Fifth Gospel (17 page)

FISH AND FISHERMEN

S
imon
was
a fisherman and he lived in a city on the ancient trade route called the Via Maris. Here, on the northwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee stood a city called Beth-saida, meaning
House of the Fishes.
It was so called because seven springs flowed into the waters of Galilee at this point, attracting fish and creating a lucrative trade for those who did not mind hard work.

The Sea of Galilee was little affected by tide
, so its waters were profoundly clear and for this reason the best fishing was not conducted in the day, but after sunset.

Each night Simon and his brother
Andrew would rise from their beds, take a meal, and walk the dark path from their modest home near the eucalyptus forest to the shores of the inland sea where waited those who worked with them in the cooperative: Philip, and Zebedee and his two sons, James and John.

In conditions favourable or unfavourable
the fishermen would set off on their boats, travelling by the light of flares made from oily rags which were kept in iron cages suspended from their bows. They journeyed forth into the sea’s wide expanse with the air in their lateen sails, heading for the deeps and the best catch. Here the weighted trammel nets were thrown between the boats to encircle the fish. A great number of fish of every size and quality could be ensnared this way and when the nets were full the men would drag them to the shore and pull them onto the sand to sort the clean fish from those that were deemed unclean.

Backwards and forwards from
the sea to the shore the boats came and went through the night until the full-bodied baskets were brimming with fresh catch and the sun’s pink herald stained the margins of the mountains.

At sunrise came the t
ownsfolk and merchants to buy fish. When all was sold and the crowds were gone, the daily work truly began for the men had many tasks yet: picking off the weed and dead creatures of the sea that had become entangled in the nets, repairing any tears, sorting the hooks and lines, liming the hulls of the boats and mending the sails.

These
moments made ample time for conversation and companionship and the men spoke as they worked.

Simon was slow to speak, but in his mind he thought much. While the others
talked he listened to their words and thought his own thoughts, for when they spoke of fish, and sky, and lake, they spoke as any man might. But Simon saw other things.

He saw
the interplay of the sun’s gold-shimmer with the lake’s smooth surface; he saw the dance of the dark water with the moon’s lustre and the interaction of mountain and plain, lightning and earth. He saw the sea transform itself before his eyes into a celestial womb that was fertilised by the light of the sun. For what is a fish if not a drop of sun gleaming beneath the surface of the water? And what is a man, if not a drop of the eternal, a collection of sunbeams gathered up and born into the passing moment of life’s stream?

These, he knew, were st
range thoughts and philosophies and so he did not speak them out loud but only thought them and he was thinking them this day as he knotted a rope, when James tore him from his ruminations.

‘In the market this morning the people spoke of the pascha and their journey to Judea
with such excitement,’ he said, ‘I wish that I could go!’

Andrew, Simon’s brother
, looked up from his work and said, ‘Don’t waste your wishes! They say the airs of Judea are full of death and that the rocks have a magic in them that can send a man mad.’

Of all the men gathered together on the sandy beach
, Philip was the only one to have been to Jerusalem and he raised his dark head from his work with an air of wisdom. ‘Nonsense! I have been there, and I am not dead or mad! But it is true, the land is like stale bread gone hard…the people are hard also…and when the rabbis speak, their voices are like a cold wind.’

‘How do they speak?’ said young John
, leaving his liming to listen.

‘With words like pointed arrows that pierce the head!’
Philip said sourly.

‘
Ah, but your head is soft, Philip!’ Andrew said, merrily. ‘It wouldn’t take much to pierce it!’

All around there
were smiles and soft chuckles.

James did not laugh or smile
. He seemed despondent for it, and spoke almost to himself, ‘We should not speak disapprovingly of the priests!’ He cut a length of rope with his teeth. ‘They are closer to heaven you know…closer at least than we are, it stands to reason that we don’t understand them.’

Andrew cocked his head to one side. He had not heard well in one ear from childhood, having sustained a beating from his father for his impertinence
. Now he shook his head and said to his brother, ‘What did he say?’

