willing to accept it, he is the Elijah who was to come. "To what shall I compare this society of today? It has all the spiritual sensitivity of children yelling at each other, 'If you won't play by my rules, if you won't do it my way, I will take my agates and go home.'" "John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine, and he was thought odd; much too eccentric to speak for God. Instead, it is said that he is demonic. The Son of Man came both eating and drinking, and you say, 'This man doesn't follow our rules. He too, is demonic. He eats what he wants when he wants. He is a glutton, a drunkard who cultivates friendships with the wrong people; with worldly people. He is much too worldly to speak for God.' When the message of God's prophets do not fit the expected perceptions of what they should say, or how they are expected to act, men pout and sulk like children. They become cruel and inhuman. There is no mystery in this. History continues to repeat itself. Children will always be children. If any of you have the ears to hear this, God help you to hear it." The girl-child put her arms about him and held him, swaying gently back and forth. Bending over, he embraced her as well. Sweat rolled down his cheeks and into his beard. Or were they tears?
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