Eshtine

enjoying the miracle 2

Just another scene, not connected chronologically with the one I put up last week--in fact, if anything, this one takes place before that one.
Thanks to the Twin for the new hardware which makes all of this possible.

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I followed Peter to the back of the boat, where he was passing the idle time by untangling some nets. "No one's told you what he did to the storm?" he asked.
I wasn't sure I heard right. "To the storm?"
"To the storm. We were in my father's boat, and a windstorm blew up suddenly. I thought we would die. I hadn't caulked the boat in a while, the waves were breaking off bits, and such waves were hitting us that every man aboard had to bail water. Somebody finally noticed Jesus wasn't on deck. Can you believe--he was sleeping below! I was terrifically mad. I yelled, 'We're all going to die, Rabbi. Do you care?' down the hatch. He came up the ladder, looked out over the sea, and shouted 'Quiet!'--the way you might rebuke a child."
"He yelled at the sea to behave?" I asked.
Peter nodded with a grim expression. He lowered his voice, speaking as if he would rather not finish the story. "And the wind stopped. Died down to nothing--not even a breeze in the sails."
I stared at him. Peter laughed, but the laugh was hollow. "That expression on your face is what all of us were wearing, looking at Jesus. No one said a word. Jesus turned from the sea, looked back at us, and said, 'What's wrong?'"
I opened my mouth, but nothing could come out. "Coincidence," I finally said. "It had to be. No man can order the sea around and have it obey him."
"That's what Thaddeus said. Andrew and I just turned to each other and spoke in unison, 'Who is this in the boat with us!?' And some who had been very faithful to Jesus snuck away after that. I heard one man say, 'I don't want to be in the company of a man who can order the wind and sea around. Think of what could happen if he gets angry at us! Best to leave now, before we find out.'"
Peter grew quiet. He looked back over his shoulder at the wake we left in the water. "I don't think it was coincidence," he said after a time, "but I wish I could think it was. I'm very scared. Over the last few months I've seen some incredible things, but--to command the sea. My whole life has been the sea. I know it so well. And for him to..."
"God in heaven, would you look at this."
I turned around. Mary was closer to the middle of the boat, pointing toward the shore. "I thought you said nobody lived near here."
"Nobody does!" Peter said, running to the prow. "Somebody found out where we were headed and told all his friends!"
Whoever it was must have had about five thousand friends. The shore was overrun by people, pointing at our boat, shouting, shoving at each other apparently to secure better positions. More were arriving as we watched.
"This is what's so frustrating--wherever Jesus goes, he's surrounded by mobs. It's easy to talk with a few people at a time, but a crowd like this--you don't know what they will do. They can turn violent extremely quickly."
"Shall we turn back?"
"There'd be no point. Every other place where it's safe to land is much closer to the big towns. As soon as we hit the shore there'd be as big a crowd there. Perhaps we can just tell them to leave. Jesus didn't come here to preach or heal--they might as well go home."
We landed, and Jesus climbed out from belowdecks. His face fell when he saw the crowd. Peter sidled up to him and, though I couldn't hear, I guessed he was telling Jesus his plan to disperse the people. Jesus let his gaze travel across the crowd slowly, as though trying to see every face. He let out a resigned sigh. "How could I do that, Peter? If they've taken the trouble to come to me, I can't just tell them to leave."
So we disembarked. Jesus was mobbed at once, but he managed to push through and find a rocky ledge. There he sat and talked so long he nearly went hoarse. The sun came close to setting and Peter got fidgety again. He interrupted Jesus at last. "Master, it's late. There aren't any shops around here. Let's let these good people go back to the towns to get something to eat." I was glad he said it--my stomach was rumbling too. Some people at the back of the crowd took that as their invitation and left, but most waited to see what Jesus would say.
He had a mischievous glint in his eye. "No," he called back down to Peter. "I think I'll put you in charge of feeding them."