Simon
, whose task was to always repeat everything, sighed with impatience. ‘He says we should mind the priests, for they are closer to God.’

Andrew nodded gravely. ‘And James is right, they are closer to heaven…but only because you a
re too down to earth, Philip!’

T
hey laughed like anything.

Little John of Zebedee
said, between giggles, ‘And you…are down to earth…because you are so short!’

Philip
was put out. Feeling himself abused he continued his work of liming the hull of the boat in a bruised silence.

‘Still,’ Andrew
put in, ‘when the rabbi at our synagogue speaks, and his cold words gush out about the Messiah, my eyes almost see his words as fish, dropping from his lips!’

More laughs made Simon, who had listened to all of it, scratch at his greying beard. He decided to add wisdom to this foolishness
.

‘
It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that when the Messiah comes he won’t pass his days in Jerusalem among the proud priests and the law abiding Pharisees…he won’t answer to the rabbis, even in our synagogues. Perhaps he will come to sit here among us, where the sun marries the lake!’ He looked about him, at the incredulous faces. ‘Why not, you fools? Why would he not come to speak to those of ordinary expression and vocation, who are more likely to hear him and to love him?’

James
threw him a sceptical eye. ‘What? You think he’ll come to stinking fishermen, to spend his time among fish guts and scales and turn away a life among the rich, with fine wines and good food?’ He shook his head. ‘Your head has seen too much sun, Simon! No…it is my guess, he shall do as all kings do!’

Simon tilted his head up
, until it seemed as if his beard would near touch the sky. ‘Who can tell?’ he said, ‘Why should he be a king? Are we not told to expect a king and a priest, like two fish that move in different directions? One swims upwards, like this, to the heavens, while the other swims downwards, like this, to the earth? Don’t we have two eyes, two ears, two arms and two legs? With only one of each we should not see our fish, or make many steps on the ground, or steady ourselves on our boats or pull up our nets!’

Philip
nodded, considering. ‘Think of it James! You are elevated to spiritual thoughts, when you are in the synagogue on the Sabbath, but the next day your mind turns only upon how much money you can make for your old father! You are also two men!’

These words made them all laugh again, even James, who recognised their truth.

Simon was made full of confidence by this support. ‘We are like fish ourselves! But we are also fishermen! Why should the Messiah not be like a fish, and also a fisherman?’ he ended with a slap on the knee, pleased with himself.

All could
see that this was a fine comparison.

James sat forward
, with a certain fear in his eye. ‘Lads! Lower your voices! What if this is blasphemy, to speak of fish and men?’

Simon dismissed it with a hand. ‘Glory be to God, James! Do the prophets not always speak of fish
, and draw a line from them to men? Ezra and Habakkuk speak of fish, no one accuses the prophets of blasphemy!’ he said loudly, having lost his temper with himself for speaking out his philosophy and inviting ridicule. He put his head down and continued with knotting his rope, now in a dark mood.

Philip
, having recovered from laughter, said to him, ‘Oh Simon, son of Jonah! One would think your father, was that same prophet who was spat out by a whale! You think too much of fish! And you think too much of fishermen!’

‘The Essenes spare fish,’ young John
put in, ‘for they revere them.’

‘What did he say?’ Andrew asked.

‘He said the Essenes don’t eat fish!’ Simon answered.

Andrew nodded, ‘
Yes, the boy is right, they don’t, and it’s a good thing there aren’t many of them, or else we would have no trade.’

Philip
was not listening. His hand was raised high in the air, while the rest of him was stock-still. ‘Wait!’ he said, ‘I remember something…a short time ago I overheard a customer speak of a man who is not an Essene but who speaks with their words. He baptises in the Jordan for the remission of sins. I remember it only now!’ He looked at them with wide eyes. ‘This man says that because fish do not breathe air they are pure. He says that men must change their breathing, they must repent their sins and become like fish. And they must rise up out of the water and ready their hearts for the coming of the Messiah!’

The
men traded astonished looks, and it seemed to Simon that their eyes were shaking off a sluggish indolence.

‘There, you see?’ Simon said,
vindicated. He put down his rope and stood. ‘What’s his name?’

