Title:

… and sit a while with me …

Author:

Mrs. Trabi

Timeframe:

1944 and 29 A.C.

Summary:

AU/Realization can be a hard thing and when it hits Hereweald Hrothgar, he's not too happy about it. Through an accident, he and his student, Jamie Novak, fall back to the year 29 A.C. to meet Jesus of Nazareth and His disciples – what will he, the dark and tough man from a different time learn from a man that knows him better than he knows himself? And what will the child learn from a man his parents have always said won't care about him because he has no worth?

Disclaimer:

Well … I do not own anything written in the Bible, neither the words nor the persons, places, or happenings – the words are God's words and any other things are the attests of witness from people who lived about two thousands of years ago, or rather the translations of their testimonies … I'm just borrowing things from that book, and even though I promise that I won't misuse anything written in the Bible, that I won't dishonour God, His name, His words or our belief in Him – I nevertheless do apologize for the chaos I might create in this story … I promise, I will bring it in as much order as is possible for a chaotically inclined writer … thanks for your understanding …

Rating:

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:

Here, I'd like to say that this story isn't meant to discredit the Bible, God, His word, Jesus, or anything we believe in. God is and remains our first and most important priority – or at least that it is what should be. I am writing this in the hope that I'll live up to the responsibility every author has even though I am aware that this here will be very difficult.

I will be trying to handle the subject as delicately and as seriously as possible, I promise, and I do hope that not only I won't be flamed for this, but that also I'll find one or another of my readers who'll gain a new view and understanding … and that you'll like this one as much as you do my other stories, even though this concerns a different – and in my opinion much more important – book … thanks …

Warning:

Story will contain bad language and swearing.

Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.

Story will contain references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once having been abused, then try to help … there are too many people in our world who are or have been mistreated.

This does however not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be …^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

… and sit a while with me …

Part one – of teachers and pupils

Chapter three – Idiot tell-tales

Fall 29 A.C. about November – Jerusalem

Viewpoint of James

He left the house and entered the front courtyard at the south-eastern side of the building, overlooking the fields and the road to the Dead Sea. He just needed to gather his own thoughts for a moment, to clear his mind and to – to understand. Or rather to come clean with what was to come, even though he didn't know how he could manage such a thing and he had to admit that – he was scared. And he was scared deeply of what was to come in a future surely not too far away from what he could feel and understand in his heart because it wasn't the first time that Jesus had foretold it.

They had come here to Jerusalem just last week, for the feast of tabernacles.

Jesus' brothers had reminded him of the feast – as if that had been necessary. His Lord had very well known that the feast would be celebrated. After all, well – Jesus was Jesus, wasn't he? And if Jesus wouldn't know about the Jewish feasts, then who would? Sometimes he really thought that they didn't understand his Master. They sometimes acted as if – as if they wouldn't really believe in him, as if they wouldn't really know how to take him even though the young man had done everything in his power to support his family when Joseph had died.

But then, on the other hand, how difficult must it be for Jesus' family? To live with the knowledge that their brother was the living son of God himself? How difficult must it be for them to know that their eldest brother was sent down to earth by God Himself? They, the disciples, they were only the pupils and the friends of Jesus, just walking with him for about two and a half years now, and they already were trying to catch up on him every now and then because he had lost them far behind from time to time. Not really, not in body, but in mind. So – how difficult must it be for Jesus' family to understand?

They loved him deeply, no question. He had seldom felt so much love in a family as in this one, Mary had seen to that, and whenever they came to Nazareth, then not only were all of them greeted heartily, but especially Jesus, with real and open joy in their hearts and they often asked them to stay longer, and longer, and longer. He was sure that Mary would have loved the idea of Jesus staying in Nazareth forever.

But with the knowledge of who Jesus truly was? Of course they sometimes didn't know – should they see in him their brother? Or should they see in him the son of God? Should they see in him their kin or should they see in him someone special? They had known him since their earliest childhood, after all, they had known him as their brother and then, years later, they had learned that he was God's son? Sent down to earth to fulfil his Father's will and to save mankind? No, he really didn't envy them, because surely that wasn't easy.

However, Jesus had told his brothers that –'now is not the right time for me to go, but you can go anytime. The world cannot hate you, but me it hateth, because I accuse it of doing evil. You go on, I'm not going to the festival, because my time has not yet come.' And so Jesus had remained in Galilee.

