They found Jesus an hour, that is to say, by our time, after leaving Tiberias. The first to spot him was Joseph, who has keen eyes and can see things from quite a distance, That's him, over there, he cried. In fact there are two persons coming in this direction, and one is a woman. No, says James, it can't be him. A young boy rarely contradicts an older brother, but Joseph is so overjoyed that he dispenses with the usual rules and conventions, I'm telling you, it's him, But I see a woman there, Yes, a woman with a man, and the man is Jesus. Along the riverbank and across a stretch of flat land between two hills that sloped practically to the water's edge, Jesus and Mary Magdalene could be seen approaching. James stopped and waited, and ordered Joseph to stay with him. The boy reluctantly obeyed, eager as he was to run to his long-lost brother, to embrace him and throw his arms around his neck. James, however, was disturbed by the presence of the woman at Jesus' side. Who is she, he asked himself, refusing to believe that his brother already had carnal knowledge of a woman, the very idea created an enormous gulf between James and his older brother, as if Jesus, who boasted of having seen God, was now in a completely different realm, simply by having carnal knowledge of a woman. One reflection leads to another, though we often do not notice the connection between them, it is like crossing a river by a covered bridge, we walk without looking where we are going, passing over a river we did not know existed, and James too began to think it was not right to remain standing there, as if he were the eldest in the family and Jesus should come to him. No sooner did James stir than Joseph ran to Jesus with open arms and cries of joy, startling into flight a flock of birds that, concealed among the tall reeds, had been foraging in the marsh by the river. James walked faster, to prevent Joseph from delivering any messages that were his responsibility, and coming face-to-face with Jesus, he said to him, Thanks be to the Lord that we found you, brother, and Jesus replied, I am delighted to see both of you in such good health. Mary Magdalene, meanwhile, had lingered behind. Jesus asked, What brings you to these parts, and James suggested, Let's go over there, where no one can hear us. We can talk here, said Jesus, and if you're referring to the woman accompanying me, then let me assure you that whatever you have to say and that I may wish to hear can be said in her presence. The deep silence which followed was that of the sea and the mountains put together, not the silence of four human beings confronting one another and summoning their courage. Jesus seemed older, and his skin was tanned, but his feverish look had gone, and the expression behind his heavy, dark beard was composed, serene, despite the tension of this unexpected encounter. Who is that woman, asked James. Her name is Mary, and she is with me, said Jesus. Is she your wife. Well, yes and no. I don't understand. That doesn't surprise me. I must talk to you. Go ahead. I've brought a message from Mother. I'm listening. I'd prefer to tell you in private. You heard what I said. Mary Magdalene stepped forward, I can stay out of the way until you've finished your conversation. No, said Jesus, you share all my thoughts, therefore you should know what my mother thinks of me, so I don't have to repeat it to you later. James flushed and made as if to turn away, giving Mary Magdalene a black look that betrayed mixed feelings of hatred and desire. Joseph stretched out his hands to keep them apart, all that he could do. James eventually calmed down, then remembered what he had to say, Mother sent us to find you and accompany you back home, for we believe you, and with God's help perhaps one day we'll believe what you told us. Is that all. Those were Mother's words. So, not willing to believe what I told you, you wait for the Lord to help you change your mind. Whether we believe or not depends on the Lord. You are mistaken, the Lord gave us legs that we might walk, and we walked, I've never heard of any man who waited for the Lord to say, Start walking, and it's the same with our mind, God gave us a mind to use according to our will and desire. I won't argue with you. Just as well, for you wouldn't win. What should I tell Mother. Tell her the message comes too late, that Joseph spoke those same words in time, but she paid no attention, and even should an angel of the Lord appear and convince her that everything I said was true, I have no intention of returning home. You're committing the sin of pride. A tree weeps when cut down, a dog howls when beaten, but a man matures when offended. She's your mother, and we are your brothers. Who are my mother and brothers, my mother and brothers are they who believe me when I speak, they are the fishermen who know that when I join them, they will catch more fish than ever, my mother and brothers are they who do not have to wait for the hour of my death to take pity on my life. Have you no other message for Mother. That is all, but you will hear others speak of me, said Jesus, then turning to Mary Magdalene, Let us go, Mary, the boats are ready to leave, the fish are gathering, time to reap this harvest. As they walked away, James called out, Jesus, should I mention this woman to Mother. Tell her she is with me and her name is Mary, and the name echoed between the hills and over the lake. Crouching on the ground, young Joseph wept bitter tears.
