Jesus – Reluctant God
An Imagination.
1. The Boy speaks. Nazareth. Daytime.
I hate them. The other kids. They are cruel and unfair. They re always teasing
me. Because I won’t fight. Because I am different. They whisper mean things
behind my back. But I still hear. They say dad is not my father. They call my
mother a whore. I want to hit them but I don’t. I spit at them and then they
hit me. I come home and my tunic, my only tunic, is all torn. Mother scolds me.
She wants to know why we fought but I don’t tell her.
I hate my life. It’s so hard. It’s boiling hot during the day, freezing at
night. All around us people are poor. Dirt poor. And sick. Many of them are
sick. I feel like crying when I see them. Some people say they are possessed by
an evil spirit when they break out in fever. But I know it’s a mosquito that
bit them.
My dad makes me learn his trade. Making furniture for other people. Our own
house does not have much furniture. I follow him around, from house to house,
and we build tables and wardrobes and chairs there and then. It’s dirty work.
I often get splinters in my hands.
And I often have to think about what they other boys say. That dad is not my
father. If it’s not him, who is it?
2. The Man speaks. Nazareth. Nighttime. January 28AD.
My cousins say I am crazy. Irresponsible. Running away like that. They say,
since dad died, I am responsible for mother. I know. I am. I will always take
care of her. But I have to go.
There is this longing in my heart. About God. All the stories I heard from my
parents. How angels spoke to them about me. I have never seen an angel. They say
I am special. I don’t want to he different. I want to be like everybody else.
But I can feel that I am not. Deep inside there is this … this … voice. I
want to learn about God. Sometimes, at night, I pray to him, talk to him and I
think – I think – I hear a small voice in my mind answering me.
The village is abuzz with news from Jerico. There is a prophet baptizing people
by the Jordan river. He says he is the voice that cries in the wilderness. As
the prophet Isiah said! He says God sent him to tell people to repent! Repent,
repent, the kingdom of God is close at hand! I want to go and see him! People
say he will set us free! Perhaps I can follow him!
Mother, and my cousins James, Joseph, Simon and Jude, say I am crazy to go. But
I must! Must see for myself!
It will be a long walk – through the wilderness of Judea, nothing can survive
there, not even animals, to Jerico. I can picture seeing the crowds by the
Jordan river, hundreds of people! I have to leave tonight!
3. The man speaks. The River Jordan. Morning. February 28AD
Can you hear that? It’s my heart - is still beating so fast.
At one stage I thought I would faint.
Everything was as I imagined it to be – and different. It was a long hard
walk to get here, and I was lucky to rest with some relatives along the way.
Finally, from Jerico, I saw the crowds by the river, and they were hundreds and
hundreds of people. I rushed down and joined the queue. There was some jostling
and bumping, and somehow – I don’t know how – all of a sudden I found
myself near the beginning of the queue, close to John. He looked scary – a
long beard and burning eyes. He baptized people quickly, shouting Repent!
Repent!, passed them on to his helpers. Then it was my turn. All of a sudden, he
stopped. Looked at me. When he pushed me under the water, all sound, all sight
disappeared. It was like time stood still. And there was that small voice in my
head again: You are my son.
Then I was pulled up again, I took a deep breath and was passed on to John’s
helpers.
Was that God’s voice? I am his son? He is my father? What does it mean? What
is his plan for me?
I need to learn. I will stay with John and listen to what he says.
I am confused. I feel that John is a man of God, but his message is so …
harsh. The way he portrays God is so cruel, like a stern father. Just like the
Sadducees and Pharisees in Jerusalem see him. That’s not the God that I know.
I know God is kind and loving. Where is the love?
So I left. For a while. I went to the hills close to the river, then on to the
desert. Alone. To think. And pray. And find out more about what God wants from
me. I prayed a lot, and in my meditation and prayer I moved closer to
understanding God. I even started to calling him father.
I was thinking about his love and what kind of people he reaches out to, or I
should reach out to. I was thinking, it’s not the rich and mighty and powerful
that are blessed. Instead,
Blessed are the poor in spirit – theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are
those who mourn – they will be comforted.
I met some religious people who had a monastery nearby, in Qumran. They said
they had heard about me – how? – and asked me to join them. To be their
leader, even. To set the people free. You can be king they said. Have
everything.
