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Nathanael hated the city five minutes after they arrived.
Whoever designed the place had to have been drunk. It had the usual districts: the butchers’ district, the synagogue and the nearby expensive homes for important people, weavers’ district, the market place, the Red Quarter, and everything else. But the streets were uneven, there were innumerable dead ends, and what little bits of green had been allowed to sprout up were all lopsided and dying.
The architecture was ugly too. There was either no grandeur at all, or explicit vulgarity in building form.
Naturally, Jesus seemed very excited to be there. Naturally.
“It’s good to be back in a city, eh boys?”
“This place is terrible,” Nathanael muttered so only Philip could hear him.
“It’s not so bad,” Philip murmured back. “Besides, you were tired of sleeping outside.”
“It’s so good to be back among people again!” Jesus smiled at everyone they passed.
Judas cursed and slid his sandal across stone, leaving behind a smudge of something nasty.
Nathanael looked at Philip. “I wasn’t that tired of camping.”
Sleeping in stables, even large stables decorated with fresh hay and very well behaved horses, was actually not that different from sleeping outside. Except it smelled worse.
——
Jesus never had a plan. Or, maybe He did have a plan, but He didn’t share it. Usually He would just start talking to someone, then more people would pause and listen to Him, and a crowd would gather.
The same thing happened in the city. Except the market place was oddly spaced out, and it was too small for a community of this size. People were smushed together, feet got stepped on, and the heat made every smell ten times worse.
“Maybe we take a break, hmm?” Jesus smiled at the mass of humans.
When the crowd dispersed, Simon pointed out the obvious. “This city was not designed for people, Rabbi.”
“It was designed for and by drunk polecats,” Nathanael said, as he watched the people awkwardly shuffle away. The streets weren’t wide enough for two men to walk side by side.
“We could move outside the city,” Mary Magdalene said, her voice soft and gentle. She was playing the role of peace keeper; trying to keep the rest of them from overreacting in front of their Lord. Nathanael appreciated it, and also her very smart suggestion.
“There are people I want to meet in this city,” Christ said. “People who need Me. But maybe we can find a better place for those meetings.”
They did find a place. Zee knew a guy who owned a home with a garden. Centrally located. Spacious enough for a large crowd. Nicely landscaped.
“How exactly do you know this man?” Matthew asked. It was a question most of them were wondering, but had the good sense not to ask.
“He’s been generous to…old friends of mine.”
All of Zee’s old friends were Zealots. They were at the home of a donor to the Zealots.
A smart donor. The house was hidden in the labyrinth of the city. If you didn’t know where it was, you wouldn’t find it. They could put a sign by the door, announcing that this was where you could listen to the Son of Man, but that didn’t help people find the place.
Nathanael suspected that was on purpose.
“Hmm.” Jesus rocked back on His heels when the problem became obvious. “Perhaps it’s time to spread the news.”
The house was centrally located, which meant they could station themselves at various points in the city and direct people to Him. Matthew found a map of the city in a bookseller’s shop, and Tamar sweet-talked the man into parting with it for free. They marked out the places where it made sense to put someone, and Simon took charge of telling everybody where to go.
He was bossy, but he was a natural leader and when Christ stepped in, the fisherman stepped back.
“Nathanael?” Jesus’ smile took away a lot of the surprise and apprehension Nathanael felt at hearing his name. “Would you go here,” He pointed to a spot on the map, “and give directions? There’s someone you would like to meet.”
It wasn’t like saying no to the Messiah was an option. And anyways, how hard could it be to stand at a corner and talk to people?
——
The corner was busy and lots of people asked for directions. Nathanael provided them with a smile. When he first joined the group, he spent an entire afternoon and a good chunk of an evening watching Christ heal people. Miracles never got old and he was happy to direct people to such wonders.
Then a woman came up. “Um…”
He smiled. “Are you looking for the Messiah?”
“I dunno.”
Blink. Blink.
“I just want…I don’t know.”
“Ah, well, you can go down the street, turn left at the butcher’s shop, and knock on the door with a sign.”
She stared at him. “Do what now?”
Words: how did they work?
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.” He smiled. “You’ll get to hear the son of God.”
The woman shrugged and wandered away.
Nathanael spent a few more hours giving directions and answering questions.
“I do not know where the public latrines are.”
“There’s a restaurant over there, but I don’t know anything about it or its food.”
