Christian Fiction
Jesus’ Diary — Part Two
Meeting a Forgotten Friend
Go to part one:
‘But emptied himself, by taking the form of a bondservant, and being born in the likeness of men.’ Philippians 2:7 (NASB)
‘Therefore, He had to be made like His brethren in all things, so that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.’ Hebrews 2:17(NASB)
My take on the mentioned verses of the New Testament is entirely fictional and doesn’t seek to challenge the various theological interpretations surrounding them.
The Jordan River.
A blue oasis amidst dry and corroded grey hills; the place where Joshua’s twelve stones still stood, as a remembrance of the way the water divided to let the twelve tribes reach the other side.
I know what other significance the number twelve will hold.
I know it, but I can’t see it. I’m a blind man stumbling over tall blades of reed and lurching from palm tree to palm tree, groping for answers. How can I do it without You, Father? How?
After the winter floods, Jordan is now quite shallow and resembles the water Mom pours in the irrigation ditch at home. Light blue and sparkling in the sun. Transparent: I can discern the soil underneath, sprinkled with pebbles and sticking brown roots of weed.
I can hear the splashing of water and the soft murmur of voices. And then, one above them all, breaking the natural serenity like an unexpected thunderbolt.
‘So, who’s next? Who wants to be purified? Confess your sins, people, and let this sacred water wash them away from you forever! Get yourselves cleaned with water now, so you’ll be ready for the fire cleansing later!’
‘I don’t understand you, brother!’ someone shouted.
‘What’s there to understand!’ another yelled, ‘Go take a bath, you stinky old coot! Then, maybe your wife will take pity on you and allow you to savor her fiery flesh!’
I smile. There seem to be a lot of people here and they sound well-disposed. And I’d recognize John’s voice everywhere. He used to tell me I had a powerful voice, but I’m not sure I can beat his.
I keep walking, my steps more stable now, although my lips feel cracked and my throat parched. Trees, trees, trees. Finally — the bank. My sandals sink in the mud and crushed blades of weed tangle under my tunic.
There’s a multitude of people on the other bank: men, women, and children. Old and young. Some have obviously come for the fun of it, because my cousin is quite a sight: dirty hair sticking in all directions, long tunic flying freely around his body, its edges swimming in the water like torn sails. His eyes reflect the sun with an eerie intensity.
Eerie?
Or beckoning?
‘Are you possessed, man?’ a youth from the crowd asks.
‘I am!’ John affirms, ‘I’m possessed by the Holy Spirit. Come, prepare your way and He will come to you, too…’
He? It’s not a He, it’s a She!
What?
Who?
I shook my head. I take another step forward and the water washes over my feet. It’s cold. It’s nice.
John sees me.
He freezes.
He is truly a comical sight: not only his hair, but his beard has separated into multiple tribes that fight for territory over his face and neck. His skin is so dirty that he resembles an Ethiopian trader. His bright eyes are the only thing that can make you take him seriously: and their unnatural shining might either attract you to him or frighten you away.
John’s hand darts toward his mouth.
‘Jesus!’ he whispers. Nobody from the crowd hears that. Only me. ‘Oh, Jesus!’
When we were children, he’d always look up to me. In the beginning, I thought it was because of my physique: although I was a bit younger than him, I was taller and stronger. I always won when we created our own Olympic games: I generally outdid all the boys from the neighborhood in wrestling, running, and jumping. Yet later on, when Father gradually revealed Himself to me, revealing Me, I understood it wasn’t my physique at all.
John knew from the very beginning. Just like his parents, he knew.
He stands there now, in the middle of the shallow river, as still as a statue, and keeps mumbling, Jesus. Jesus.
I wade up to him, enjoying the sensation of the cold water soaking into my parched flesh.
‘Hi,’ I smile. ‘I thought you wouldn’t recognize me.’
A wavering smile cracks his own lips, barely visible under the dark hairy jungle of a face.
‘How can I not recognize my God?’ he whispers.
I shudder and fall silent.
We remain there, facing each other, under the Arabah sun, the river moving lazily around our calves. The crowd has fallen silent, too.
They watch us.
I watch myself.
I’m a small human being, who knows a lot, but can’t see anything.
‘I meant, I traveled on foot from Nazareth,‘ I say, the smile never leaving my face, ‘I haven’t washed and all. My mother wouldn’t have recognized me.’
‘Washed?’ John’s eyes widen as if that is a word whose meaning is completely lost to him.
‘Yes, and speaking of which, you could do with a bath yourself. You’re not going out of that river, but you don’t seem to make good use of it, do you?’
My jokes. He surely must remember my jokes. I need him to look at my humanity because that’s all I have now, and right now, he’s more than me, much, much more than me.
John stares at me for some time, eyes and mouth forming perfect circles, and then his face relaxes. He chuckles.
‘You’re right! I baptized only three people today. It seems I still need to learn how to effectively persuade people to change their ways. Perhaps my appearance does play a role. If you say, I’ll trim my beard a bit.’