No no no no – they don’t understand. That’s not what it’s about.
God’s kingdom is not of this world. I am not here to fight. I am here to love.
So I told them no.
4. The Man speaks. Galilee. Evening. Autumn 30 AD
I can’t stop my tears. I just heard the news: They have arrested and killed
John the Baptist! I was in the temple of Jerusalem when they told me.
“Flee!”, they said! Next they will come after you!
I had returned to him after 40 days in the desert, and one night he pointed me
out to some fellow Galileans: This is the Lamb of God. They stayed with me –
they even call me Messiah. But they don’t understand. To them, Messiah is the
future king, who will set them free, right here. Can I teach them over time to
understand me better?
We left and went to Lake Galilee where more friends joined our group.
Then back to Nazareth – I had been dreading our return, but my mum welcomed
me with open arms like the son who went away and returned. Just my cousins were
grumbling something about ‘Not Fair.’
After hearing the news of John, we fled Jerusalem, back to Galilee via Jericho,
through Samaria. The Samarians hate the Jews, so the Sanhedrin’s spies have a
hard time following us there.
5. The Man speaks. Lake Galilee. Daytime.
Ever since John was killed, things have got worse. The crowds are getting
bigger and bigger everywhere I go. I cannot escape the shouts of “Messiah!”,
“Messiah!”. They are expecting me now to lead their revolution. “Be our
leader!” they shout.
And I am – well, I am confused. And tempted. And upset.
I know that this is not my way. I know that God wants me to share his love, to
comfort the downtrodden, to make people understand.
So when they shout and smile and try to touch me and follow me everywhere I go
– it’s nice, yes, but it’s wrong.
They don’t understand. They will be very very disappointed. I will have to
disappoint them. I’d hate to. But there is no other way.
I try. I teach. I go from village to village, and everywhere there is a crowd.
I talk about the new face of God, the Good News, the Gospel. I invite especially
those that have hard work, whose load is heavy – I want to give them relief.
And it’s the simple people that flock to me, in every synagogue in every
village, the fishermen, the carpenters. They look at me with burning eyes, they
listen to my every word – and still they don’t understand. It breaks my
heart.
6. The man speaks. A hill near lake Galilee. Time of Passover.
This time, the crowd is too big for the village. Probably because of Passover.
Passover makes people crazy. Israel, Israel! they shout! Remember the Passover!
How we were spared in Egypt! How our firstborns lived!
So we climb a small hill, and the crowd follows us. As I rest, they remain
restless. Messiah! King! Be our leader! We’ll follow you! We’ll die for you!
For our Nation!
They do not understand. It is time to put things right. My heart is beating
very fast as I stand up and start to speak, thoughts that have formed in my mind
for some time:
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
There was silence. The crowd was stunned. “Nooooooo!” somebody shouted.
“Nooooooo!”
“Love our enemies? Forgive?” “Noooooooo!”
I could feel the mood turn. The same people who just a minute ago had cheered
me were now jeering me. Calling me names. “Weakling!” “Washout!”.
Cursing me. It hurt. I did not want to disappoint them. But I am here to tell
the truth. Even if they don’t like it.
So they left. Hundreds and hundreds turned their backs on me and walked down
the mountain. It broke my heart. Have I lost them forever? Is this what you
want, father?
7. The Man speaks. Capernaum. Chorazin. Bethsaida.
They hate me now. There is no more welcome when we enter a village. People look
away. Some call me names. “Traitor!” “Quitter!”
Father. They are leaving me.
Some disciples have left too. So I asked they remaining ones: Do you also want
to leave me?
I feel so lonely. I feel like there is nobody who understands me, and Father,
you are so far. Why do I have to go through this?
But I soldier on. There is not much time left. I have to prepare for the worst,
for the time after.
So I am sending them away. I picked 12, the best ones, and sent them away to
preach. To teach. To spread the gospel. As training for them, and to reach
people outside of our Galilee.
Why, Lord, why? They ask me. We want to stay with you. Because, I say, the son
of man is going the way appointed for him in the scriptures. The look at me
blank. They don’t understand.
8. The Man speaks. By the Jordan river. Close to Passover. One year after the
mount.
We are reunited. The 12 have returned, and I am happy to have them back. I
listen to the many stories they have of their travels and preachings – some
funny, some sad, often dangerous.
