Saviour

by Christopher Gallagher

  'Well, I'm right sorry about that.' Todman retorted. ‘We've followed you without question for many months, but this is a step too far. All this talk of eating human flesh, drinking your blood.' He shook his head. 'I'm not having that.' He looked around at the nods of confirmation, 'We're not having it.'

  Jesus sighed. 'The Spirit gives life, the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are full of the Spirit and life. If this offends you, it’s better you go now.'

  The disciples watched in silence as the crowd, led by Todman, walked away until they disappeared round the bend where the wild boar had gone not long before.

  Jesus turned to the twelve gathered around. 'This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them. Do any of you want to leave too?'

  Peter shrugged. 'Where would we go Boss? You're the man. You have the words of eternal life.' He looked round at the others who nodded, smiled their confirmation. 'We believe you are the holy one of God.'

  'I chose you all individually.' Jesus said. 'But, I tell you now, one of you is from the evil one.'

  ✝

  'We need to get bread.' Simon told Jude on the boat back over to Bowness.

  'No probs, buddy, I'll sort it.' Jude replied.

  'Be careful,' Jesus told them both. 'Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and the priests.'

  Simon gave Jude a puzzled look. Jude shrugged. 'No idea mate.'

  A few of the others heard the conversation and joined in. Very soon, a heated debate about Jesus' meaning was going round the boat. The argument was still going strong when they arrived at the minibus.

  'I expect it’s because we’re out of bread.' Peter suggested.

  Jesus listened for a while to the various interpretations, and then said. 'You have such little faith. Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not understand? Don't you remember the two cheese rolls for the five thousand and how much was left? How is it you don't understand that I'm not talking about bread? But to be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and the priests.'

  'I think,' John said, 'That the Boss means to guard against the teaching of the Pharisees and the priests.' He looked at Jesus for approval.

  Jesus nodded. 'Correct, John.'

  Correct, John. Peter seethed within. He was the leader of the disciples, and second in command to Jesus. You need a skipper and he needs a deputy. He slumped into a corner seat, glad he wasn't driving. He groaned when he heard the hiss of the radio through the speakers.

  '...flash. It has been announced that the death has occurred of the itinerant preacher, Baptiste. Details are sketchy at the moment, but unconfirmed sources are suggesting that Baptiste was beheaded whilst being held without charge at State Security HQ in York. More on this and other news at the top of the hour. Now, it's back to Mad Mike in the studio...'

  Jim clicked the radio off, glanced over his shoulder and saw the others had heard.

  'Bastards.' Tom exploded. Jesus moved seats, put his arm round Tom's shoulder and murmured a few comforting words.

  The mood was sombre. Most of them knew Baptiste and were shocked by his death. Nothing of note had been given out on the main news, just the fact that Baptiste was dead. Beheaded, how did that happen?

  'Who do people say the Son of Man is?' Jesus asked after a few minutes silence.

  Peter resolved to stay out of this one as various answers were given by the others.

  'Eliyahu.'

  'Jeremiah.'

  'One of the other prophets.'

  Jesus looked across at Peter, 'What about you?' He asked. 'Who do you say I am?'

  Peter hesitated for a second, then, 'You are the Messiah,' he replied. 'The Son of the living God.'

  Jesus smiled. 'Blessed are you Peter, son of Jonah, this wasn't revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my father in heaven. Your name, Peter. Do you know what it means?'

  Peter shrugged. He was sure he knew at some point, but had forgotten. 'No, Boss.'

  'It means rock in the Greek language.' Jesus took Peter's hands in his own. 'I tell you the truth, you are the rock, on which I declare, I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.'

  Still holding Peter's hands, he looked round at the other disciples. They were all present apart from Judas who preferred to travel on his powerful motorbike. 'I tell you lads, this is a momentous day. But don't tell anyone that I'm the Messiah.'

  The disciples looked at each other, promised Jesus that they wouldn't. One of the lads muttered something, the others laughed. Peter didn't care. He felt incredibly proud. Second in command. A rock on which a church would be built. Jim started the engine, pulled out of the car park, and headed north to Carlisle.