...
WHEN JESUS GOES TO FISH WITH THE FISHERMEN, MARY Magdalene waits for him, usually seated on a rock at the water's edge, or on a nearby hill if there is one, from where she can easily follow the route they sail. Fishing is no longer a slow operation, for there have never been so many fish in this lake, it's like putting one's hand in a bucket filled with fish, but not for everyone, because if Jesus happens to go elsewhere, then the bucket reverts to being almost empty, and hands and arms soon tire of casting net after net to find only an occasional fish or two trapped in the mesh. In despair, the entire fishing community on the western side of the Sea of Galilee goes to ask Jesus, to implore Jesus, to demand that Jesus help them, and in some places they even receive him with festivities and floral tributes, as if it were Palm Sunday. But the bread of humanity being what it is, a mixture of envy and malice with a little charity here and there, the yeast of fear fermenting evil while suppressing good, one group of fishermen began quarreling with another, one village with another, they all wanted Jesus, and let the others provide for themselves as best they can. Whenever they started fighting, Jesus withdrew to the desert, returning only when the troublemakers repented and asked forgiveness for their rough behavior while protesting their love and devotion. But what we will never know is why the fishermen on the eastern side never sent delegates to discuss the drafting of a fair treaty that would benefit all parties, not including the large number of Gentiles of different races and persuasions who are to be found in this region. The fishermen on the other bank could also have sent a fleet with nets and pikes, under cover of darkness, to kidnap Jesus, reducing those on the western side to a meager existence just when they had grown accustomed to plenty.
But let us go back to the day James and Joseph came to ask Jesus to give up this existence and return home despite his newfound prosperity since he took up fishing. By now the two brothers, James in a rage, Joseph in tears, are quickly making their way back to Nazareth, where their mother continues to wonder whether the two sons who left will bring a third, but she is doubtful. Their homeward route from the spot on the shore where they met Jesus obliged them to pass through Magdala. James scarcely knew the town and Joseph not at all, the place didn't appear to have anything of interest to detain them there, so after a brief rest the brothers resumed their journey. As they passed the last of the houses before the wilderness began, they saw on their left the bare walls of a house that had been gutted by fire. The gate to the yard had been forced open but only partially destroyed, and it looked as if the fire had started inside. The passerby hopes that some treasure may be left among the ashes, and if there is no danger of a beam falling on his head, he cannot resist exploring further. Treading carefully, he pokes at the debris with one foot, looking for something shiny, a gold coin, an indestructible diamond, an emerald necklace. James and Joseph entered only out of curiosity, they are not so naive as to imagine that rapacious neighbors have not been here already to loot the place, although the house is so small that any prized possessions almost certainly have been removed by the owners. The roof
of the oven had caved in, the brick floor was broken, and there were loose tiles underfoot. There's nothing here, said James, let's go, but Joseph asked, What's that. It was a bedstead, but the legs had been burned and the whole frame badly damaged, a phantom throne with bits of charred drapery hanging in tatters. It's a bed, said James, people like great lords and wealthy merchants actually sleep on such things. This doesn't strike me as a rich person's house, argued Joseph. Appearances can be deceptive, James wisely reminded him. As they left, Joseph noticed a cane hanging outside the gate, the sort used for gathering figs, no doubt it had originally been much longer. What is this doing here, he asked, and without waiting for a reply, either from himself or from his brother, he removed the useless cane and took it with him, a souvenir of a fire, of a house destroyed, of people unknown. No one had seen them enter, no one saw them leave, they are only two brothers going home in soiled tunics and with bad news, one brother frustrated by the memory of Mary Magdalene, the other thinking of the fun he will have playing with the broken cane.
