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It was another long day of walking, followed by a long evening of setting up camp and helping move large numbers of people towards the Messiah so they could be healed. John was used to it by now, but it was still draining.
He liked helping Jesus. It brought a sense of purpose and satisfaction to his life that nothing else could ever deliver. And he liked people. He liked talking to them, liked hearing their stories, liked seeing them come broken and leave filled with joy and praise. People were good.
Most of the time.
“You guys are a bunch of idiot sheep.” The heckler smirked as if he had just said something clever. Most people ignored him, and John tried to do the same. Either the fool would get bored and leave, or circumstances would conspire for him to meet the Messiah. Either way, he wasn’t worth a response.
At least that’s what John told himself. A look at his older brother told him Big James was thinking the same thing: the Sons of Thunder did not want to fight this evening.
“Baaaa! Baaaa!” The ugly smirk grew wider.
The people in line glanced at him, but otherwise ignored him with the studied patience of people who had been mocked before and knew there was no way to fight back. To do so would only encourage him.
“Big James, John!” It was Ramah. She didn’t seem to notice the fool, she was focused on them. “You two are off-duty. Shoo.” She smiled, as if she just expected them to leave her alone with a crowd of strangers. “And tell Thomas not to worry. I’ll be fine. Zee should be right behind me.”
John exchanged another look with his brother. “No.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
Salome was a boom of thunder in her own right. Mary the Mother bore and raised Christ. Tamar was brave enough to approach Him and beg Him to heal her friend. Mary Magdalene stared down a demon and returned to Him after failing. John knew strong women. He respected them. He liked to think he knew what they were capable of and appreciated it.
It would be a cold day in Gehenna before he left Ramah alone with a crowd of strangers and a fool.
Before he could answer, the fool shouted out, “Hey, Girlie! Instead of following a bunch of dumb sheep why don’t you come follow me?”
Ramah had the good sense to step back away from him. Some of the people in line watched, but nobody said anything.
“I can handle it,” Ramah said, quietly, but with steel in her voice. “And Zee will be here shortly. He’s going to help me.”
“No.” James shook his head.
“I can!”
“Baaaaaaa!” The man made a lewd gesture. The gesture and the sheep impression did not go to together, unless the man was implying…
Ew. Oh, ew. John shuddered.
“She’s a woman,” said one of the men in line. He was old and one legged. “This is how you act around women?”
“Hey, I’m just pointing out that she can follow the sheep, or she can lie with a wolf.”
Ramah turned. Her eyes were missing their usual warmth, and were very, very cold. “You’ve made your point. You don’t believe in our Master. You think we’re sheep. You think we’re stupid. Okay. You should leave now.”
Deprived of a reaction the man hesitated before finding his verbal footing. “I don’t wanna.”
Big James stepped between the man and Ramah. “She’s right. Go, before I make you go.”
The heckler, who was not very big or very muscular, took a long look at Big James. Saw his height. Saw his muscles. Probably worked out that he was facing a man who worked for a living, and had spent his entire adult life doing hard, physical labor. The heckler took in all of this, and made a decision.
He made the decision to take a swing at John’s brother.
John saw red. Within the space of a breath, he was on top of the man. His punches landed and he made sure they were harder than what the heckler had given James. Ramah screamed and someone said his name. Someone yelled his name. Several times.
John was lifted off the man and flung to one side. It was not a soft landing and he scrapped his knees and palms on the ground. He jumped up, ready to continue fighting not only the heckler.
Big James held him back. “Enough, enough. Look!” He jerked his head towards the heckler. And Jesus.
Oh. Oh, hell.
John immediately stopped struggling and looked at his older brother. There were no answers there. Sympathy, but no solution.
Jesus was on His knees, with the heckler’s bloody face in His hands. The man was blubbering, which was both pathetic and understandable, given the mess John made of his face.
“It is not the boy’s fault,” said the old man with one leg. “This man was harassing the woman. Being vulgar.”
“I know.” Christ smiled at the old man. “And I know you never leave home without two handkerchiefs.”
“Allergies, Rabbi.”
“May I borrow the clean one, please? And Big James, your water skin. Thank you.” He wet the rag and pressed it to man’s face and head, wiping away the blood. Before long it became evident that the wounds were healed. The man quit sobbing and stared at Him, believing, but unsure what, exactly, that belief entailed.
