Chapter 27: John the Disciple, Sister Ruth, and Mother Mary

               
5th Gospel--Told by Jesus' Beloved Apostle

               
A Novel by Richard Jewell

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Book II: The Rabbi
Part Five–Messiah
                                      

My beloved David, how can I explain Jesus’ crucifixion to you when already it has become more a legend than a set of detailed facts, more a children’s fairytale than a deep and earthbound reality? I do not mean that what has been written about it, already, is not true. It is just that so many of the friends look at it with awe and trembling, pointing to their great god, Jesus Christ, who is performing some great miracle for them to behold. This is foolish because it is incomplete.

What Jesus went through on the cross is what all of us, one by one, must go through whenever we are pushed beyond our own limits and must rely on our deepest self.

Each of us has our own cross to bear. The miraculous part of Jesus’ last days on earth is not what he did on the cross. Others may die as heroically and patiently, too. The miracle, if we can call it by that name, is Jesus’ reincarnation in the same body immediately after the crucifixion. He did, David, reincarnate from the dead. In spite of stories to the contrary, he really was completely dead and he really did completely come back again to life. later I will tell you, as he told those of us who were closest to him, how he did it.

Best of all, David, each of us can learn to do it, too–to vivify our bodies, or create material life, out of nothing but pure power of self. Jesus has carved a tunnel down through the bowels of the earth to the deepest and darkest physical energies within us, and brought light to these slumbering recesses. The tunnel is made; it opens as wide as a cavern as countless numbers of us plunge downward after him, seeking the depths he already reached. We bring our own light when we descend, for our awareness illuminates every crack and seam as far as our eyes can see. The lower we go the more we can change ourselves by just thought and meditation. The higher we go, up and into the inner sky, the more light and knowing we gain for plunging into the caverns again.

and the more we center our awareness in our hearts, the more we have love to unify everything in us and t find God within the true self of all things. We are everything, David, and everything is within us.

Yet everything also is outside of us. The least flower, as well as the complex individuals of our human race, each has its own awareness, its own true self at the core of which is God. That is why we can worship beings and spirits outside of us and get real results.

Anyone, though, who wishes to make great progress must recognize God is both within and all around us. Even the particles of dust and tiniest drops of water have a hidden, slumbering consciousness that is part of the true spirit. It is that consciousness, that awareness, David, that Jesus awakened in his body and the bodies of others whom he helped.

On the cross, though, it was a different matter. He did no healing there. In the tomb the difference was greater still. He did not heal his fleshly particles of death.

He made new particles.

Jesus made new material substances. As God did in the beginning, Jesus made his own earth, a body, and he instilled it with life.

Someday each of us will be able to do the same.

Of course for Lazarus, Jesus healed what already was existing. Yet the two processes, healing death and creating new life, are similar. Jesus came away from that healing more confident and happier than he had been in almost a year. Passover was only a few weeks away, marking the end of his third complete year of work in Israel. He had personally healed or taught at least one hundred thousand people in this short time, and his envoys, family, and closer friends had personally reached one or two hundred thousand more.

His cousin John, the Forerunner, was of course dead, along with some others who died at the hands of Herod’s followers. And almost the whole Pharisee sect and the Sanhedrin were in an upside-down state of fear and anger Jesus was sad that these things were happening. Even a messiah wants his close friends always beside him, and to have the respect of everyone.

Yet in spite of the deaths and the hate directed toward him, he was beginning to feel his work might be worth it. The whole country of Israel was in an excited turmoil, trying to learn what he was teaching.

And he had healed death. This, more than anything else, cheered him. His walk became lighter, his steps more joyous, and he once again encourage singing among his envoys, lifting his voice to join with them in ancient songs. He had healed death! He had wanted to do this ever since he’d been a young man in India.

