Seeing Jesus

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

  Returning to the present, Philly thought, “Where could Grandma get a woman’s phone number so soon after leaving the hospital?”

  “She didn’t even have to leave the hospital,” Jesus said.

  The lonely, thirty-eight year old man stepped back to allow his inner libidinous teenager to awkwardly emerge. “Wait, someone from the hospital?” Philly said telepathically.

  “I just want you to consider the possibility.”

  Philly got nothing more out of his companion on that subject that night, but he called Grandma at home after finishing his frozen dinner.

  “How are you, Grandma?” Philly said, when he heard that familiar voice.

  “Oh, I’m doing great, Philly. Ya know, Jesus told me who was calling, sorta like the caller I.D. you have on your phone.” She laughed.

  Philly laughed lightly. “Yeah, I think he does stuff like that just for fun,” he said, looking at his own Jesus standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, holding Irving. “Irving really likes him, over here,” he said.

  “Do you suppose that they just become one Jesus when you and I get together?” Grandma said. Jesus nodded the answer in both locations.

  “Umhm,” said Philly.

  “Oh,” said Grandma, clearly not as used to this manifestation of Jesus as Philly had become. “He has to keep reminding me to do things,” she said. “I just want to sit and talk to him all the time.” Her voice swelled with satisfaction and wonder.

  In that confession, and with that love tone, Philly could tell that Grandma enjoyed the visit from Jesus even more than he had. But, of course, he thought, she’s loved him forever. The Jesus in the doorway smiled like a groom watching his bride walk down the aisle. Philly assumed that Jesus’s thoughts about Grandma inspired that look.

  “Oh, Philly,” Grandma said, “Jesus just reminded me. That pretty nurse at the hospital, Theresa, wanted me to ask if you’d call her some time. She said she wanted to know more about the healing you did, if you didn’t mind talking about it.”

  Grandma’s explanation of Theresa’s interest veered from what Philly expected, given Jesus’s implication that it was someone who might be an alternative to Brenda, as a girlfriend and not merely as a religious seeker. On the other hand, Philly had certainly liked what he saw of the tall, shapely nurse. He stopped himself there and looked at Jesus. Philly answered Grandma, “Sure, I’d be glad to talk to her. She seemed like a really nice lady,” he said generically.

  “Yes, she did seem nice and very good looking too, didn’t you think?”

  Philly suspected Jesus of telling his thoughts to his grandma, but his Jesus shook his head slowly and resolutely, to say that he would not divulge such thoughts. “You don’t have to be God, to recognize a man who’s attracted to a woman,” Jesus said, still looking at Irving as he stroked the big cat.

  “Yes, Grandma, she was very good looking,” Philly said.

  “That’s good, ‘cause I think she’s interested in more than just the story of my healing.”

  “Did Jesus tell you that?” Philly said.

  “No,” Grandma said. “I could just tell. A woman knows these things.”

  “Yeah, is that so?”

  “Yes. Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night?” Grandma said. “Your dad took me to the grocery store on the way home and I got a wonderful roasting chicken,” she said enticingly.

  “Wow, that sounds great. But are you really up to cooking a big meal?”

  “Up to it? I’m feeling wonderful—never better. I want to put some of this new energy to good use,” Grandma declared. “I’m even going to ladies’ Bible study tomorrow morning, to tell them all about my healing and Jesus being with me. That should be a hoot.” She laughed in a way very close to a literal hoot.

  Philly had no idea what she meant by that last comment. His idea of a ladies’ Bible study was more of a snore than a hoot. But, then, he realized that he had no idea what such a meeting was really like. He had never been to a Bible study of any kind.

  “You’ll have to tell me all about it tomorrow night,” Philly said. “What can I bring to dinner?”

  “Oh, maybe some white wine would be nice,” Grandma said. “That is, unless I can get Jesus to make some out of water.” Here she cackled uproariously at her own joke. Philly, and both images of Jesus, laughed with her.