Just later on had he gone there too, unto the feast. Not openly, but as if it were in secret – something that was rather atypical for his Lord. Alright, not too atypical. It happened from time to time that Jesus took his leave in privacy – even though it might not always work as there were people noticing and then following them anyway – but well, in his opinion even Jesus had the right for some privacy from time to time, not to mention that, well, the Jews were on to – well – kill him recently, but that wasn't a first time after all either. Somehow his Lord was loved and hated at the same time, depending on whom they had met recently, and depending on what truths he had told people, truths they didn't want to hear. And so, people could love their Lord in one moment but wish to destroy and kill him just a moment later. But generally Jesus was an open man who made no secret of his sojourns – nor of his doings or believes.

Well, and at the feast the Jews had searched for Jesus and all the people had whispered about him but no one had dared speaking openly because they feared the Jews would kill him right there. He doubted that they would have done such a thing, murder at the temple during the feast, but somehow people seemed to fear just that.

Frowning he wondered if – wouldn't that have been a sin? He was sure of that. For a moment he even wondered how angry God must be at the Jews lately, because they, his own people, wanted to kill his son – howbeit he'd sent him down to safe all mankind, howbeit the Jews were his beloved people. Had Jesus talked with his Father about that? Sometimes it really wasn't easy to imagine how such a relationship between Jesus and God could even work – and how it could work as well as it actually did.

However, Jesus had gone to the temple anyway, to teach – of course to teach. Always to teach.

Not that he had a problem with that, he loved it to listen to Jesus and his teachings – it was just that, sometimes he was worried about his Lord, because sometimes the people didn't allow him some rest, always demanding miracles and wonders, demanding healing and blessing, and they never seemed to care about Jesus being tired or … or something – and Jesus would never care about it either because he put every other people before himself.

Sometimes people even sent for Jesus so that he may travel all his way to them and to heal them, disregarding his Master's own tiredness or troubles. He too, absolutely loved it to listen to Jesus' teaching, really – he just wished his Lord would take a rest from time to time. But well, that was wishful thinking and it would never occur.

Flashback

"Listen! A sower went out to sow his seed." Jesus said, his voice clear and rich, and he relaxed – because everything was back to normal after a rather eventful day – alright, after a very eventful day, actually, and the only thing left he needed to care for now, was to get Jesus to take a rest too, and preferably sooner than later. "And as he sowed, some fell by the way side and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it."

It was strange, how things could change from one moment to the other. One moment his Lord had been accused of doing a sin because he had healed someone on Sabbath day, and more then one person actually, and the next moment – well, people were standing at the shores, listening to Jesus telling a parable and not even allowing him some time to rest – and it was the Sabbath day – lo and behold!

And all had started with them being just hungry.

"And some fell upon a rock." He listened to Jesus continuing with his parable for a moment, looking over to the man before he allowed his mind to go on striving again. "And as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture."

Jesus had led them through the corn and Peter and John – and himself – had plucked some of the ears of the corn to eat them – and the Pharisees had seen it. And well, of course they had to tell on them, saying 'behold, thy disciples do that which is not lawful to do upon the Sabbath day.'

Those idiot tell-tales!

Really!

Holding his breath he looked over at Jesus who was comfortably sitting at the dark brown wooden plank in the boat, playing with one of the blades the fishermen used to gut the fishes with, and he sighed at the pointed look the other man cast at him for a moment. Of course Jesus had known his thoughts, like always. He really should try to keep such thoughts away, he knew, but that wasn't so easy! If he just knew how Jesus did this, not thinking bad of others once in a while if they annoyed him or if they accused him of one thing or another, or even went against him.

Sure, Jesus would not scold him for it, he wouldn't stop loving him and he wouldn't punish him either – it was just, he loved his Master and he hated it to disappoint him, even though it was in thought only.

"And some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it." The young Jew continued without giving away a comment concerning his thoughts, and the people at the shore listened. "But other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit a hundredfold."

Well, Jesus had answered them: 'Have ye not read what David did, when he was hungered? And they that were with him? They entered into the house of God and did eat the shewbread which was not lawful for him to eat, and neither for them which were with him but only for the priests.'

Well, they hadn't been able to say much about that.

Sometimes he thought that they, the Pharisees, were just jealous, that they lacked the love Jesus provided them, his disciples, with – even though he didn't understand, because Jesus loved them just as much, they just didn't see it. He didn't know how his Lord did this, but he loved simply everyone. Maybe their hearts were so hardened that they couldn't receive his love as did they, Jesus' disciples.