He took the envoys back to Capernaum and went alone, westward, to Mount Carmel to tell Judy how he had raised Lazarus. She laughed with him when he told her how his own mouth had dropped open a little when Lazarus actually did walk out of the tomb. He also talked with her about his dreams of being trapped inside his own tomb. These dreams were becoming more frequent now, and Judy had been having similar dreams of seeing him in a tomb. They discussed these carefully, and they decided that only one meaning was finally possible: sometime soon he was going to die.

Yet strangely enough, this made him feel even more buoyant. It was as if he had a secret that was wonderful, bringing a quiet smile of pleasure to his lips. After all, he told Judy, if he could heal another man’s death, then why not his own?

The next day he returned to Capernaum just in time to officiate at his sister, Ruth’s, wedding.

Ruth had grown, during Jesus’ several years back from his travels, into an almost tall, very graceful young woman with long, dark hair and flashing eyes. She was at the crossroads of beauty, between girlhood and womanhood, and equal parts of both shone on her half-innocent, half-worldly face. She had traveled to Rome to study while Jesus was still in India and Egypt and had continued her studies in private since returning. Though she was no older than her mother was when Mary had given birth to Jesus, Ruth had almost as much training as her mother had at the same age. But while Mary’s training had come from the Essenes, Ruth’s was more Roman. She had learned busier, more cultured ways than those of Israel’s children, and even how to dress and move as a polished young Roman lady.

When she returned to her homeland, it was therefore natural that she chose as companions young men and women who also knew Roman learning and manners. Because so many Romans in Israel were soldiers, it is not surprising that Ruth chose a soldier with whom to fall in love.

For a long time, Jesus’ mother, Mary, had firmly opposed Ruth’s relationship with the soldier, whose name was Philoas. But Philoas gradually became a friend of Jesus and the envoys, and helped them as much as he could in his official capacity as census taker. “I believe in you,” he told Jesus simply. Finally Mary, too, accepted him, especially when Jesus reminded her that Ruth’s worldly beliefs might lead her beyond the limits of virginity. He suggested that if they wanted to keep Ruth within the bounds of the moral Laws, they had better let her be betrothed. Mary frowned and accepted the inevitable. She decided it didn’t matter for her daughter, any more than it had for herself, what other people might say. Even if Philoas was a Roman, she had come to respect him and enjoy his company whenever he was in the house. Ruth, she decided, had chosen well.

When Jesus arrived at his villa in Capernaum for the marriage the house was crowded. Many friends of both the bride and the bridegroom were waiting for the festivities to begin.

“Hello, Jesus!” many called out to him.

He smiled and called back. He saw Ruth at one end of the room, a long white-linen robe flowing down in the Roman fashion from one of her lovely light-tan shoulders. Her eyes flashed happily and laughingly to him across the room when she saw him.

Nearer the door, Jesus almost bumped into the groom’s party. Philoas, tall with dark, curly hair and a long Roman nose, was talking quickly with one of his soldier friends. Philoas wore a modified version of his leather centurion’s uniform. The leather tunic was new and softly dark. The badges and brass buckles in rows up and down the front were shiny and smooth. His robe, attached high on his left breast and thrown over his shoulder, was bright crimson in honor of his wedding day.

A woman standing near Philoas eyed Jesus. She tossed her light-brown hair over the back of her Greek toga that had a very deep neckline. Her eyebrows suddenly arched. She quietly slipped away from Philoas’ side and glided toward Jesus.

“Hello there,” she said, slowly smiling up into Jesus’ face.

He looked down at her. She was much shorter than he, and she held her shoulders slightly forward so that the neckline of her robe rode outward, partially showing her breast. A strong scent of jasmine rose up from her bare white skin.

“Who are you?” she asked. Her brown eyes traveled up and down his body. “I’m Diana, Philoas’ aunt.” She grinned. He and I are the black sheep of the family. I live in Ephesus now, only a few weeks’ travel away. I just love that red hair of yours!”

“I am Jesus,” he told her. He felt his mouth twitching into a smile. He suppressed it.

“Well, Jesus!” she exclaimed. “I just met another Jesus last night! Don’t you have a less common name? May I call you Red?” She winked at him and bent closer.