“There.” Jesus wrung out the bloody cloth when there was no more mess to wipe up. “Better?”
“You healed me,” said the heckler.
“I did.”
“But I…I…I was…”
“I know.”
The man bowed his head. “Forgive me, Rabbi. I am a sinner.” The tears welled up again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What’s your name? Look up, tell Me your name.”
“Noah.”
Christ smiled and embraced him. “Your sins are forgiven, Noah. Go, and sin no more.”
It was a beautiful moment. Witnessing a broken, unhappy soul finding redemption was always going to be a joyous occasion. For a brief moment John felt happy.
Then his hand throbbed. It was probably broken. From breaking the face that the Messiah had just healed.
A lump formed in John’s throat.
Finally, all too quickly, Jesus turned to John. John couldn’t meet His eyes. The Messiah nicknamed them Sons of Thunder. He had told them to keep their tempers. A direct commandment specifically for them.
And John had just broken it.
“Hey.” Jesus cupped His disciple’s face and tilted his chin up. “Go to the river, and put your hand in the water. James, go to the camp and get Zee. Tell him to come here and help Ramah. Then go to your brother.” He put His hand on Big James’ shoulder and looked between both of them. “Remember that I called you by name and you are Mine.”
There were so many things John wanted to say.
I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t throw me out. Please don’t make me go away. I’m sorry.
He said nothing, but let Big James lead him away. They parted ways at the camp. John didn’t think he could face anyone else.
“You know He loves you, right?” Big James said, before they split.
“I messed up. I messed up so bad.”
“Yeah, but—”
“He told us to keep our tempers. He nicknamed us Sons of Thunder because we couldn’t keep our tempers. And I messed up. I did the thing He told us not to do.”
“He still loves you,” Big James said.
“Did you see what I did to that guy’s face? You think He’s going to love me after that?”
“I still love you. And He’s the Son of God, so He loves everybody more than I do. So, yeah. I think He does still love you after that.”
The certainty accompanying that statement was appreciated, even if John had trouble believing it. He returned his brother’s brief hug, then made his way down to the river.
——
Once John arrived by the clear water, and inhaled the subtle scent of rushes, river plants, and clean air, he sat down on the bank and cried. Not for very long, just long enough to feel pathetic and weak.
How could he have screwed up that badly? He had been trying, really trying, to curb his temper. He had tried so hard and in end, he just threw it all away.
It hurt to screw that badly. Not just physically, but inside.
John wiped his nose on his sleeve, which was a little childish, but who cared? He had disappointed the Messiah. There was no coming back from that.
Big James arrived from camp and sat down beside him. Normally, John appreciated this part of having a sibling. He had never been without a companion. Someone had always had his back, and he had always been cared for. He was lucky and he knew it, and usually he was grateful for it.
Right now though, he felt too miserable to feel grateful.
After a few moments, James spoke. “You remember that girl I was in love with when I was twelve?”
What? “What?” said John.
“She lived down the street. She was a year older than me. What was her name?”
“Why would I…?”
“Selah. That was her name. You teased me about how I followed her around like a whipped dog.”
Of all times for James to remember a stupid childhood infatuation. “I really don’t…”
“You got pretty mean about it sometimes.”
“You were spending too much time with her, and not enough time with me,” John muttered. He hadn’t gotten any sympathy either. Eema had just laughed when he complained, and Abba had told him that women were both blessing and curse and he would understand that someday.
“And one day, I don’t even remember what you said, but you said something rude and I punched you in the gut.”
“We were kids. Kids hit each other all the time.” They had (mostly) grown out of it.
“They do. But I felt bad about it. You were my little brother, and I hurt you. And I knew Eema wouldn’t like that.” The thought of displeasing their mother was enough to make them both shiver. “And the more I worried about it, the worse I felt. So I went down to the beach and found Abba. I told him everything.
“He laughed. Told me it wasn’t great, but he understood. You were annoying. I shouldn’t do it again, but he would talk to Eema, and I could apologize when we got home.”
“He told me he whipped you.” John felt a little indignant to learn the truth.
“Yeah, well, he told you that to keep you from whining.”
John was silent for a moment. “Do you think Jesus is going to do that?”