‘I need your help, John,’ I finally allow my smile to fade. Our eyes cross. His are like spears piercing through my skull. I blink.
‘My help? What for? You…’
‘I’m lost. I need direction. I need you to baptize me.’
His mouth opens again.
The spears coming from his eyes break in two. The brown irises melt into rivers of tears.
Rivers, rivers, millions of rivers, one river, one way, two ways, three…
Three ways?
‘This is my Lord!’ he shouts suddenly, moving away from me, and gesturing to the crowd, ‘My Lord is here, the One I’ve been waiting for so long! The One all of us have been waiting for! Look at Him! Look at Him!’
I feel the gazes. They burn my skin stronger than the sun. I step up and place my hand on John’s shoulder.
‘Do it!’ I say, my voice louder as well.
Let the crowd hear this.
‘You should baptize me, not the other way around!’ now John’s eyes resemble dark lakes; as if the sun has moved away from them to give way to an unexpected night.
‘Do it, or I’ll never be your Lord, ‘ I hiss these words through my teeth because I realize John is about to give up, to run away, to start questioning my personality, and even his own. Then I raise my voice again, and yes, this is a loud voice, even more resonant and clear than John’s, he was right about that once. I can make myself heard. ‘Baptize me, John, because everyone here should see that what you do is right, and should follow!’
These words seem to reassure him. Now he thinks I do it because I want to set an example. Good.
Actually, I do it because this is the first thing Father told me to do, once I’m on my own. I know all my future actions, to the tiniest detail. The schedule is memorized in my head just like the text of the Scriptures. I know it perfectly, but I can’t see it.
And oh, John, if I can’t see it, will I be really able to follow it?
Open my eyes, John…
Open my eyes…
Cold water pours down my head, face, and neck. It seeps into my tunic. It trickles under my armpits.
And then…
Warmth.
Warmth all over me, a warmth that seems to rise me above ground, and I fly over Jordan, fly over the wilderness, over Galilea, over Judea, over the whole Roman empire and the faraway lands of the Indians, Chinese, and Russians, and far, far away above the planet Earth, in Space, through Space, Beyond Space, and I hear the voice, ‘This is my Son, whom I love!’ and I recognize Father’s Voice, but the moment He utters this sentence, He’s gone. He’s gone.
She, however, remains.
The warmth.
‘I’m here, ‘ the warmth says, ‘We’re here.’
‘Who are You?’ I ask amazed, because I’m not only me again, I’m Us, but a different Us, something that human beings will be able to be after my physical body is gone.
‘You know who I am. You know who We are.’
‘You’re not Father.’
I hear a tinkling laughter in my mind; so joyful that I want to burst out laughing Myself.
‘It’s funny how you’re sleeping in this human body.’ She says. Yes, this is She, She is a woman, She is the beginning of all that is female, all that is producing, all that is connecting, all that is soothing, and at the same time, all that is breakable and hurtable. ‘It’s funny how You need to be taken out of this dream, so gradually, so carefully…’
‘You’re…’ I can see Her now. I can see Us, and I laugh not only in my mind but in my physical body, too. My shoulders shake. ‘You’re the Spirit! Our Spirit! Our way of Connection with the Creation!’
‘Our way of connection with the Creation!’ she repeats melodically.
‘You’re going to be my Connection with Father while He’s away!’
‘Yes.’
‘Through You, He’ll hear my prayers, and through You, He’ll be able to reveal Himself in me!’
‘Yes.’
‘So, in the end, I won’t be alone!’
‘Father never said you’re going to be alone. He said you’re going to be ‘As alone as human beings will be until the new time-bound reality.’ Which means, you’ll be with Me.’
‘Then I can do it.’
‘You can do it.’
She grows silent. The world grows silent. I look around, water dripping from my hair, beard, and clothes, and I realize I have a wide smile on my face. The warmth is in me. She will never leave me now. I’m just a human, and I can’t do anything on my own anymore, but She is in me and this means that I’ll be able to open the door to Father whenever I like.
And He can do everything.
I hug John and kiss him on both cheeks.
‘Thank you, my friend! Thank you! Thank you!’
I realize that all the people at the bank have fallen on their knees. What has happened? Have they heard Father’s voice as well?
They must have.
‘I’m starving,’ I say, slapping John’s neck to get him out of the trance he seems to be falling into, ‘Do you happen to have anything to eat besides grasshoppers?’
He trails beside me, clutching at my wet tunic, while we are wading through the water to reach the other bank. The people look at me, and while their eyes are following my movements, they are unable to budge. They resemble centuries-old Egyptian stones.
Oh, come on!
I start walking among them. I squeeze hands, arms, and shoulders, I caress heads, and I pat backs. I smile and smile. Soon, the multitude stirs. They’re up on their feet, talking and laughing. They are happy. I can feel it. I can feel it because She can feel it.
I’m still not able to see, but now I’m able to feel.
And that should be enough.