Well, and then there had been this old man with the withered hand and even though the Pharisees had – again – reminded Jesus at the Sabbath day, he'd said unto them: "What man shall there be among you, that shall have one sheep and if it fall into a pit on the Sabbath day, will he not lay hold on it and lift it out? How much then is a man better than a sheep?"

Well, he'd healed the man's hand and the Pharisees had started to hold council against him but Jesus had withdrawn and a lot of people had followed him which he'd all healed of one thing or another.

"He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." Jesus said and for a moment he forced his thoughts back to the present time, looked over at his Lord and he thought about the words.

He, that hath ears to hear, let him hear.

Had Jesus said them because he had been absent with his mind? Only listening with one ear instead of with both his ears?

Knowing Jesus he knew that there was more to those words than just hearing a noise and going over them again he was sure that – people who not only heard the words with their ears, but concentrated on their meaning and took them in into their hearts, they would gain – well, an inner hearing, an understanding, an inner spiritual reception of truth – something along those lines. Closing his eyes for a moment he bowed his head in concentration to listen into himself, to listen to his own heart, sure that this time he had come close to what Jesus had meant. He had to admit that – sometimes they were just – well, out of step with Jesus, not really understanding his words.

"Why do you use parables when you talk to the people?" John asked and he smiled – of course, let it be John to ask the question, and in front of audience no less.

"You are permitted to understand the mysteries of the kingdom of God – but others are not." Jesus answered but well, he was glad that their Lord was talking to them in parables too, because not only did he like them, but also it made it so much easier to understand, and to understand deeply. "To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given, and they will have an abundance of knowledge. But for those who are not listening, even what little understanding they have will be taken away from them. That is why I use these parables, for they look, but they don't really see, and they hear, but they don't really listen or understand. And this fulfils the prophecy of Isaiah that says, when you hear what I say, you will not understand and when you see what I do, you will not comprehend. For the hearts of these people are hardened, and their ears cannot hear, and they have closed their eyes, so their eyes cannot see, and their ears cannot hear, and their hearts cannot understand, and they cannot turn to me and let me heal them. But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear. Now, the parable is this: the seed is the word of God. Those by the way side are they that hear, then cometh the devil and taketh away the word out of their hearts lest they should believe and be saved. They on the rocks are they, which, when they hear, receive the word with joy and these have no root, which for a while believe and in time of temptation fall away. And that which fell among thorns are they, which, when they have heard, go forth and are choked with cares and riches and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to perfection. But that on the good ground are they, with an honest and good heart, having heard the word, kept it and bring forth fruit with patience."

End flashback

Sitting down at the wooden bench outside of the courtyard-house Jesus had built with them here in the south-eastern outskirts of Jerusalem some time ago, between the water-gate and the road to the Dead Sea, he looked around through the courtyard of the rather large house.

In the beginning, for more than a year, they had met at the house of Mary, Mark's mother and a faithful follower of Jesus. But then Jesus had insisted that they built a house of their own, all of them together, so that they always had a place of safety and shelter – and so that they might know how such a thing was done, he was sure about that. However, Jesus had helped them, had shown them how to build a house, and he had told them that – this needed to be a house, a shelter and a place for all the disciples and followers or friends in need.

And the strange thing was – never had anyone, who had needed shelter, been bothered while residing here, at this house. Never had anyone, who had needed a safe place, been taken captured while residing here, at this house. It was as if a special blessing was laying over this place, over this house, as if God's hands were held above this roof, too, and not only the roof shingles.

Stretching his legs beneath the wooden table his thoughts went back to the memory about the parable Jesus had told back then, on that Sabbath day nearly a year ago, the parable of the sower.

Of course he knew that Jesus had spoken of the unresponsive people, they by the way side which failed to respond to the seed – or word – sown, so Satan quickly removed it lest they be saved – shallow hearted individuals who had neither the will to understand nor the wish to follow, shallow hearted individuals who had no roots and quickly withered away. And then the impulsive people, the stony ground – they were those who immediately received the words but would not continue to grow because they had no root either. They believed for a while but soon were deflected by other things they felt the need to follow. Their rejection of the word was as speedy as their reception of it. And then there were the preoccupied people, those among the thorns, which allowed legitimate matters, cares of this world and illegitimate matters, the deceitfulness of riches and the lusts of other things to take priority over the words. They were choked by worldliness and the materialism, and of course nothing could deepen there because their hearts and minds were filled with earthly things already.