The crowds have returned too. Maybe we are back at the Jordan River – this is
a special place, and they will forever remember John the Baptist here. I
remember him, too. I miss him.
And again it’s close to Passover. It’s like last year never happened.
Nobody seems to remember what I told them at the mount. About forgiveness.
Gentleness. Love.
They shout: Messiah Messiah!
And when I say I will go to Jerusalem, they think: This is the time! The
revolution is about to begin!
They could not be more wrong.
9. The Man Speaks. Jerusalem. Monday - 4 days before Passover.
It is scary to come back to the holy city. We spent the night just outside, in
Bethany, in Simon’s house. The crowd grew ever larger as we approached
Jerusalem – most rested outside, some even squeezed into the house with us, to
escape the night’s cold.
In the morning, we walked the half hour to the city, across the Mount of
Olives. I grew nervous as we approached the temple, shuffling our way through
the masses of pilgrims, many pulling or carrying a lamb ready for the slaughter.
And despite being surrounded by a crowd, ‘my’ crowd, for the wrong reasons,
I felt lonely. At least the crowd will prevent the Sanhedrin from arresting me.
10. The Man Speaks. Jerusalem. Thursday, the 14th of Nisan. The eve of
Passover.
It is time. Time to say good-bye and have a last meal. It was supposed to be
with my closest followers only, but the crowds are pushing in, sitting on the
floor besides our table, standing by the wall. They are waiting. For the
battlecry, for the signal that the time has come. The time has indeed come, but
not the way they think and hope. Again, I will have to disappoint them – them
and all of their MESSIAH shouting. Even my disciples are getting infected by the
crowds enthusiasm and start fighting for rank – but rank does not matter in my
kingdom.
I break the bread and we share the wine – I want to give them a sign, a
symbol, to help them understand that even though I will die – will I have to
die? – I will stay with them forever. I share the message of love. And about
my kingdom, God’s kingdom. It is not of this world.
Judas stands up, toppling his chair. “Nooooo!” he shouts!
“Nooooo!” echoes the crowd. And they leave, infuriated, disappointed.
Again.
11. The Man speaks. Gethsemane, on the Mount of Olives. Night.
Father. I can feel it. The time is almost here. I am afraid father. I can
already feel the suffering, taste the pain that is waiting for me? Do I have to
go through with this? Is there any other way? I am so afraid to die. I want to
live. Stay with my friends. See mother again. Maybe, just maybe, if I travel
more, teach more, preach more, people will understand.
Father? Is this the only way? Can you remove this cup of suffering that is
waiting for me?
I feel so alone. My disciples – sleeping. And later, when they will come to
arrest me, most of them will run away. Hide. Afraid for their own lives. Ready
to disown me. It’s ok. I understand. They are only human.
12. The Man speaks. Golgatha, outside Jerusalem. Afternoon.
Too much. It’s too much to bear. The pain. The humiliation. Carrying my cross
through the arrow street. People spitting at me. Falling down, getting up
again. Then, at Golgatha, being nailed to the cross. Feeling powerless. Hanging
there, for all to look at. Humiliated.
Father? Where are you?
Three hours. Three hours of dying, of pain, of tears. Where are my disciples?
They are not here.
I feel so lonely.
At least the women are here. Always the faithful women. I can roughly see them
through the blood that blinds my eye. They are crying. Praying. I need to
reassure them. Need to tell them this is MEANT TO BE. I can hardly talk. I try.
Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani? My God my God why have you forsaken me?
Psalm 22. They know. They will understand. They will complete the psalm in
their minds:
"I will tell of your name.
In the midst of the congregation I will praise you."
"Into your hands, father, I commit my spirit."
Hopefully they will understand. It is all I can do, whisper the beginnings to
these two psalms.
My last thought is: It is finished.
13. The Risen Christ speaks. Everywhere. Present day.
Actually - no. With my very last thought, just before everything turned black,
I thought of you.
You, my friend, my follower, my disciple, my percecuter, my disowner, my
doubter – you.
I know you. I have always known you.
I know you are weak. Lonely. Desperate. I was that, too.
I know you have doubts. I had doubts, too.
But I am with you now. With you forever.
My love, God’s love will carry you and set you free.
You will never again be alone.
I love you.
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(partly inspired by “A life of Jesus” by Shusaku Endo)
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