“Part of it, maybe? He doesn’t lie, and He doesn’t pretend things are good when they’re bad. But we’ve screwed up before and He forgave us. So maybe if you talk to Him, He’ll understand and forgive us again.”
John shook his head. “We were both wrong in Samaria, but this is my mess.”
“You’re still my—”
“And how many times do you think He’ll put up with that? How many times do I get to mess up before He tells me to leave?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Both men looked up to see Mary the Mother coming toward them with the cooking pot. She was getting water to prepare the evening meal. When she saw John she looked alarmed. “John, what’s wrong?”
Salome wasn’t there, and John really needed a mother. Barely holding himself together, he told Mary what had happened.
“And you think He’s going to tell you to leave because you made a mistake?” She set the cooking pot down and knelt beside them. “Listen to me, both of you. Jesus has never turned away someone who needs Him. He loves you, even when you make poor choices. Maybe especially when you make poor choices. If you apologize, He will forgive you.”
“See?” James thwapped his brother’s arm. “Even she says He’ll forgive you.”
“How many times?” John asked. “How many times is the Messiah going to tolerate this?” He gestured to himself with his non-broken hand.
“If there’s a limit, nobody’s reach it yet,” she said. “And He doesn’t tolerate you. He loves you.” She hefted the pot. “James, can you help me carry this back, please? Then you can come back and I’ll get Jesus.”
It wasn’t like James could refuse. John found himself alone by the still water of the river. He tried to remember Mary the Mother’s words of encouragement, and told himself that James was right; Christ forgave. He welcomed everyone back and healed them. He even forgave the heckler.
It was logical that He would forgive John.
Being logical was just a little bit difficult at the moment.
John wanted forgiveness. It was just that he knew he didn’t deserve it, and he was afraid to be wrong. It made sense that Jesus would forgive him…but what if He didn’t?
James came back, and he sat beside John in silence for a few moments. When the quiet got too heavy he said, “Do you want to scream?”
“Scream?”
In his bag, James had tucked a large cloth. One of Thomas’ cooking rags. He handed it to his brother. “Scream into that. As loud as you want.”
The nice thing about having James as a brother was that he understood that sometimes you just needed to let things out. John buried his face in the cloth so tightly he could have suffocated himself, and screamed. Multiple times. Then he handed it back.
He felt, not better, exactly. But less wound up. “Thanks.”
“Mmmhmm.” He didn’t try to joke or convince John things weren’t bad, and John was grateful for that.
Jesus came to the river. He sat beside the brothers.
Big James spoke first. “He was provoked, Rabbi.”
“I know.” The Lamb of God who took away the sin of the world reached over and cupped James’ face, where the heckler hit him. There was a faint bruise, barely visible, that disappeared when Christ touched it. “There. Better?”
That Christ was so easily able to fix the thing that made John mad did not make him feel any better.
“Thank you,” James said. “But the man also heckled Ramah.”
“I know what he did, James. Why are you telling Me this?”
“He didn’t just hit the guy, is what I’m saying. He didn’t just start fighting for no reason. It’s not his fault.”
“It is my fault,” John said.
At the same time Christ said, “It is his fault.” He made sure both of them were looking at him before continuing. “Listen to Me. There will always be hecklers. There will always be people who think they are clever when they are being stupid. You cannot control that. You can only control how you react to them.”
“I didn’t react right,” John said softly, his eyes fixed firmly on a particular strand of river grass.
“No. You didn’t.” Jesus tilted his chin up to look at him. “But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. Nor does it erase all the times you kept your temper. I know how you’ve tried to stay calm when people are people. I know when you’ve taken a deep breath before speaking, and I know when you’ve held back. Today was not good. Tomorrow will be better.”
John didn’t even try to hold back the tears. “I’m sorry.”
Jesus smiled. “I forgive you.”
“How many times, though? I’m a mess.” He held up his broken hand. “See? Mess.”
Jesus took his hand. “I told you to put your hand in the river.”
He had. And John had been so upset he forgot the instruction. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Shhh. It’s alright. We can fix it now. Come on.” Jesus helped him up and led him into the water. He scooped up a handful and washed the broken hand.
The dried blood washed away, as did the pain. The bones pulled themselves back together, and the broken skin on his knuckles knit itself right again. Within moments John’s hand was clean and whole.