Jesus winked back and smiled with one eyebrow rising. “That’s better than some things I get called.”

Just then Philoas came up.

Jesus held his arms out. The two men drew together and clasped each other.

“It’s about time!” Philoas exclaimed. “Ruth was sure you would get trapped by some Pharisee priest and never get here.”

I was stopped by a thief on the way here from Mount Carmel,” Jesus said. “I invited the man to walk along with me. As soon as he found out I didn’t have any money, he agreed. We told each other stories.”

“No money?” Philoas’ aunt said. Her eyebrows suddenly descended and she frowned at Jesus. She glanced quickly at her nephew.

“Aunt Diana,” Philoas said. “Have you met Jesus just now? He is the man who is to marry me to Ruth, the man about whom everyone is making a big fuss here in Israel.”

“He is?” Diana’s eyebrows suddenly arched high once again. She moved so close to Jesus that the front of her chest rubbed against him. “Will you be around after the wedding?” she asked. She grinned with one side of her mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you escape my clutches if you find it absolutely necessary.”

Laughing, Jesus drew back a hand’s breath. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said, “abut I must go south again right away.”

Diana’s shoulders fell. “I knew it,” she said, looking at Philoas. “As soon as I find a handsome man, he’s busy.”

“I believe Jesus is already spoken for anyway, Aunt, “Philoas said. “Isn’t that right, Jesus?”

Jesus nodded solemnly. His eyes sparkled.

Philoas guided him away. “Don’t mind Aunt Diana,” he told Jesus. “She’s really harmless. You know how they are in Ephesus. All that sex worship and their many-breasted goddess.”

Jesus looked back at Diana, through the crowded room. “It’s too bad,” he said, “that an intelligent and beautiful woman like that is not married. Then all that energy of hers might not be so wasted on finding a man.”

“Yes. She was married for a time. Her husband died, though. Ruth and I are encouraging her to find a new one.”

Jesus put his arm around Philoas’ shoulders. “You will make a good pair, you and Ruth. Let’s get this feast day started. I am here now, so the march can begin.”

Jesus ruled the feast that day and the next. Wine and sweetmeats, breads and young lamb, and several kinds of fish appeared on the serving trays and disappeared just as quickly, and everyone danced on the grassy rectangle behind the villa and sang before the sunlit Sea. Jesus danced with them, solemnly and yet joyfully as a Galilean fisherman in the prime of his life should. He threw out his hands with the rest, and linked arms with the other men. They went around and around in a closed circle, kicking out their legs and singing loudly to the wind. By the time they were done, everyone was beaded with sweat.

After the wedding, he sought out his mother.

Mary recently had turned fifty. Her beautiful dark hair was graying, now, and her face, though not yet heavily lined, looked ash-colored when she was tired.

Jesus took her away from the new section of the villa, the large hall and its accompanying rooms that had been built for his followers, to the quiet and empty day room of the old part. Afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the south windows and light was glinting off the Sea of Galilee below. A spring sea breeze coming from the east occasionally shifted northward, spreading through the villa and lifting light linen wall coverings away from the rough stucco surfaces beneath them. The spring scent of new-cut ay, earthy and moist drifted into the room now and then.

Jesus quietly led her to one of the couches for reclining. He took another. Occasionally he saw her glance at him with that mixture of examination and respect that was the way her love for him grew now. Anger also grew in her, he knew, as ever more of the authorities plotted against him. Her face, as he watched it, echoed none of this anger. Her daughter, Ruth, had just married. A touch of sadness, mixed with excitement, was making her face glow warmly.

When they were both reclining, she turned to him expectantly, gazing at him and waiting.

“Momma.” He shook his head. He didn’t want to tell her. But it would happen soon, anyway. He wished he didn’t have to tell anyone.

“Momma,” he said. “I have been having more dreams.”

Her face clouded over. She had guided her own life by dreams for many years. She knew the kind of dreams Jesus had been having lately. “you must tell me about them,” she said gently. “Have you discussed them with Judy, yet?”