“I cannot help you send a letter to your sister in Jerusalem.”
“I cannot help you figure out how much you owe in taxes."
“Why…why would I have the keys to your house?” Nathanael stared at the man.
The man shrugged. “I lost them, and I have no way to get inside.”
Nathanael stared. The man stared back. Eventually, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do, Nathanael lifted his arm and pointed in the direction of the Messiah. “Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door. He can help you.”
After a few more hours on his feet, Nathanael was relieved to see Big James and John. They were going around picking up everyone who spent the day giving directions.
“How was it at the house?” he asked.
“Two fights broke out.” Big James massaged his shoulder. “And one woman arrived and she was a bit weird. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted. But He knew, so…” He shrugged.
“There was also a guy who thought we had the keys to his house,” John said.
“Did Jesus…?”
“He knew exactly where the keys were and the guy went away happy.”
There was really no way to articulate the feelings they had about a random person who, for whatever reason, thought complete strangers had access to places where he kept important and private portions of his life. So they just kept going.
——
The next day Nathanael returned to the same spot to give directions.
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
His feet started to hurt after an hour.
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Excuse me, young man.” A plump woman with a perfectly set veil and a scowl approached.
“Go down the street…”
“I want to know who is in charge of that restaurant.”
“Presumably the owner.”
The woman huffed. “You sent me to the restaurant yesterday.”
Yesterday was a fever dream at this point. Nathanael summoned what little mental energy he had to remember the before-times. “I told you there was a restaurant over there, but I didn’t know anything about it or its food.”
“You sent me to the restaurant and their noodles were soggy!”
“You should talk to the owner about that then.” He couldn’t quite keep the disdain out of his voice.
The woman started yelling. Nathanael responded with a few choice words about her parentage, ugly clothes, and stupid city. It was not his finest moment. The words weren’t even clever. Ugh.
Then the Romans showed up and told them to move along and quit disrupting the peace. He didn’t have any clever words for them either, so he retreated to the restaurant, spent too much money on noodles that were excessively average, and waited until he was calm again.
“Are you alright?” It was Matthew and Philip. Nathanael had not been surprised to learn his oldest friend had unofficially adopted the one-time tax collector. Philip had a soft spot for the vulnerable; it was why he saddled himself with Nathanael. What was surprising was that they were there in the restaurant when they were supposed to be…he wasn’t actually sure. The layout of the city was so bizarre he wasn’t certain where they were supposed to be in relation to himself.
“This city is a piss pot of uneducated hyenas.”
“It’s going that well, huh?” Philip sat down and gestured to Matthew to do the same.
“I hate people.”
“You love people. Without people you wouldn’t have anyone to needle.”
Nathanael wanted to deny it, but it was true and he didn’t lie. “I only needle the people I care about. I don’t care about these people.”
“He does,” Matthew said. There was no need to ask which ‘He’ he meant.
Philip gave Nathanael a meaningful look. “Try to remember that you’re meeting a need here. These people need you, literally, to direct them to the Messiah.”
There was no arguing with that. Nathanael slurped the last of the noodles. “How long are we going to stay here?”
The other two looked at each other, then back at him, and shrugged. There was a lot of shrugging going on.
“Be patient with people. And with yourself,” Philip said.
Patience. Patience. He could do patience. He was smart enough to be patient. Nathanael went back to his corner, resolve to be patient firmly fixated.
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
His feet and legs were killing him.
People started asking questions.
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Again, I cannot help you with your taxes.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“The latrines are that way.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“There’s a restaurant over that way. I thought the noodles were excessively average, but others have found them soggy.”
He was never going to get over Mean Noodle Lady.
His back ached.
A man came up to him. Nathanael might reasonably have expected gratitude for pointing the man to the Son of God who knew where to find house keys, but reason feared to tread in this city.
“Do you have the keys to my house?”
Nathanael stared. The man didn’t seem feeble minded. He didn’t even act like Matthew; he looked Nathanael right in the eye and didn’t seem any more naturally awkward than anyone else.
“Down the street. Left at the butcher’s shop. Knock on the house with the sign on the door.” Nathanael pointed.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
By the time Nathanael stumbled back to the stables where they were staying he was ready to crawl to bed and never leave it. He made his way to his bed and had already pulled his sandals off his aching feet when Philip arrived.
“I’m not sure of the details, but we’ve been invited to dinner. Someone Jesus healed is the host, I think.”