  ELEVEN

  CARLISLE, NORTHUMBRIA.

  Andrew marched on, Peter trailed behind, wondered what had got into his brother.

  'Not so fast Andy.' He said, catching up. 'There's no rush.'

  They were in Carlisle. Jesus was in the shopping centre, walkabout and preach, healings, casting out of demons, usual stuff. Peter had volunteered to get camping site info from the local tourist information office. Andrew had tagged along.

  Andrew stopped abruptly, turned, and waited for his brother to catch up. 'You gonna tell us then?' He asked bluntly.

  'What?' Peter met his gaze impassively.

  The day before, on the road to Carlisle, Jesus had called a halt. He’d set out walking across the fields, taking Peter, Jamie, and John with him, leaving Andrew and the others in the minibus. Intrigued, they'd watched the four men walk into the distance until they disappeared from view. Four hours later, they'd returned, got on the bus, and resumed their journey. Nobody said a word.

  Andrew had been pissed off at not being invited along, further annoyed not to be told what had happened. He was still annoyed now. They were either in it together or they weren't.

  'Don't play the innocent, Peter.'

  Peter shrugged. 'Dunno what you mean.'

  Andrew took a deep breath. He’d have to spell it out then. 'Yesterday. On the mountain.'

  'Oh, that?' Peter smiled. He gave the same smile as a child when he knew something Andrew didn't. It still had the power to infuriate.

  'What happened yesterday?' Andrew demanded.

  Peter shook his head. 'Nothing much.'

  'What, you three went up a mountain with the Boss and nothing happened?'

  'I can't tell you. Simple as that.'

  'Can't or won't?'

  'Look, if you want to know, ask Jesus.'

  'You won't tell me?'

  'I can't. I wish I could, but the Boss told us not to talk about it.'

  'You looked different when you came back.' Andrew probed. 'All of you. Like you'd had some kind of spiritual experience.'

  That was it, Peter thought. A spiritual experience.

  They'd left the minibus, crossed the fields, and climbed a narrow path up Helvellyn. Just short of the summit Jesus had stopped. Peter, Jamie, and John looked at each other, tried to work out what was happening. Peter would have found it difficult to put into words what happened next even if he was allowed.

  Jesus' face had taken on a brilliant glow and his clothes had turned a radiant white. Then, if that wasn't disturbing enough, two people appeared, joined Jesus in conversation. A bright cloud appeared over Jesus and the two men, hiding them from view. A voice from the cloud proclaimed, 'This is my Son, whom I love. I am very pleased with him. Listen to all he tells you.'

  That had been enough for the three disciples. They all hit the deck at the same time. Peter couldn't say how long they stayed like that, but after a while, Jesus tapped him on the shoulder, told him to get up. Peter had looked up. Jesus was alone and looking normal again. Jesus had told them not to mention what they'd seen.

  Talking later with Jamie and John it tr
anspired that all three of them had thought the other two to be Moses and Eliyahu and that the whole episode had been a confirmation of Jesus' divine status.

  Peter held his hand out in a conciliatory gesture. 'Come on bro, you know I'd tell you if I could.'

  Andrew shrugged. 'Yeah.'

  They walked on in silence.

  ✝

  Campsite, Carlisle, Northumbria.

  'Boss?'

  'Something troubling you, Peter?'

  'I've been thinking about this forgiveness business.' Peter scratched his ear.

  'And, you've reached a conclusion?'

  Peter shrugged. ‘I know it's a good thing to do. Everything you teach is good in that way.'

  Jesus smiled. 'But you're unsure about something.'

  'How many times should I forgive my brother or sister who's done me wrong? Some o' the lads reckon two or three,' but, Peter frowned, shook his head, 'I reckon six or seven.'

  Jesus sighed. 'I tell you the truth, Peter, not seven times, more like seventy-seven.'

  'I'm way off the mark then.' Peter conceded.