Mary Magdalene, sitting on a rock and waiting for Jesus to return from fishing, thinks about Mary of Nazareth. Until today she simply thought of her as Jesus' mother, now she knows, after questioning him, that his mother is also named Mary, a coincidence of no great consequence when one considers the vast number of Marys on this earth and the many more to come if the fashion persists, but we are inclined to believe that there is nevertheless a sense of solidarity between those who share the same name, Joseph for example may think of himself no longer as the son of Joseph but more as his brother, and this could be God's problem, no one else bears His name. These reflections may seem farfetched for someone like Mary Magdalene, but we are confident that she is perfectly capable of such ideas once her thoughts about the man she loves lead her to think of his mother. Mary Magdalene has never had a son of her own to love, but at long last she has learned what it means to love a man, having practiced the thousand and one deceptions of false love. She loves Jesus as a woman loves a man, but also wants to love him as a mother loves a son, perhaps because she is not much younger than his real mother, who sent a message asking her son to come home, only to be refused. Mary Magdalene wonders how Mary of Nazareth will feel when she receives his answer, but that is not the same as imagining how she herself would suffer were she to lose him, for she would be losing her man rather than her son. O Lord, punish me with both sorrows if necessary, murmured Mary Magdalene as she sat waiting for Jesus to return. And as the boat drew nearer and was pulled ashore, as the baskets laden with glistening fish were hauled in, as Jesus, his feet in the water, helped the fishermen and laughed like a child at play, Mary Magdalene saw herself in the role of Mary of Nazareth and, getting up, she went down to the water's edge and waded in to greet Jesus. Kissing him on the shoulder, she whispered, My son. No one heard Jesus say, Mother, for as we know, words that come from the heart are never spoken, they get caught in the throat and can only be read in one's eyes. Mary and Jesus were rewarded with a basket of fish, and as usual they retired to the house where they would spend the night, for they had no home of their own, going from boat to boat and from mat to mat. In the beginning Jesus often said to Mary, This is no life for you, let's find a house of our own where I can join you whenever possible, but Mary insisted, I don't want to wait behind, I prefer to be with you. One day he asked her if she had any relatives who might offer her shelter, and she told him that her brother Lazarus and sister Martha lived in the village of Bethany in Judaea, although she herself left home when she turned to prostitution, and to spare them embarrassment she moved farther and farther away, until she ended up in Magdala. So your name should really be Mary of Bethany if that's where you were born, said Jesus. Yes, I was born in Bethany, but you found me in Magdala, so I think of myself as being from Magdala. People don't refer to me as Jesus of Bethlehem although I was born there, and I don't think of myself as being from Nazareth, because people there don't want me and I certainly don't want them, perhaps I should say like you, I'm from Magdala, and for the same reason. Don't forget we destroyed our house. But not the memory, replied Jesus. No more was said about Mary's returning to Bethany, this stretch of shore is their whole world, and wherever Jesus may go, she will go with him.