‘John the Baptiser,’
Philip told him.

Simon nodded. ‘John the Baptiser
,’ he said, rubbing his speckled beard, ‘
John the Baptiser
!’ he said it again, as if contriving to make that name fit a shape held in his mind. ‘This is a sign!’ he said finally. ‘We must go and hear this man speak, this John the Baptiser, for it seems that he speaks true.’

Young John paused his liming. ‘I will come!’

Andrew frowned his annoyance at the boy, ‘That is because you do not like liming boats, that you will go!’

John smiled
in answer.

‘But what of your precious fish, Simon?’ James said, half in jest and half in seriousness. ‘Will we leave them uncaught in the sea? What of my father’s livelihood?’

‘Yes…old Zebedee will curse us! After all, who will take care of the nets and the boats?’ Philip added.

‘What of the customers and the merchants that come from
every place?’ Andrew threw in.

Simon paused to look out at the sea’s glimmer skipping over the calm lapping of the waves and made his resolve.

‘These things shall take care of themselves.’

‘But
shall we leave our homes, our wives and families and the sea, to become homeless men?’ James said to him. ‘Well, for my part, I say this will come to no good!’

‘Why should we not become homeless men for a time
, James? Look at us, we do this stinking work, day in and day out, is there not more to be known in the world, than the beauty of this sea and the smell of fish? Are we always to remain like children who are three years old and lulled by a song?’

Philip
thought this through. ‘For my part lads, I have always been of the mind to trust Simon. He has a good sense for things, but this…I don’t know. This is something new.’

Andrew made a sigh. ‘We have always listened to your good counsel, Simon.’

‘Yes,’ added young John, ‘he always knows where to cast the nets, so that we do not go hungry like other fishermen.’

James looked around him, incredulous. ‘And all of you suppose that we should go then and leave everything behind?’

The men looked at one another, as if contemplating a lunacy that confounded human explanation, and yet a lunacy full of logic to their minds.

James nodded then
smiled and rubbed his beard. ‘Well, I am outnumbered it seems, perhaps all will be well for a day or two.’

The five men now looked to Simon.

Simon nodded. ‘We go then.’

And they resolved to make their preparations.

THE ISRAELITE

A
t
the same moment that Simon in Galilee was making his resolve to go in search of John the Baptist, in Jerusalem, a Pharisee called Nicodemus, sat in the judgement hall of the Temple among those who were gathered to judge the Baptiser.

While
the priests of the Sanhedrin conducted the various opening formulas, Nicodemus looked about the vast hall.

It
was made in a long rectangle created out of great slabs of stone, with round stone pillars supporting a lofty ceiling. In between these pillars, upon stone benches, were seated the Levites, scribes and shorthand note takers. At the front of the great hall upon a dais sat a semi circle of judges. They faced the middle of the hall and the laity, which on this day could not be contained and was spilling out of the oaken doors to the terrace beyond.

The Great Sanhedrin was
indeed the highest tribunal of the land and was made up of seventy-one members. Nicodemus had always felt very fortunate to be counted among them and to be called an Israelite, a representative of Israel. In truth, every Jew was united by a common memory through the blood of Abraham. In this blood was imprinted all the abilities and disabilities of their people all the laws and transgressions, even the air, the sky, and the soil of the Promised Land! Because of this, all Jews could say ‘we’.

But an Israelite could do more. His blood
was like an open book, in which the archangels glanced to make their decisions about the future of the people. For this reason, an Israelite considered himself not only one with those of the blood of Abraham, but also, and more importantly, one with the God of Abraham himself.

A voice tore him away from his thoughts
now, and he realised how long he had been daydreaming. In the centre of the hall one of Herod’s captains, not long returned from troubles in Dothain, was recounting something about John the Baptist.

‘He tells the people to repent,
to change their hearts, for The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. He tells them this, but then the people do not suffer the heathens that dwell among them and they burn their idols and cause havoc and this has made the prince of Sidon send his armies to protect the idolaters from John’s disciples.’