  The next day, back at work, passing through the lobby, Philly thought he received a strange searching look from one of the designers and perhaps another from the receptionist, who said “Good morning, Phil,” for the first time he could remember.

  In the elevator, alone with Jesus for the trip to the third floor, Philly asked without volume, “Is there something going on here that I should know about?”

  Jesus smiled in the reflection on the elevator doors. “Allyson and Craig have been talking to a few of their friends and coworkers,” he said, casting a provocative sideways glance at Philly.

  An expanding bubble of fear began to rise from his gut to his head, as Philly stepped off the elevator and walked to his office. Safely planted in his chair, the next shoe dropped when Philly opened his email. He found the following note from one of the computer-aided design techs that sat near Allyson:

  Phil,

  I heard from Allyson what you did for her hand and shoulder pain.

  Would it be asking too much for me to stop by and see if you can do something about my neck pain?

  Thanks

  Ben

  Philly noted that this third potential beneficiary of Jesus’s healing touch at work was also African-American, though the racial mix in the company skewed heavily toward European-Americans. The voluntary segregation of relationships in the office explained the small trend and the significance for Philly was more of a curiosity than anything weightier. He had few friends of any color in the office. Opening his life to Craig and his acquaintances made as much sense as anything else.

  The core anxiety launched by that email arose from Philly’s fear that Dennis would hear about his new ministry and Philly knew his boss would not be sympathetic. That anxiety ballooned even more when Philly found two more healing requests from employees that had never spoken to him without a computer-related motivation.

  Even as he hung precariously on the hook of his deepest fears, Philly read the contents of the third healing request in his email:

  Dear Phillip,

  I don’t think we’ve ever talked much and I hope you don’t mind me contacting you about this now, but I heard from Craig, your assistant, that you have found a way to heal people of different kinds of health problems. I was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks ago. The doctor says it’s pretty far along and my biopsy showed that it’s a very aggressive type of cancer. I’m not ashamed to admit that I really am scared. The prognosis doesn’t look good for me. So really I’m begging you to give me a few moments of your time. This is a matter of life and death. I would really, really appreciate it if you would at least give it a try. I know there’s no guarantee. I’m just looking for a chance.

  Thanks so much,

  Anna Beth Miller

  Dangling just short of panic, Philly looked at Jesus. For the first time, the peaceful and confident look on Jesus’s face aggravated him. “How can you just sit there smiling? This is getting out of hand. This girl is dying and thinks I can help her. And everyone seems to know what we’ve been doing with the healing stuff.” Philly’s thoughts dispersed toward the end of his minor mental tirade. Jesus’s look of tranquility morphed slightly to include a patient compassion, as he listened to his scolding.

  Philly grabbed his forehead with both hands and said aloud, “Oh, I’m sorry. This is really stressing me out.”

  “Why?” Jesus said.

  Philly raised his eyebrows and looked at Jesus, sitting contently in his guest chair. “I know you’re not worried, but you gotta understand why I’m worried,” Philly said silently.

  Jesus smiled and answered telepathically. “Wh
en God asks you a question, it’s not because we don’t know the answer. Ask yourself, Philly, why are you stressed? Is your old life so precious that it’s not worth risking any of it to save someone else’s life?”

  Philly just stared, trying to find a place of safety against this new invading force which was scaling the walls, collapsing the gate and overwhelming his defense forces.

  “I didn’t just come into your life to keep you company while your grandma remained in the coma,” Jesus said. “I came to capture you.”

  Planting both feet on the ground, Philly slowly rotated his chair toward Jesus. He sat looking at those eyes, ingesting what he had just heard. Of course, he had known for some days now that this encounter with Jesus would impact him far beyond the duration of his visible and audible presence. But Philly had not ventured into assessing how it would impact him. Certainly, he had already seen several people around him palpably affected; and he would scarcely see his dad, his grandma, or even Craig, again without a background reminder of what he had seen Jesus do.

  “Capture me?” Philly thought, in response.