How true, the saying which reminds us that there is so much sorrow in this world, misfortunes grow like weeds beneath our feet. Such a saying could only have been invented by mortals, accustomed as they are to life's ups and downs, obstacles, setbacks, and constant struggle. The only people likely to question it are those who sail the seas, for they know that even greater woe lies beneath their feet, indeed, unfathomable chasms. The misfortunes of seafarers, the winds and gales sent from heaven, cause waves to swell, storms to break, sails to rip, and fragile vessels to founder. And these fishermen and sailors truly perish between heaven and earth, a heaven hands cannot reach, an earth feet never touch. The Sea of Galilee is nearly always tranquil and smooth, like any lake, until the watery furies are unleashed, and then it is every man for himself, although sadly some drown. But let us return to Jesus of Nazareth and his recent worries, which only goes to show that the human heart is never content, and that doing one's duty does not bring peace of mind, though those who are easily satisfied would have us believe otherwise. One could say that thanks to the endless comings and goings of Jesus up and down the river Jordan, there is no longer any hardship, not even an occasional shortage, on the western shore, and not only fishermen have benefited, because the abundance offish has brought down prices and provided people with more to eat. It is true that some attempts were made to keep prices high by the well-known corporate method of throwing part of the catch back into the sea, but Jesus threatened to go elsewhere if those responsible for this abuse did not apologize and change their ways. So everyone is happy, except Jesus. He is tired of the constant back and forth, the embarking and disembarking, the same routine day in and day out, and since the power of making fish appear clearly comes from the Lord, why should he be condemned to this monotony until the Lord is ready to summon him as promised. Jesus does not doubt that the Lord is with him, for the fish never fail to come when he calls them, which has led him to speculate whether the Lord might not be willing to concede him other powers, on the clear understanding that he put them to good use. For as we have seen, Jesus, who has achieved so much already with nothing but intuition to guide him, should have no difficulty meeting that condition. There was one way to find out, as easy as saying, Oh, and that was to try. If it worked, God approved, and if it didn't, God was showing His displeasure. The first problem was that of choice. Unable to consult the Lord directly, Jesus would have to risk choosing a power, one that would provoke the least objection, it could not be too obvious, yet not so subtle as to go unnoticed by those who would benefit, or by the world, for that would diminish the glory of God, which must be considered above all things. But Jesus could not make up his mind, he was afraid God might ridicule him, humiliate him as He had done in the desert, even now he shuddered at the thought of the embarrassment he would have suffered if the nets had come back empty when he first suggested, Cast your nets on this side. These matters worried him so much that one night he dreamed someone was whispering in his ear, Don't be afraid, remember God needs you, but when he woke up, he could not help wondering who had spoken, an angel, one of the many who go around delivering messages from the Lord, or was it a demon, one of the many who do Satan's bidding. Mary Magdalene was fast asleep beside him, so it could not have been her.
This was how things stood when Jesus set out one day, which seemed no different from any other, to perform the usual miracle. The clouds were low in the sky and there were signs of rain, but it takes more than rain to keep fishermen at home, they are used to every kind of weather. On this particular day the boat belonged to Simon and his brother Andrew, who had witnessed the first miracle, and it was accompanied by the boat of James and John, the sons of Zebedee, because one can never tell if a miracle will always have the same effect
, a boat nearby may get some of the fish gathering there. The strong wind carries them swiftly out, and after lowering the sails the fishermen in both boats prepare their nets and wait for Jesus to tell them where they should cast them. At this point the situation starts getting difficult, a storm suddenly comes without warning from the overcast sky, it grows so fierce that the waves swell and rise, driven by the frenzied gale, and those two fragile nutshells are buffeted wildly as the elements unleash their wrath. The plight of the defenseless fishermen brought shouts and lamentations from the people watching on the shore. Wives, mothers, sisters, children, and the occasional good-hearted mother-in-law were gathered there, making such a din with their weeping and wailing that it must have been heard in heaven, Oh, my poor husband, Oh, my beloved son, Oh, my dear brother, Oh, my poor son-in-law, A curse on you, miserable sea, Holy Mother of the Afflicted, help us, Protectress of the Voyager, come to our aid, but all the children could do was to weep. Mary Magdalene was there too, murmuring, Jesus, Jesus, but she did not pray for him, she knew the Lord was saving him for another occasion, not likely to let him