Nicodemus
looked to Caiaphas the High Priest. He was a Sadducee and naturally corrupt, a weak-willed man who leant on his father-in-law, Ananias, like a dizzy man holds to a wall. He was short and squat, and sat ensnared among vestments glistening with gold thread and studded with gemstones. He stared out from a face full of creases gathered together around a moist nose and two bead-shaped eyes. Upon his head a mitre of great proportions hid the source of thick braids that fell on either side, and met in a neatly oiled beard. Caiaphas stroked this beard fondly with one hand, while the other held a crosier, which every now and again he used to scratch his back.

‘But how many followers could this man have?’ Caiaphas asked his captain.

The man
answered, ‘There are thousands and thousands…’

The hall buzzed with conversation and the shaking of mitred heads.

Herod Antipas, sitting on Caiaphas’s other side, nodded in agreement. ‘We have just returned from Callirrhoe, where I was forced to send my troops to quell the disorder.’

There was a
nother swell of whisperings among the judges and those on the flanking benches.

The soldier spoke directly to Caiaphas,
‘We come to ask if we should be baptised by this man, so that the people may take notice of us, and do as we say.’

Herod made a smile
. ‘I have already told my men that I see no need for baptism! Particularly since this John the Baptist is an impostor. I met him myself at Ainon! He does not produce miracles nor does he work wonders. He is a hands-breath from being an animal from what I could see for he wears a camel garment that barely covers him and his hair is unkempt and his beard is a tempest of knots! The only thing we can account for is his cleanliness, for he is in the river all day long!’

A round of
restrained laughter echoed in the hall.

Nicodemus did not laugh
. He looked about and saw that his friends and fellow members of the Sanhedrin, Joseph of Arimathea and Gamaliel, were also serious.

Herod
said, ‘He tells all who will hear him that the blood of Abraham is polluted, and must be cleansed!’

There was a
chorus of gasps.

Satisfied,
he continued, ‘He teaches that priests and Levites are further from God than even a Samaritan!’

A
confusion of voices and exclamations broke out, but in the great space where stood the laity there was quiet.

The captain spoke
now through this marriage of silence and sound, ‘John the Baptiser was meaning that the goodness of a man does not rely on his station or on his birth, but on his own efforts! That any man can change his heart and see the Messiah!’

But derision and mockery drowned out his words. The judges called out, ‘Blasphemy! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!’

Herod widened his smile from ear to ear. ‘This John the Baptist, also says that he is the forerunner of the Kingdom of God, that he is the forerunner of the Son of Man!’

A
quiet descended at the sound of those words. Nicodemus knew why. The Kingdom of God was something that was awaited with fear. The Pharisees feared the Messiah, for they saw him as a priest destined to usher in the end of days and bring about the destruction of the world. Conversely the Sadducees saw him as a mighty king who was set to take over the Sanhedrin and strip them of their power.

To Nicodemus
they were both in error. He believed the Son of Man did not have the task of ushering in the judgement of God, nor would his kingdom come to change the world. It would come to change the soul of a man, so that he could judge for himself. For this reason the Baptiser’s words now rang true in his ears.

His friend
’s voice interrupted his thoughts. The usually shy and prudent Joseph of Arimathea was standing among his peers and speaking. Nicodemus sat forward to look at him.

‘I have heard that this man has come from the wilderness of Judea like Elijah once came from the wilds of Gilead
, and that he bears the same appearance and speaks a similar prophetic message! Should we not hear him before we condemn him?’

‘Our
colleague is correct…’ Caiaphas said then. ‘We must send a deputation to find out who this man is, and what is his aim; a deputation of priests and Levites will bring back their findings to this court which will decide on a judgement.’

‘Splendid!’ Herod said
brightly. ‘I will offer the delegation the convenience and protection of my own personal guard. My own captain shall guide them.’

Nicodemus
was suddenly filled with enthusiasm. Perhaps this man John the Baptist, was a true prophet? If so the Son of Man was near at hand! Could he do less than find out for himself? He stood and all eyes turned to him.

‘I too, will go!’
he said.