  Jesus stood up and stepped close to Philly. He leaned down slightly and took Philly’s face in his hands, like a father loving his child. In that gesture, and that look, Jesus seemed older, and more fatherly, than Philly had expected. Indeed, he received that touch—and the winning, inescapable eye-contact—like a shot glass of pure love, ninety proof. Now, for the first time, Jesus’s presence in Philly’s office directly interfered with his work. Philly dove into those eyes and began to weep uncontrollably. Part of him wanted to lock his door, but he couldn’t move. His will and desire had finally latched onto an object for which he had been longing all his life. Other lesser wants and fears bled away under the captivating draw of that loving face and those powerful hands.

  Later, when his face had finally dried, and Philly could feel the relevance of work asserting itself again, he woke his computer from its screen saver and discovered that he had lost twenty-five minutes. If the clock said it had been four hours he would have believed it, as he would have accepted evidence that only a few minutes had passed. The intoxication of that deeper link with Jesus faded enough to allow Philly to return to his duties, but remained strong enough that he accepted all four of the healing requests now in his email box. He invited each to his office during lunch, after only briefly considering how to approach the situation. He glanced at Jesus before hitting “send” each time and saw only affirmation there.

  When the morning had nearly passed, via sundry tasks and mundane occupations, the buzz from Jesus’s touch had faded against Philly’s more usual feelings and concerns. He began to second-guess the wisdom of healing all those people, especially at work. At least he had thought to schedule it during lunch, as some small protection of his job. He checked the weather on-line to see if he could take his little congregation outside. The Internet told him what his windowless office couldn’t, that it was in the upper fifties outside and partly cloudy. He decided that the walk to Washington Square park was not too far to require of people desperately seeking healing.

  First Ben Rogers, then Mary Beth Miller and finally Darcy Chalmers and Sandy Kowalski, accompanied by Allyson and Craig, all gathered outside Philly’s office. He told himself that it might look like a bunch of friends getting together to go out to lunch, as he had seen others do in the office. Anyone who knew Philly, however, would have difficulty believing that explanation, although perhaps not more difficulty than believing the real reason for this odd coalition.

  On the way out of the office, Craig eased Philly’s debilitating self-consciousness by walking next to him, opposite from Jesus, who, of course, seemed nearly ecstatic at the reason for this convoy. Philly’s fears confirmed their threatening furor when the Website administrator stood in the lobby, staring at Philly and his entourage. Allen Breen, the Web guru, would very likely mention this to Dennis. Philly briefly wondered if he had enough cash on him to offer Allen a sufficient bribe. Craig just said “Hi,” to Allen and smiled, a bit amused at the dumbstruck look on Allen’s face.

  Out in the partly-sunny, fresh air, Philly breathed easier, feeling he had escaped the gauntlet, at least for now. He was determined that they would not all return to the office together in the same conspicuous configuration. These thoughts, boosted by the spring weather, relaxed Philly as much as anyone could expect of him, in company with so many imperfect strangers. Though he could identify each of the supplicants, his past relationship with all of them had constructed no facilities in which to hold the activity at hand. He was grateful for some positive and useful experience with Allyson and Craig. He changed his mind, from dreading their addition to the size and absurdity of the group, to gratitude for some support, beyond Jesus.

  At this moment, Jesus seemed less like a supporting companion and more like a force of nature, in Philly’s mind. Washington Square Park began to loom in his thinking as the place where miracles would certainly occur, as if the park had become magical. Yet he knew that the miracles accompanied him on his walk, as they turned on Chicago Avenue, off of LaSalle. He wondered when he saw a sign about a Bible Institute of some kind what the people there would think of this endeavor. He assumed they would be happy about it, but was not sure about that, feeling again how unprepared he was for this whole experience with Jesus.

  Heading north on Clark Street, the caravan had stretched out quite a bit, the seven fully visible people walking in groups of two or three. That these other folks had previous personal connections with each other added some organic comfort to the unprecedented experience, for Philly. The fact that he was the least connected of them all simply perpetuated life as usual, a little piece of familiarity in the heart of this peculiar foray.