perish in a mere storm at sea, where the only consequence was a few drowned men. She kept on repeating, Jesus, Jesus, as if the very sound of his name could rescue the fishermen, who certainly appeared close to meeting their fate. In the midst of the storm, Jesus watched the despair and destruction all around him, the waves sweeping over the boats and flooding them, the masts breaking, the sails flying through the air, the rain becoming a flood capable of sinking one of the emperor's own ships. Jesus watched and thought, It is not right that these men should die while I live, the Lord will rebuke me, saying, You could have saved those who were with you, yet you made no attempt to save them, as if your father's crime were not enough. To be reminded of that was so painful, Jesus jumped to his feet, and standing as firmly as if on solid ground, he commanded the wind, Be quiet, and told the sea, Be calm, and no sooner had he spoken than the sea and the wind abated, the clouds in the sky dispersed, and the sun appeared in all its glory, ever a wondrous sight in the eyes of us poor mortals. Impossible to describe the rejoicing in the boats, the kissing and embracing, the tears of joy ashore, those on the far bank were puzzled that the storm died down so quickly, those here, as if restored to life, could think of nothing but their lucky escape, and if some spontaneously exclaimed, Miracle, miracle, they seemed unaware that someone had to be responsible for it. A sudden silence fell over the water, the other boats surrounded that of Simon and Andrew, and all the fishermen looked at Jesus, too astonished to speak, for above the roar of the storm they had heard him call out, Be quiet, Be calm, and there he was, Jesus, the man who could summon fish from the sea, and now he had forbidden the sea to deliver men to the fish. Eyes lowered, Jesus sat on the oarsman's bench, his face showing both triumph and disaster, as if on reaching a mountain peak he was now beginning the sad and inevitable descent. Forming a circle, the men waited for him to speak. It was not enough to have tamed the wind and pacified the water, he had to explain how a simple Galilean, an obscure carpenter's son, could have achieved such a miracle, when God himself had abandoned them to death's cold embrace. Jesus rose to his feet and told them, What you have just witnessed was not my doing, the voice that quelled the storm was not mine but that of the Lord speaking through me, as through the prophets, I am only the mouth of the Lord. Simon, who was in the boat with him, said, Just as the Lord sent the storm, He could also have sent it away, but it was your word that saved our lives. Believe me, it was God's doing, not mine. Whereupon John, the younger son of Zebedee, spoke, proving that he was not at all simpleminded, It may have been God's doing, for in Him resides all power, but He acted through you, so clearly it is God's will that we should know you. But you already know me. Only that you came from who knows where and mysteriously filled our boats with fish. I am Jesus of Nazareth, the son of a carpenter who was crucified by the Romans, for a time I was a shepherd for a flock of sheep and goats, and now here I am with you, and perhaps I will go on being a fisherman until the hour of my death. Andrew, the brother of Simon, said, We will stay with you, because any man with your power is condemned to loneliness heavier than any millstone around one's neck. Jesus said, Stay with me if that is what your heart asks, and if the Lord, as John says, wishes that you should know me, but tell no one what has passed here, for the time has not yet come for Him to reveal my fate. Then James, the older son of Zebedee, who like his brother was no simpleton, said, Don't imagine people won't talk, just look at the crowd there on the shore, see how they're waiting to praise you, some so impatient that they're already pushing out their boats to come and join us, and even if we succeed in reining their enthusiasm and persuading them to keep our secret, how can you be sure that God will not continue to manifest Himself through you, however much you dislike the idea. The living image of sorrow, Jesus hung his head and said, We are all in the hands of the Lord. You more than the rest of us, replied Simon, for He has chosen you, but we shall follow you. To the end, said John. Until you have no further need of us, said Andrew. For as long as possible, said James. The boats were fast approaching, with much waving of arms and chanting of prayers and praise and thanks to the Lord. Resigned, Jesus told the others, Let's go, the wine is poured and we must drink it. He did not seek out Mary Magdalene, he knew she was waiting for him as always, it would take more than a miracle to stop her vigil, and the thought of her waiting for him filled his heart with gratitude and peace. Disembarking, he fell into her arms, and showed no surprise when she whispered in his ear, her cheek pressed against his wet beard, You will lose the war but win every battle. Arm in arm and accompanied by friends, they greeted the cheering spectators, who hailed Jesus as if he were a victorious general. Arm in arm, Jesus and Mary climbed the steep path to Capernaum, the village that overlooked the lake, where Simon and Andrew lived and where they had been offered hospitality.
The Gospel According to Jesus Christ Page 27