Nathanael smiled and pulled his sandals back on his aching feet, and followed everyone to dinner, where he made little bits of small talk. He didn’t even have the energy to tease Thomas when he blushed after Ramah mentioned how hard he worked that day.
A day had come when he didn’t have the energy to mess with Thomas. A plague on this city.
——
The woman was excessively talkative and showed no signs of shutting up. After a few minutes, Nathanael began looking for an escape.
“…And my second cousin twice removed on my mother’s side was afflicted with demons, but that was after the flood, but before the fire…”
There had to be a way out of this somehow.
“…Meanwhile, I started a cloth business with the money my third cousin twice removed on my mother’s side gave me from selling the frogs, but then my husband came down with the flu, and we lost everything to the tax collectors…”
He prayed for a rescue.
“…But it turns out demons give really good advice about how to cheat on taxes, so my cousin took it all down and we turned it into a book…”
Any rescue at all. From any corner.
“…I’m giving a free copy to my customers. Men don’t go to the hairdresser’s tent, but if you do, I’ll file your nails and give you a copy and…”
Wait. “What’s wrong with my nails?”
The woman gave him a look both skeptical and pitying. “They’re a little ragged. Uneven.”
Nathanael looked at his nails. They looked okay to him.
“Do you want a copy?” She held up the book of demon-inspired tax advice.
With a quick prayer for the salvation of his soul, Nathanael took a copy and then pointed her in the direction of their Lord.
It was a little annoying that demons were so good at tax evasion.
——
He had exhaustion and concern for the whole human race for lunch.
——
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“I still can’t help you with your taxes.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“The latrines are that way.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“The food is okay, but it’s a little overpriced.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“I do not know where your keys are, but go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
Simon and Andrew came by to collect him when the sun went down. The instant Simon opened his mouth Nathanael covered it with his hand. “Shhh. Shhhh. Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Andrew did not seem to mind that his brother was prevented from talking. It was probably a relief.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s people not talking. Or at least not talking to me.”
Simon batted his hand away. “Are you okay?”
“No. There are…” Nathanael gestured at everything. “People.”
Simon and Andrew exchanged looks. “Time to go home, man,” Simon said, gently taking Nathanael’s arm and leading him away.
The stables were noisy. People were moving, people were cooking, people were talking. Nathanael stumbled to his bed, pulled the blanket over his head, and didn’t come out for the rest of the night.
——
When he woke up the next morning, Nathanael said his prayers to God. Then he sat in bed and steeled his nerve for the coming day. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He had this. He could do this.
Thirty seconds after he got to the corner a guy came up and told him he didn’t like Jews.
Nathanael, a Jewish man in a Jewish city in a Jewish nation, stared.
“I just don’t like them.” The man nodded.
“Why…why are you telling me this?” Anti-Semitism wasn’t a new invention, but why somebody would approach a complete stranger and announce their gross prejudices was a mystery.
“I just wanted to tell somebody.”
“Okay. Okay then.” Nathanael lifted a hand and pointed. “Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door. There’s somebody there who can help you with that.”
____
Nathanael had confusion and despair for lunch.
——
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“Still don’t know where your keys are. But go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door. Jesus knows where they are.”
Mother Mary and Ramah came to collect him that evening. “Too many fights. John and Big James are exhausted.”
Unable to resist the urge, Nathanael hugged her. She was so calm. She was so compassionate. She loved Jesus so much that that love spilled out to include His followers. He really needed that.
Without a moment’s hesitation she hugged him back. “That bad, huh?”
“People. They exist.”
“Hmmm.” She rubbed his back, which, after several days, hurt. “You should talk to Jesus.”
“What’s He going to do? Snap His fingers and make everyone intelligent?” She gave him a Look and he realized that probably came out snarkier than he intended. “Sorry.”
“At least think about it.”
He did think about it. He thought about it for a good chunk of the night. But Christ spent the day healing and teaching people, and Nathanael decided not to add his problems to that burden.
——
Morning came too early in the day. Once again, Nathanael found himself staring up at the rafters, mentally preparing for another day of “Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door” interspersed with Mean Noodle Lady and lost house keys.
“You know,” Philip said, “you can ask Christ if someone can take that job for a while. Maybe Little James or Thaddeus—”
“Little James will talk to people for an hour before giving them directions, and Thaddeus will just, I don’t know, cry if he has to talk to strangers.”