  Jesus nodded. 'It's like a king from bygone days. He was owed ten thousand bags of gold by this particular man. The man couldn't pay, so the king ordered him to be thrown in the dungeons and all his possessions sold to go towards paying the debt. When the man heard the verdict, he fell on his knees, begged for more time, and said he'd pay it all back. The king took pity on him and cancelled the debt on the spot.’

  ‘The man was so relieved. He went straight out to celebrate. He bumped into somebody he knew who owed him a hundred silver coins. He gripped the man by the throat, demanded his money back. The man fell to his knees, asked for time to pay. The first man went off and had the second man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt.’

  ‘Now, when other people heard what had happened, they petitioned the king. The king called in the first man, told him he was wicked, had him jailed, and reinstated his debt.’

  'This Peter,' Jesus concluded, 'is how my heavenly Father will treat each one of you, unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.'

  ✝

  Skipton, Northumbria.

  Swanger drank her tea, refused a biscuit, and looked around the living room. Letting the silence build, she took in the shabby furniture, faded curtains, and frayed carpet. Opposite her on the settee, the middle-aged woman tugged her skirt over her knees. She seemed nervous. A natural fear of authority, or something else?

  'Your partner?' Swanger said after a few minutes. The woman avoided eye contact, licked her lips. 'When did you last see him?'

  'I went through all this with the Polizei officers who came out.'

  Swanger smiled. 'It's a pain I know,' she took a quick glance at her clipboard, 'Stella, but as his employer, we at Northumbrian Water need to be sure about what happened.’

  Stella was silent. It was obvious to her what had happened.

  'He was one of the family.' Swanger continued, 'We feel a measure of responsibility.'

  'Will there be compensation?' Stella asked.

  ‘Maybe,' Swanger conceded, but don’t push it, love.

  'I just want him home.' Stella whined.

  'What do you think happened to him?'

  'How would I know?' She shrugged

  'Another woman?'

  'Alan?' She laughed scornfully. 'I doubt it.'

  'We've excavated the building where the explosion took place,' Swanger said. 'There's no sign of a...' She let it hang.

  'Or Archie.' Stella reminded.

  Swanger nodded. 'Or Archie.'

  'Alan took that dog everywhere, company, like.' She sniffled into a tissue. 'He loved that dog.'

  'Did Alan have any political affiliation?’ Swanger asked.

  'You what?'

  'Could he have been involved in the planting of the bomb?'

  'Alan? No. He was crap at that sort o' stuff. DIY, like.' She shook her head. 'Tried mending the toilet once, flooded the house.'

  Swanger wondered if it was worth booking her in for a session in the basement of State Security HQ. She claimed not to know anything but most wives, in her limited experience, knew something.

  'Happen he's at the bottom of the reservoir.' Stella sniffed again. 'Him and his blessed dog.'

  Swanger nodded, didn't comment. She couldn’t remember seeing anything in the report about an underwater search. Try that, first, she decided, leave the water boarding for now.

  ✝

  Shopping centre, Carlisle, Northumbria.

  They heard a commotion coming from within the shopping centre. The other disciples were surrounded by an agitated crowd. When Jesus and John approached, a cheer went up. 'At last.' A voice called out. 'The organ grinder.'

  'What's the problem?' Jesus asked Peter who was arguing with a red faced man in his thirties.

  'I’ll tell you what the problem is,' the man retorted, 'I've brought my son to be healed. He's been possessed by an impure spirit who's robbed him of speech. It gets right violent at times, throws him to the ground. He's alright, one minute, next, bang, he's on the deck. Foaming at mouth, grinding his teeth. He's gonna hurt himself one day.'

  Jesus listened, nodded understandingly.

  'And if that weren't bad enough, this lot here,' the man swept his arm in an arc, encompassing the watching disciples, 'are complete rubbish.'

  The disciples looked at each other. The guy was being unreasonable.

