“They’re going,” I said to Obed, who was standing next to me. He seemed anxious. With his hands, he shaded his eyes.
“Is he going to see us?” I said.
Jesus and his followers were dressed in shabby clothing. What was supposed to be white was dark, and what was supposed to be dark was stained. Faithless women walked among them, and around the women I saw children. People were pushing, shouting, and begging, but Jesus walked past all of them with a soft smile on his lips. He looked tired; his eyes were flickering back and forth. For a moment I thought he winced, which reminded me of Jacob, but then there was nothing there, just that flickering gaze and aquiline nose. As he came closer, I could see the pores in his skin, small, dark scars over his nose and cheeks.
Jesus came, and walked past us.
A sigh went through Obed, Naomi, me, Jacob, indeed through every one of us standing there. Obed’s hands fell down by his sides. Naomi crouched back down again. Jacob stood there with his mouth open, his gaze resting on me. I turned toward Jesus and his followers and called after them: “I’ll give you a talent to heal my son.”
Jesus stopped.
“Come here,” I called, “and you might get even more than that.”
Obed had put his hands on me now, his voice low and nervous, but I pushed him aside. I was about to shout out again and promise even more, but then I saw Jesus walking back toward us. Naomi was still kneeling down, but she was chanting something or other. A soft, wheezing sound rose up from her. Jacob stood next to me.
“Father,” he said, but I hushed him. “Be quiet, boy, he’s coming.”
The crowd parted in front of us, and into this opening stepped Jesus. He looked at me, at Jacob, at my people, who were keeping close to me.
“Who are you?” he asked. Before I could answer, he went on: “What are people like you and your servants doing out here with us?” When he spoke, it was as if he were singing on his own. There was a soft rhythm in the way his words came out. It’s hard to explain, but when I hear Jacob talk now, there’s something similar in his manner of speaking.
“There are always people seeking to test us,” Jesus said. “Are you one of them?” His voice sank with each word, and a short pause crept in before the last word. It was almost as if he were murmuring now.
“I want my son to be healed,” I said. “I have no other wish here today than that, and I was told that you were somebody who could help him. But now you’re leaving too without having done anything. You won’t speak to my son either. I came here in good faith, I’ve been sitting here all day, I’ve been strong in my faith in God, in the Lord, but all I’ve seen is you walking past us when you’re done for the day.”
Some of the others in his retinue began to speak; they scolded me and moaned at me about everything I owned and all that I was asking for, but Jesus raised his hand at them.
“Lord,” said the tallest one, with fiery eyes, “let me speak to this stranger.”
“Not now, Peter,” said Jesus. “We’ll stay here tonight. Maybe we can carry on this discussion later in the evening or tomorrow when day breaks. But now I must rest, I’m tired.”
I wasn’t happy about sleeping out there in the wilds with all those people. I didn’t wish for Jacob and me, or all our group, to be seen together with rebels, with the unclean and others of their sort who were present there. I put my servants on the lookout to guard the food we’d taken with us, and to keep an extra eye open for anybody who came too close.
Darkness had fallen. I wrapped Jacob and myself in a few blankets and asked him to follow me. Our servants followed at a distance. The stars twinkled above us, and I asked Jacob if he could name the ones I pointed at, but he stared at the ground and didn’t say a word.
Through the light of the bonfires around us, I found the way to where Jesus and his retinue were camped out. It seemed as if people had left them in peace for the night. The women and the men sat together, talking quietly with each other. The one they called Peter was sitting with Jesus. It looked as if they were brothers, they were so close and spoke with such familiarity. I couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying, but there was something about the way they looked at each other, the way they each listened when the other spoke. But there was also the other side of brotherhood: competition, fighting, brotherly love under a cover of jealousy.
I don’t know why I think I saw all this. It might be that there was something making me look for rifts and fractures. Jesus was sitting there, only a few yards from us, but he wasn’t doing anything.
Still, the strangest things can happen.
Once, when I was younger, I was digging for water when I found the bones of a gigantic creature. It couldn’t have been anything from this earth. Those huge bones, dirty and white in the soil, frightened me, so I put them all back and covered up the hole in the ground.
Another time, I saw something large, flashing, and bright move across the night sky. It looked like a leviathan with wings, and I fell down on the ground in amazement.
And now, on that strange and fantastical day, I saw my eldest son walk up to Jesus, without saying a word. I didn’t move but let my son go. His feet were so strong, I could see it then. His hips, straight back, and long arms.
Some of the men got up to stop Jacob, but Jesus raised his hand at them and kept his gaze fixed on Jacob. Peter and Jesus spoke, and Peter got up, walked past Jacob, and went to sit with the others.
Jacob stopped in front of Jesus, and I saw his face begin to squirm and wince. His hands clenched and opened again in convulsions. His whole body was twitching and shaking, and I could hear the brief sounds all the way from where I was standing.
I thought then that it was all empty. I thought that Jesus was just another Hananiah, yet another person who could see how afflicted Jacob was but who wasn’t going to lift a finger. It felt as if I was about to collapse. Come night, come darkness, I give up.
But it wasn’t over yet.
Jesus got up. He stood there quietly, listening to Jacob. When Jacob had finished, Jesus laid one of his hands on his chest and the other on top of his head. Instead of speaking, Jesus closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, they both stood there facing each other, motionless. It was a sight that might have made me laugh, or perhaps shake my head, but there and then I almost stopped to hold my breath. That stranger had his hands on my son. Jesus was touching another person, one who was at his weakest, and the way he laid his hands on Jacob, it looked as if he were crowning my son. I have no other words for it: he put a crown on my son’s head. Ever since then, Jacob has never lost his strength or his faith.
Jesus let go of Jacob. He lifted away his hands, and Jacob was left standing alone. He opened his mouth, and even though I still couldn’t hear what was being said, I could see that words were coming out of him. Words that were no longer stuck fast. My son wasn’t wincing or writhing. He stood there calmly, only his mouth moving, and I think I saw him smile.
We left the next morning. I can’t remember much of the trip home. I know that when Jacob had become a man and was independent, he later went back up to Galilee to meet some of the followers who lived in Nazareth. He’s spoken to me of Obed and Naomi, and others I don’t wish to mention here. Once he told me about Sarah, who came to him in a dream.