“You’re being mean again. You’re not the only person capable of giving directions. Tamar and Ramah are both—”
“It’s a literal street corner,” Nathanael said, and yeah, he did sound kind of mean. “Philip, I love you, but if you put the women on a literal street corner they’re going to get all kinds of hell. Everybody else has a job to do already, and Jesus asked me to stand there. I can handle another few days of this.”
Philip grinned, which was the weirdest response. “I was right about you. You met Him and you went all in.”
Nathanael shrugged, not quite understanding the sudden change of subject.
“It’s what I appreciate about you. You set your mind to something and you go and do it.” Philip clapped him on the shoulder. “Just promise me you’ll talk to Jesus, okay?”
There would be plenty of time to talk to Jesus when they left this God-forsaken city. Nathanael promised.
——
“Nice shoes,” said the first woman he saw that day.
“Oh. Thanks.”
The rest of the conversation was not as innocuous.
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
Mean Noodle Lady came back. She glared at him, then started screaming when he rolled his eyes.
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
“I paid my taxes!” The man gave him a toothy smile.
“That’s great.”
“My wife’s hairdresser gave her this book that helped a lot!”
“Go down the street, take a left at the butcher’s shop, knock on the house with the sign on the door.”
Lost house key guy showed up. Nathanael sighed. “Have you considered putting the keys in the same place every day?”
“There’s too much stuff in my house,” the man blurted out.
“Huh?”
“There are piles of it, and I can’t get rid of any of it.” He looked ready to cry, which Nathanael was not prepared for. “My wife left me. She went back to her parents. I don’t blame her. There’s piles of stuff around the house, but I created a walking path to move around. I tried letting her get rid of some of it, but I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry, man. That’s terrible.”
“Even if I put something down, there’s too much stuff and it just gets lost again. But I can’t get rid of any of it. What if I need it?” Tears threatened to overflow.
Most people had an instinctive desire to help if they could. In this particular instance, there was nothing Nathanael could do. Except… “When you saw Jesus, did you mention this?”
The man shook his head. “I just asked Him where the keys are.”
“You should talk to Him about it. Ask Him to help you.”
The man wiped his eyes. “Down the street, left at the butcher’s shop, the house with the sign, right?”
Nathanael smiled. “You got it, man.”
——
The noodles were getting cold. Nathanael stared at them for a while, before pushing the bowl away and letting his forehead hit the table.
“You know, you could have just come talk to Me.”
Nathanael lifted his head. It was Jesus. “You’re not teaching?”
“It was time for a break. And you did promise Philip you would talk to Me.”
Ah. Right. “I didn’t say when.”
“And Eema told you to talk to Me as well.”
“I didn’t make her any promises.”
“You’re really going to ignore her advice?”
Nathanael stared at the table. “This is a very effective guilt trip.” He meant it to sound light-hearted, but it was the truth.
“Hmm. Well, you can stop feeling guilty and talk to Me.”
Nathanael raised his eyes. “Not to question the Divine Plan or anything, but couldn’t God have made humans a little bit smarter?” He held up a hand with his thumb and finger a breath apart. “Just a little?”
“You mean smart like you.”
“Yes.” Nathanael was honest enough to admit what he really meant. “Or least smart enough to know who’s responsible for their noodles.”
“You did meet some people who had problems, didn’t you?”
“I did.” It was easier to disdain people than to admit they made him feel powerless. “They are stupid.”
“And yet they were smart enough to ask for help when they needed it.” Jesus leaned forward. “I know it is hard. I know you are tired. I know the work was repetitive and you encountered people who were hard to help. But I did not send you out to look down on people. They do not exist for your ego; they exist so you have the opportunity to be patient with them.”
Having your flaws presented so bluntly was never easy. Nathanael blinked a few times, willing the tears away. “I felt powerless.”
The Messiah did not stay angry long. “I know. So did many of the people you met.”
“You told me to go out there and send people to You. You said there was someone I wanted to meet, and I didn’t feel…” Nathanael trailed off.
“Take your time.”
“I didn’t feel I could talk to You. It felt, everything just felt petty. I thought You wouldn’t want to hear it.” He took a deep breath. “That was stupid.”
“I would call it misguided, not stupid. Anytime you need to talk, I am here.” Jesus smiled. “Always. I will never abandon you. I will not leave you nor forsake you.”
