Chapter 18

Again the rains came on, earlier than usual this time but gentle and intermittent, in comforting contrast to the relentless ferocity of last winter’s storms.

Sometimes there would be two or three consecutive days without showers, though the sky remained obdurately overcast and nobody ventured very far from home unless his errand was urgent.

Jesus seemed glad to retire to Andrew’s cosy cottage in Capernaum and the old house resumed its service as headquarters for most of the devoted band that had left everything to follow their Master.

Of the absentees, Judas had returned to Kerioth to look after some neglected business; Philip had gone home to Cana to visit his aged mother; Thomas, lacking a lodging-place, had accepted a job carding flax for Jairus; and Thaddeus, unhappy over the deterioration of the fishing fleet, was living alone on The Abigail, diligently caulking the deck-seams with pledgets of pitch and oakum.

The others, unemployed and restless, showed up every day at the cottage and watched the Carpenter at his work; for the decrepit tools belonging to Ebenezer, who had passed away in the summer, had been reborrowed and the improvised shop had all the business it could handle, though little of it was of any profit. Much discussion was had among them concerning tentative itineraries for the coming spring: some were for going back to Hammath or Cana, and some thought they should revisit Jericho. Jesus was given every encouragement to express an opinion but he only shook his head and murmured, ‘Not now’—an enigmatic response that sobered them. It seemed clear that he had already determined what he would do. The fact that he was reluctant to confide caused them much anxiety. There was no telling what hazards might be in store for them all… Following Jesus was not easy.

One morning, when a yellowish sun was feebly attempting to shine through the ragged rents in a grey cloud-bank, John ventured the remark that a great many idle people might be willing to risk a wetting if it were announced that the Master would appear in the plaza and speak to them, but the suggestion was not approved. Noting his young friend’s disappointment, Jesus explained briefly that he didn’t care to be responsible for an epidemic of bad colds.

When, that afternoon, John reported this conversation to Bartholomew, adding, ‘But he could easily cure their colds,’ the old man said, ‘It would be much easier to prevent them.’ And then he went on to say, ‘These miracles of healing, son, make a heavy drain on his strength. Had you not noticed that?’

‘I know,’ nodded John. ‘That’s true. They make him sweat.’

Bartholomew sat thoughtfully stroking his beard for a long moment: then he said, ‘Johnny—sometimes I have felt that every burden he lifts is taken upon himself. Don’t misunderstand me: I do not mean that when he heals a leper he takes on the man’s leprosy: I mean that whenever he lifts another man’s burden he adds the weight of it to his own. Out Master is carrying a very heavy load…I often think of Esaias’ prophecy that the promised Messiah would be a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.’