He shook his head. “Judy does not know about these new dreams. I have told her about old ones like these, but nothing so certain as the dreams I am having now! Besides, Momma, I wanted to tell you about these dreams first.”

He reached across the narrow space between them and took her hand. “The time has come for me to die.”

She looked at him in shock. “How can you know that you must die now!” she exclaimed. “The dreams so far only show you in a tomb. That could be years from now! It might even mean something else entirely!”

Jesus shook his head. “You have already pointed out that the logical conclusion of my dreams is death. So has Judy. We only were concerned about the time. Now I have seen it. It is sometime during the coming warm months. For I cannot see into the cold months. A cloud gets in my way.”

He breathed deeply. “When I pierce that cloud in my dreams,” he continued, “I see a tomb with Roman soldiers standing outside. And before that, a trial before the Sanhedrin and people throwing stones at me. Beyond that I cannot see.” 

She stood up suddenly and began pacing.

“Momma,” Jesus said.

She spun on him. Tears and anger were in her eyes. “I have been expecting it anyway!” she exclaimed. “You make everyone from priests to Romans hate you! Do you think you can escape their judgment? Every morning when I wake up, I half expect a messenger to be waiting for me to tell me of your torture and death! Why must you die? You can prevent it!”

“How can I conquer death in myself,” Jesus softly asked her, “if I do not first die? For this is the way it always has been in the path of the spirit and growing. Don’t you remember that we often must meet the problem, first, before we create the solution? No matter how well prepared we are, Momma, we never know exactly what a thing will be like until we meet it head on. So, often we must meet it to solve it.”

Mary sat down slowly and closed her eyes. She covered them with one hand. Jesus could feel her anger diminishing. He bent his head tiredly.

“Will all this be wasted?” she asked, her hand still covering her eyes. “All our work and preparation? All you plans?” Her other hand was trembling where it rested on the reed couch.

“No,” Jesus said. “I will reincarnate from the dead right away. I know I will. Haven’t I raised Lazarus and healed almost every sickness that exists?”

She took her hand away and examined his face. “Yes,” she said, “but what will you be like, reincarnated? Will your body look the same? Will you have the same mind? Will you still be Jesus?”

She looked away quickly. Her eyes filled with tears again.

He came to her. Clasping her to him, he bent and looked into her face. “I am your flesh,” he said. “That is what I am, and that is what I shall be when I return. Did you think I would suddenly become a gleaming god, or a marble statue?”

“I don’t know what to expect,” she whispered, bending her head down.

“I will be the same man,” he told her. “I will still be your son.”

They both were silent for several minutes, holding each other.

“Do you accept this” he finally said, looking down upon her greying hairs.

Mary paused; then she nodded.

Suddenly the full force of his love for her welled up in him. He let it pour out of his heart to her.

She looked up, overwhelmed. She felt filled to the point of overflowing. Yet she would not smile. “You must tell me when it is about to happen,” she said, gazing deeply into his eyes. “I must be there.”

He nodded slowly. “I will call you to me, wherever I am. Now come. Let us go for a walk. I’d like to tell you how I have been meditating lately, and what I have been learning.”

“Will you be here in Capernaum long?” she asked, wiping her eyes.

“A few days,” he answered. “Passover is approaching. I am going to Jerusalem again for this one. The crowds in Judea who listen to me are becoming so enthusiastic, since Lazarus’ healing, that some of them may try to crown me king this year. Do you think I should let them?”

She shook her head. “It is simply more danger. make sure they don’t. Then you really would be in trouble with the Sanhedrin, and especially that Roman, Pilate.”

Jesus smiled.

“You are right. But Pilate is a good man. I expect little trouble from him.

They walked and talked. Later in the evening, they ate dinner with Philoas and Ruth. Several days later, Jesus left, alone, for Perea where his envoys and friends were waiting for him. On the way there, he had another dream.

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Most recent revision of text: 1 Oct. 2020.