The promises of God were a comfort. Nathanael wiped his eyes. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” Jesus looked at the cold bowl of sad, soggy noodles. “I’m not even going to make you eat that. God requires mercy more than sacrifice.”
“If I never see another noodle again that’ll be okay. I’ll just wait for dinner.”
A nod. “Come back when you meet the person you want to meet.”
Well that was vague.
The afternoon was warm, and for the first time in days Nathanael smiled. Most people hurried past him, but some stopped and asked for directions.
One person stopped and looked at him. It prompted one of those moments where both parties recognized each other, but they weren’t sure from where.
The guy snapped his fingers. “You’re the dead man in the story.”
“You’re the bartender.” Nathanael grinned and spread his arms wide. “You can see I’m no longer dead.”
“That’s good, that’s very good. I’m happy for you.”
“Really?”
“You paid your tab without arguing with me about it, and you didn’t ask me to sleep with you. It’s a low bar, but you met it, and I want nothing but good things for you because of that.”
Belatedly, Nathanael realized that bartenders dealt with the general public. “I completely understand. And for the record, I appreciate that you didn’t take my money and sell me to Roman slavers. Thanks, man.”
“Anytime. So I’m moving back home to help my brother care for our father, and I got a new job at the Raging Storm. What brings you to this beautiful and interesting city?”
Nathanael appreciated a good dose of sarcasm. “C’mon, I’ll take you to Him.”
——
Jesus was outside His tent, talking to the man with the missing house keys. For a moment Nathanael hesitated, afraid to interrupt, but then Christ grinned and greeted them. Missing House Keys Man had the look of someone who had just been healed, and that was enough to make everyone around him feel good, including Nathanael.
“I found someone who could empathize with me, Rabbi.” Nathanael’s smile was a little lopsided; his feet and back still hurt and his pride was sufficiently damaged. But the God who did not turn from him at his worst was with him now too, and loved him enough to send someone who understood the mental tax he paid to deal with the public.
“I’m Isaac,” said the bartender. When meeting Jesus, people tended to have one of two possible reactions: they instinctively knew Him for who He was; they were instinctively willing to at least entertain the idea that He was the Messiah; or they were totally turned off by the idea and stayed un-believers. Given the wide-eyed stare and the whispered introduction, Isaac was one of the first kind.
“Isaac, welcome. I am Jesus of Nazareth, and I appreciate what you did for one of Mine. You are a thoughtful man.” He gestured to Lost House Keys Man. “This is Aaron. He sees the value of everything.”
To his credit, Isaac did not make a crack about Nazareth. He greeted Aaron, accepted an invitation to stay for dinner, and spent most of the evening alternating between awestruck and joking.
Watching people meet Jesus was always…Nathanael struggled to think of a word. Lovely. That was kinda corny, but it would work. It was lovely seeing people at their best.
“Filling cups isn’t the dream, but bartending isn’t bad,” Isaac said. “I like talking to people.”
“You can talk to people on the street though,” Mary Magdalene said.
“Yeah. But I like helping people work through their problems. Or ignore their problems. A lot of times people will start talking, and an hour or two later they come up with the solution on their own.”
“A professional friend,” Aaron said in a soft voice. The keys to his house stayed clutched in one hand.
“Professional friend, that’s good! You should stop by the bar where I work. It’s called the Raging Storm…”
God really did plan everything perfectly.
——
Nathanael slept like a log all night. His legs and back still ached when he woke up, but it was a manageable ache. He still stayed under the blanket for a few moments, not hiding, exactly. Just preparing himself.
“Hey.” Philip shook him. “Wake up. We’re leaving in an hour.”
Nathanael prayed, and admitted to God that he was really grateful to leave that city.
As they passed the street corner he thought of as ‘his’ they encountered Mean Noodle Lady. Again, she screamed at him for her lack luster noodles. This time, he literally clamped down on his tongue and let Jesus handle it.
Jesus hugged her and she broke into tears. Her name was Sarah. Her husband ignored her, her children disrespected her, and she lived in constant fear that everyone else would do the same. Fear was exhausting, but anger kept her going, but now there was nothing but anger. She was so tired, and she was so sorry.
Nathanael sighed when they finally passed the city walls.
“Was it that bad?” Philip asked.
“Yes. And no.” Nathanael shrugged. “It got better.”
“It always gets better with Him, huh?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “That city was still designed by drunk hyenas though.”