  Tulips bloomed and daffodils swayed in the persistent breeze, beneath trees seriously contemplating unfurling leaves in the near future. Philly felt a fleeting regret that Brenda wasn’t with him, as he walked beside the low, wrought-iron fence and into the park. He assessed the sparse population of walkers, runners and strollers passing through, and located a vacant spot under a tree. He wished for leaves and their shade, to conceal the weird little meeting, but pushed all regrets aside, latching onto Jesus and what he had in mind.

  With Jesus next to him, Philly faced the other six mortals, who formed a rough semi-circle in front of him. Ben Rogers was a lanky, young man with yellowish brown skin and brown hair braided in cornrows. He stood half a head taller than the rest of the group. Allyson and Craig stood with Ben. Mary Beth Miller stood back a bit, a bump on the impromptu semi-circle. Her artificially black hair hung over her pale young cheeks, her head slightly bowed, as if she were praying, or struggling with some deep fear. Next to Mary Beth stood Darcy and Sandy, two administrative staffers, both in their late thirties or early forties, both slightly overweight, like Philly, clearly leaning on each other for support in this awkward adventure.

  Philly decided he wanted to heal Mary Beth first, yielding to a compulsion to relieve her of her acidic anxiety and bowing fear. Jesus, on the other hand, motioned toward Ben and said, “We should start with him.”

  Philly had already stepped toward Mary Beth and didn’t want to embarrass himself even more by backtracking and appearing uncertain about what he was doing. The deceptive impulses of fear asserted themselves as usual.

  Jesus reiterated his strategy, “This will work best if we start with Ben.”

  Philly, who assumed it was all the same to Jesus, allowed his nerves to drown out his good sense, which voted for to follow Jesus in this situation. He motioned for Mary Beth to step into the circle. She complied hesitantly. She weighed less than a hundred pounds and Philly felt as if he loomed over her. He felt sorry for her and that trumped everything else.

  Jesus stayed off to Philly’s right, within arm’s length of Ben. However, he kept his hands at his side, waiting for Philly to lead on.

  The others all grew uncomfortable as Philly hesitated, looking off to his right again and agai
n. Ben began to wonder if Philly wanted him to do something, though it seemed to him that the shy computer manager was not exactly looking at him.

  Philly tried to save himself by uttering a strange sort of prayer. “Jesus,” he began, glancing again to his right. “Please come here and touch this girl to heal her of her cancer.”

  Several things happened at once. Mary Beth tensed at the mention of her cancer. She had not wanted anyone else to know about it, hoping for more privacy and discretion from Philly. At the same time, Jesus walked over to where Philly stood, as the rest of the observers turned toward Mary Beth, who was probably the only person there shier than Philly.

  “You’re scaring her,” Jesus said.

  Philly froze, looked at Mary Beth, saw her cowering and then dropped his hand, which had been gently resting on her forehead. This time Philly allowed Jesus to reverse his course.

  “Tell Mary Beth to relax and that you will get back to her,” Jesus said.

  Philly followed his instructions, and then stepped with Jesus to where Ben stood waiting. Mary Beth relaxed slightly and stepped back out of the circle.

  Philly asked Ben, “You have neck pain?”

  Ben nodded gingerly and put his right hand to his neck. “The doctors are afraid to do anything because of the way my discs are inflamed,” Ben said.

  Jesus stepped right up to Ben and put his hand near his neck, ready for Philly to follow. Philly reached up toward the left side of Ben’s neck, opposite Jesus, and hesitated, wondering whether he should touch exactly where Jesus did. But Jesus reassured him.

  “No, you’re fine where you are. Just say, ‘in the name of Jesus, be healed.’”

  Philly repeated that line, with his hand gently touching Ben’s neck. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen and Philly noticed a young woman running past, who slowed to check out the odd activity under the trees. He focused back on Ben, who suddenly startled.