And – after all, who could fill a heart with love and with the words of God, if it was already filled with other things? It would be overflowing before the love and the words of God could sink deeper into the heart to push out the other things.

Well, and then there were few people only who received the seed, standing on good ground, and they would hear and receive, they would understand and they would take to heart the lecture. They would bear the fruit of faith with obedience and fidelity in them, they would be evidence of true conversion and belief.

Was he, James, one of them? Did he stand on good ground?

He really tried to be, and he really hoped that he was one of them – but what was his wish and what was his trying, it surely differed from what was reality. So – was he one of the last? With a good and open heart where the words could grow deep and then open up for all the mankind to love and to – to whatever? Was it that what Jesus had meant with – but many that are first shall be last, and the last shall be first? Because not only was it the last one, the smallest of them with lest regard and glory who would enter the kingdom of Heaven while the first ones, the rich and the most esteemed and prestigious people would be the last – but also because the last ones were those on good ground and those with a good heart in the parable?

Soft footfalls caused him to look up and he cast a thoughtful gaze at Jesus who approached him, carrying two mugs and placing one in front of him while sitting down at the bench opposite him.

"Thank you, Jesus." He softly said, taking the mug and sniffing. He smiled for a moment at the herbs he could smell, knowing that Jesus himself had brewed the tea as no one could cook tea as tasty and as calming as Jesus did – except for his mother maybe. He could smell the aniseeds, the honey and the raisins in the tea too aside from other herbs.

"Do not fill your heart with worry." Jesus said and he cast a questioning gaze at the man – who had, again, known his thoughts. "You are indeed one of the last while you will be one of the first. But do not fill your heart with worries – or there will be no room for all the love and for all the greatness of our Father's words in it. What is wrong, James?" Jesus then asked and his face grew serious again.

"When did you plan on telling us that you'd leave – that you'd leave soon, I mean?" He asked, and even though he knew that his tone of voice sounded accusing – he just couldn't help himself. "You've told the officers, at the feast."

"What exactly had been my words, James?" Jesus asked, seriously, watching him expectantly and he sighed. Of course Jesus knew exactly what his words had been, he didn't suffer from a weak mind, after all, nor did he suffer from old age, and he did remember such things very well, but it was like always – the other wanted him to say them as he had understood them. Not to mention that he surely would not give him a direct answer – he rarely did. If there was someone who was a Master when it came to speaking in riddles, then it was Jesus. Taking a sip of the tea he closed his eyes, allowing the herbs to do their work and to calm him.

"You said: 'I go unto him that sent me. Ye shall seek me, and shall not find me and where I am thither ye cannot come'." He said after having opened his eyes to look at Jesus.

He wasn't sure if the other man was alright or not. Sometimes he thought that – Jesus looked old, older than he was. That he looked sad and worried, tired. But at other times he was sure that no, Jesus didn't look old, he looked young, younger than he should look, much younger and surely not tired but full of life and energy – and not worried either but full of confidence, trust and unconcern.

"I also said: 'Yet, a little while am I with you'." Jesus answered, taking a sip of the tea himself. "Then I go unto him that sent me. My time has not yet come, I told you so, a week ago when my brothers asked me to go to the feast."

"But you will go." He complained. "And I cannot help thinking that you will go too soon. A little while is just that, after all – a little while. I love you, Jesus, and I don't want you to go, and especially not under the circumstances which you have foretold."

"And yet, it will be necessary." His Lord answered – no, his friend answered.

Jesus had long ago stopped being his Lord. Not really. Somehow he would always remain his Lord, because he actually was just that, his Lord, his Master. But at the same time, he also had become his brother and his friend, an important friend, most likely the most important friend in his life.

'And yet, it will be necessary.' – Maybe, maybe not. He didn't know and it was not his place to judge on that.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Viewpoint of Jesus

Watching James he thought back to the time when he had asked him to become his follower, James and his brother, John.

The two had been at work with Zebedee, their father, when he had passed them, by the see of Galilee. They had been in their boat, but not fishing. They had been mending their nets and knowing that these two would be fierce follower of him despite their boldness and their daring, or maybe even just because of their boldness and their daring, he had called them, just like he'd called Peter and Andrew.

