The Gospel According to the Son

20

I began to see my need for disciples who would follow me every day and work at tasks where my ability was small. When I saw Levi sitting at the customshouse, I said: "Follow me," because he had a good and cunning face, and I had need of the light in his eye.

Levi came with us. Nor did I concern myself that he was a tax collector. But soon I learned that few men were as unpopular as those who worked in customshouses gathering taxes for Romans. All the same, I had but one measure for a sinner: Was there some promise of happiness in his countenance? Even a man who cheated others or worked for Romans could reveal more of God to me than I would find in those who were sinless but downcast.

Moreover, I had need of twelve men, one for each of the twelve tribes of Israel, twelve who could look back into my eyes and allow me to see what was in their hearts.

There was one for whom I could not say that, and he was Judas Iscariot. With his dark beard, he was handsome. I wished him to be among my twelve even if I could not see what was in his heart. His eyes were too full of fire. Indeed, I felt blinded by the blaze of his spirit. Notwithstanding, I welcomed him. He claimed to love the poor, saying that he had lived among the rich long enough to despise them. His father was rich, and Judas said that he knew the deceits of the powerful, and all their foul arts. So I knew that he could teach me much more, even though I had to wonder whether he might be Satan's gift to me. But I did not stay long with such a concern. Other matters pressed more.

I lived among those twelve men who were ready to follow me, and hoped that I could teach some of them how to cast out demons, for then I could send them forth to preach. To do that, however, they needed to come closer to me. I could rely on Simon Peter, but I could not as yet be as certain of the sons of Zebedee, James and John, nor of Andrew and Philip and Bartholomew and Thomas, and another named James, and Thaddeus, and Simon the Canaanite and Judas Iscariot, of whom I have spoken. He, I knew, could not be taught. He was too proud. Last of all was the publican Levi, who was also called Matthew, but since he was not the same Matthew who wrote a gospel, let him remain as Levi.

In choosing these disciples I aroused much dissatisfaction among the Pharisees. When I would eat meat in the house of Levi, many sinners also sat with us, and some were tax collectors. Heavy in their hearts that they worked for the Romans, they were full of shame before their fellow Jews. So they had need of me.

Yet when the scribes and Pharisees saw us eating together, they said: "How can he mingle with these dregs?" I was not eager to increase the absence of good feeling that existed already between these Pharisees of Capernaum and myself, so I answered: "They that are whole have no need of the physician. They that are sick need much. I am not here to call the righteous to repentance but the sinners."

I debated how to tell these Pharisees that sinners, having encountered the Evil Spirit, may even come to feel repugnance for their old appetites, whereas the pious think only of protecting themselves from the temptations of Satan, so they fester within.

Besides, I was happy to eat with sinners. Some of Levi's friends were unwashed (for Levi was loyal to poor friends), yet by coming to know such people, I began to wonder about the godlessness of many who were rich. They did not use their wealth to make others happy, whereas here, at the table of Levi, among these poor sinners, I saw how there might be much petty injury each could do to another, yet there was also much simple pity that they would feel for those beside them. So the faces of the poor at Levi's table had a dignity like the grain of unpolished wood after it has been exposed to the warmth and wrath of sun and rain.

I also knew that such an argument would hardly satisfy the Pharisees. They would say: "The disciples of John the Baptist fasted. Why don't your people do the same?" And so pious were their voices that at night I would brood over those Jews who spoke for my religion and drove away sinners.

But there were many questions for me. Why did I seek out men who would rather eat and drink than pray? Was it that those who boasted of how they were children of Abraham did not believe that more would be demanded of them than good attendance at the synagogue? I would tell myself that a feast was being prepared in heaven where the pious would be cast out. Only the poor and the sinful would be invited to the banquet. And with that I would drink my wine and wonder at how much I drank. In my family, wine had been reserved for solemn occasions. Now we drank at every meal.

These publicans were rarely solemn. Still, I trusted the good spirit between us. It was not a time to fast. There was much to prepare for the Lord. To fast would make us gloomy, and we would become like those who praise God with their words but remain so afraid of other men that they can never praise Him by bold deeds.

Such were my thoughts while drinking wine. I could bring salvation to sinners. But my head whirled with vertigo. There was so little time, and so many obstacles to foresee. What of the pagan who might seek baptism? Would he be ready to cast out his idols? Would his own family then cast him out?

These differences with the Pharisees of Capernaum were made worse when my publicans walked through the fields on the Sabbath and plucked ears of corn. The Pharisees said: "To harvest on this day is not lawful." And when I answered, my voice was in a race with my caution, yet my words gained the victory. I said: "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath."

On the next Sabbath, when I entered the synagogue a laborer was there and he had a withered hand. Many Pharisees, much aroused, watched to see if I would heal him. I could see that they were waiting to accuse me, so I thought to say no to this laborer.

As soon as he spoke, however, I was helpless. He said: "I used to be a stonemason, but then my fingers were smashed. I plead with you, Yeshua, give me back a good hand and then I will not have to beg for my family's food."

I could not refuse. I said to him: "Stand forth."

I asked of the congregation, "Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath?"

No one could answer. They did not have the courage to say "Cure him." The hardness of their hearts (and no heart is so hard as the timid heart) infuriated me. I spoke to the man, saying: "Stretch forth your hand," and when he did, I did not even have to touch it; at once I could see how his hand was restored as whole as the other. Yet I also felt anguish. Most of the Pharisees left in outrage. I had to conclude that a time might come when I would go to war with some of my own people.

Later that night, a Pharisee from the synagogue who knew an officer of Herod Antipas living in Capernaum told Peter that Herod was now considering whether this Yeshua of Nazareth ought to be stilled. I decided that I would do well to look for a cave on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. For Yeshua of Nazareth would not seem the Son of God to the officers of Herod, only a poor Jew.