"What?!" The whole crowd laughed as the two men argued, the fisherman waving a sack with the only food we had--some bread and leftover cooked fish. When everyone had quieted down, including Peter, Jesus said, "I grew up in a wonderful family--my father, my mother, lots of cousins and aunts and uncles."
Mary and I exchanged puzzled glances, as did almost everyone.
"I remember the meals I had back then, particularly at festival times--everyone eating together and laughing, telling old jokes to the youngest cousins, enjoying everyone's company. I'd never want it to end. Have you ever had meals like that? Where there were lots of people around, maybe not your family, but friends, people you loved and were delighted to be with."
Almost everyone was smiling now. Some had tears in their eyes. A few people were smiling and crying at once, as I was, which was strange because I'm not usually sentimental.
"I think the kingdom of God must be like that," Jesus said. "A party where everyone respects you so much you can be yourself. Where there's nothing you could do or say that couldn't be forgiven..." His voice was almost too soft to hear. Then he yelled, "SHALL WE HAVE A PARTY?" and first we jumped, and then we laughed and cheered. "YES!"
"All right!" he answered, gesturing and pacing on his ledge. "Group yourselves together, now, in big groups. We're all friends! Invite your neighbors!" He waved at Mary and Peter and Andrew and the rest of us. At his signal we moved through the crowd getting everyone to sit in clutches of fifty or so. "We have about a hundred groups of fifty," Mary told me.
"A good strategy," I remarked. "That seems more manageable than a mob of five thousand."
"We're not here to manage them," John said, frowning.
At last everyone was sorted. Jesus hopped from the ledge and relieved Peter of the sack of bread and fish, brandishing it in the air like a war prize. We laughed and cheered some more. Then he picked his way to the group sitting in the very center of the gathering. He shook a few hands before straightening up and addressing all assembled:
"At my house, we said a blessing at every meal. We never forgot how God has blessed us by giving us a fertile land and seas teeming with fish. The abundance we have and share, we owe to Him." He took one of the loaves from the sack. He bowed his head--we all did likewise--and whispered a prayer as he broke it. I came in closer because he was getting hard to see in the dusk. I watched him pass hunks of bread round, saying, "Don't judge this party on the food, but on the company." He saw me coming nearer and handed me one of the fish. "Can you divide this up and give pieces to people in other groups? Start at the back." Strange--I didn't feel embarrassed about offering such meager provisions. No--it felt good to give away all I had. I even remembered I had some dried figs in my satchel, and gave those out when I'd run out of fish pieces. An old man offered me a little oatcake in return, which I accepted. Mary and John and the rest were moving through the crowd with the rest of the loaves and fish. When these were exhausted they still went from this group to the next, exchanging other morsels. No one ate any of their own food, and no one went hungry. Everyone was talking and laughing and telling silly jokes.
Full night was on us when Jesus stood up. "Thank you for a wonderful party," he said, and the crowd roared its gratitude back. "Now for the cleanup. We should give what we couldn't eat to the poor of the neighboring villages. Does anyone have any baskets for the leftovers?"
Some baskets were waved. Those of us who had come in the boat were again drafted to walk among the groups collecting any extra food. We filled twelve wicker baskets.
Much later I met a man who, when he found out I had spent some time with Jesus, asked me, "Did he really feed five thousand men with five loaves and two fish?"
"Yes," I said. "He really did."
"Scripture says Elisha fed one hundred men with twenty barley loaves made from the first fruits, and fresh grain in the ear. Are you saying Jesus worked a greater miracle than Elisha?"
"I don't know who worked the greater miracle," I answered, "but perhaps I know now how Elisha did it."
"What do you mean, 'How Elisha did it'?" the man exclaimed. "Elisha performed that miracle through the grace of God!"
"And so did Jesus," I said.
People came to think Jesus multiplied the loaves and fish into food enough for an army. Perhaps he worked that miracle alongside the one I saw; I wasn't watching that closely. But I think I saw that night a greater miracle--a man moving the human heart to goodness.