  'You unbelieving and perverse bunch.' Jesus addressed the disciples. Peter opened his mouth, shut it again. 'How long shall I put up with you?' He paused. 'How long shall I stay with you?' Jesus turned back to the irate father. 'Is this the lad with you now?'

  'Aye.' The man pushed his teenage son towards Jesus.

  'How long has he been like this?' Jesus asked.

  'Since he was a nipper, hardly out o' nappies.'

  The crowd was silent now, watching expectantly. 'Please help us,' the man pleaded, 'if you can.'

  'If you can?' Jesus seemed amused. 'Everything is possible for one who believes.'

  'I do believe.' The man insisted. 'But please, help me overcome my unbelief.'

  The crowd murmured.

  Jesus placed his hand on the boy's head. 'You deaf and mute spirit,' he said, 'I command you to come out of this boy now.' As Jesus finished speaking, the boy convulsed, fell to the floor. The crowd groaned, and then backed away in alarm when a loud shrieking noise was heard. Wraith like wisps of smoke hovered over the boy for a second, and then vanished. The boy lay so still that Peter thought him dead, but Jesus helped him to his feet, shook hands with his father, and wished them well.

  Later, when the crowd had dispersed, Peter asked, 'Why couldn't we drive it out?'

  'Because you have too little faith.' Jesus replied. 'I tell you the truth. If you had faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.'

  ‘Hey up, they’re here again.’ Jim called out.

  Peter looked up and groaned. The small band of Pharisees that followed them around, questioning, criticising, had gathered together. Their ringleader, Brotherton, was first to speak. ‘Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders?’

  ‘Which one?’ Peter growled.

  Jesus held up his hand, Peter fell silent. He knew the Boss didn’t need his protection, but these people, they were hard to like, let alone love.

  Brotherton ignored the interruption. ‘They don’t wash their hands before they eat.’

  Peter groaned in annoyance. This was the ceremonial hand washing that the Scribes insisted upon before eating, whether one's hands needed it or not.

  ‘And why do you break the command of God,’ Jesus replied, ‘for the sake of your tradition?’

  Brotherton looked affronted as Jesus continued. ‘God said, ‘honour your father and mother,’ and ‘anyone who curses their father or mother is to be put to death.’ But you say that if anyone declares t
hat what might have been used to help their father or mother is ‘devoted to God,’ they are not to ‘honour their father or mother’ with it. So you nullify the word of God for your tradition.'

  Brotherton was silent.

  ‘You hypocrites.' Jesus said. 'Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you.

  "These people honour me with their lips,

  But their hearts are far from me.

  They worship me in vain.

  Their teachings are just human rules.”’

  Jesus called the disciples to him and said, 'Listen and understand. What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them.'

  Brotherton and his band, turned, stalked off.

  Jamie said, ‘I think you’ve upset them again, Boss.’

  Jesus sighed. ‘Every plant that my Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots.’ He shook his head in sorrow. ‘Leave them. They are blind guides. If the blind lead the blind, they’ll both fall.’

  ‘Explain the parable to us.’ Peter said.

  ‘Are you still so dull?’ Jesus demanded. The others laughed. ‘All of you.’ He turned, took them all in. ‘Don’t you see that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach, through your digestive system, then out the other end? You must know this from biology at school. But the words that come from a person’s mouth come from the heart and they defile them. For out of the heart come evil thoughts. Murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what defiles a person, not eating with unwashed hands.'

  Later, moving about the crowd, Jesus took a baby in his arms. 'Whoever welcomes a child in my name welcomes me,' He kissed it on the forehead, 'and whoever welcomes me doesn't just welcome me, but welcomes the one who sent me.' He blessed the child, handed it back to the beaming mother, and moved deeper into the crowd.

  We could do with proper security Andrew thought, keep the crowds at a sensible distance. Jesus didn't seem to have any regard for his own safety, didn't mind who he spoke to, who he greeted. Andrew hated it when he was surrounded by people like now, any nutter could pull a knife. He'd confided his fears to the others and they were all in agreement. Jesus needed protecting.