“There. The mess is fixed. I’ll let you wash behind your ears yourself though, hmm?”
John laughed, just a little, and more out of amazement than because the joke was that funny. “Thank you.”
“And as for how many times I’ll do that…” Jesus shrugged. “However many times you need. There is no limit to God’s forgiveness. He wants your heart. Give Us that, and everything else will fall into place.”
He pulled John into a hug, and led him out of the river. Once on dry land, James ran his knuckles over John’s head. John batted him away and they squabbled all the way back to camp.
——
There was a fight at camp. Well, sort of. James and John followed Jesus to where Zee and Ramah were sparring.
Zee blocked Ramah’s punch and threw one of his own. She side stepped that, and put more distance between them, grappling and side-stepping every hit.
John was surprised. She was good.
Thomas stood off to the side and scowled. “They’ve been doing this ever since they got back,” he said to Jesus.
“Ahhh. Interesting.”
Thomas squawked. “Interesting? Interesting?”
“They’ve been doing it for a while, actually. This is just the first time she’s let you see it.”
Thomas looked ready to faint.
Ramah skipped to Zee’s side and kicked out the back of his leg, throwing him off balance. With a great deal of drama and theatrics, he fell back, loudly whinging about his defeat.
Looking utterly radiant, Ramah noticed them. Grinning, she ran past Thomas. “Rabbi, did you see?”
“As I have said, you are a very strong woman. Hopefully, you realize it.”
“Why does she need to be strong?” Thomas asked. “She’s very protected. I can…all of us can protect her.” He gestured to everyone else.
“Zee’s been teaching me for a while now,” Ramah said. “In case I ever need to protect myself.”
“But…you’re already protected.”
“Are you really suggesting you can protect anybody?” Zee called out. He hopped to his feet and practically bounced over. The former Zealot looked happy? Energized? John wondered if he enjoyed teaching, or if it was pretending to be grievously injured that made the man so cheerful.
“This is a mission of peace,” Christ said, firmly. “But having Ramah to help move people, to greet the women who come to see Me, to see things men might overlook, would be helpful.”
“But…” Thomas looked between the woman he so obviously adored and the Rabbi they all loved. “She’s a woman.”
“Thank you, Thomas, I hadn’t figured that out.” Christ smiled. “I am not blind to the fact that women are often mistreated, and that it might be dangerous for them in a way it wouldn’t be for men. And, as I said, she should realize she is strong.”
“You handled that guy really well,” John said suddenly. “You didn’t let him bait you.”
Ramah beamed. “Thank you.”
“She’s always handled rough situations well,” Thomas said, still looking uncomfortable with the whole thing.
“I’ve had good company when rough situations happen,” she said.
Thomas flushed, and it was all John could do not to laugh.
——
They left early the next day. It was warm and bright without a single cloud in the sky. John wasn’t superstitious, but he couldn’t help but hope the blue sky and sunshine were a sign. No thunder today. No temptation today.
“You okay?” James asked. John was trailing the group, feeling more than a little embarrassed and awkward.
“I mean.” John shrugged. “I’m kind of hoping to keep my head down and stay out of trouble for a while.”
“Only for a while though, huh? It’s no fun if you’re not getting into trouble with me.”
John snorted, and shoved his brother a little. James shoved him back, which lead to a wrestling match.
“Uh…hi?”
They turned around. It was the heckler. No. It was Noah. His name was Noah.
John broke apart from his brother and straightened his clothes. “Hi.”
There was an extremely awkward moment of silence. Noah stared at the ground, and held out a bag. “Um. I brought these for you.”
James took the bag and they both looked inside. Cherries.
“Thanks,” John said.
“Yeah, um. I’m sorry. For riding you guys. And You,” he said. Christ had noticed James and John had fallen behind and came back to get them. “I know I said I was sorry before, but, um, I wanted to say it again. And to the woman.”
Jesus smiled, and this time John was able to enjoy the sight without the throbbing pain in his hand.
The mess was gone.
Fin.
A SUMMARY:
Jesus: Don’t do the thing.
John: I did the thing. :(
Jesus: I know, and I love you. Now let Me fix this.
John: :D
I enjoy writing the disciples as drinking respect women juice. It warms my heart.
James is such a good big brother.