But well, of course the following of the sons of Thunder wouldn't be as quiet as the following of Peter and Andrew had been. Peter and Andrew had just left their nets and had followed him, but when James and John had done the same, well, thunder had followed them, in form of Zebedee, their father.

Flashback

"What are you two doing?" Zebedee asked when James and John left the boat that was near the shore and waded through the shallow water towards the land – and knowing what would come he took a deep breath to calm his own nerves, casting a quick glance at the sky and asking his Father to give him strength as – just because he was God's son, it didn't mean that he had not his own failures and his own fears he had to fight with while he was here on earth being a man.

"We're called." James called back to his father who was still sitting in the boat, who was not really grasping the situation yet.

"You have work to do!" Zebedee started thundering. "Come back here, now is not the time to rest and talk to people, we need to get the nets ready before noon. In the evening it will be too late to start fishing!"

"We have other work to do now." John answered back, already reaching the land, as if it were the most normal thing in the world – being called away from his work to leave his father. "Tell our mother that we love her, will you, father?"

"What … you are not serious!" Zebedee now thundered even more, getting to his feet and letting the net fall to the ground while watching his sons departing. But well, he should have known that Zebedee wouldn't sit back and watch quietly when his sons abandoned him and their boat. It was their family business after all, it was what the family was living off of, after all.

"You two get back here, this instant!" Zebedee ordered, called at the top of his lungs actually while gesturing with his arms, leaving the boat himself and wading through the water towards the shore. "Have you not obligations to your elders? Did your mother not teach you to honour your father and your mother? Who's that lout even? And what dealings do you have with him? And you, who're you to call away my sons from their work? From their family? Have not I raised them and fed them for years?"

End flashback

Well, he had gone on walking, hoping that Zebedee wouldn't abandon his boat to follow them, but he should have known that he would.

"What right do you have, Lord, to call my sons away from me?" Zebedee had asked him then, taking his arm to stop him walking and he had stopped, looking at the older man. "Who raised them and taught them the law if not I? What right do you have now to take away my beloved sons?"

Well, not only had it been a very humanly and a very fatherly thing to do, trying to get his sons back and out of the hands of someone who seemed to be lurking them away from their right way, from their family and from their family business, but also had it been what the Jewish Law would expect any father to do – Zebedee had just been trying to keep his sons safe, after all, because surely the man had not realized who he was and what his sons' future work would be – and how should he even?

"You have raised them well, Zebedee, but they have much more important work to do now. But do not worry, because you will not suffer any needs or poverty, nor will your wife or any other family member with you." He had answered the man. Of course, Zebedee hadn't been happy with his answer and he had followed them for some time more, had left the boat with the few hired men, trying to get his sons back into their family business, gesturing and arguing, but well – he had been angry, after all, and rightfully so, and he had been livid, loud and unrelenting – thunderous. Well, and James and John, they were not so unlike their father, they were just that, bold and daring, and sometimes loud and livid … well, the sons of thunder.

All of his disciples, they were not a bunch of docile lambs but quite a fierce, rough and sometimes unruly bunch, and he was not here to tame them but to teach them, and to prepare them for their own ministry. But they were loyal and they loved him deeply – and they did their best to follow him, and he didn't expect more of them than the best of them anyway.

"I will not be lost to you when I am gone." He said to James.

James had been still and reserved since that evening in the temple, but he had hoped that the man would come to him and speak to him by his own – what he hadn't done, something that was not normal for James and if he had to be honest, then he had started to worry himself. James always spoke his mind, always telling him – sometimes even in anger – what bothered him, something he valued most concerning his friend and he was a bit worried that he hadn't done so, and wouldn't do so, this time – and a friend James had become over the past two years.

He always tried to love all his disciples the same, to not making any differences just like his mother had never made any differences. His mother had loved all of them the same. She had never preferred him just because he was Jesus, just because he was the son of God – but she had treated the others with as much love, had provided them with as much time and clothes, and had taught them as much as she had him. And now he tried to do the same with his disciples – and he had been forced to learn that this was not an easy thing, because he really loved James, John and Peter the most and he kept them closer than his other disciples.

"You are not only my disciple, you are not only a person I am teaching – you are my brother, you are my friend, and I will always be with you." He said, knowing that this was the truth. "Like Moses and Abraham were not left behind by God, neither will you be left behind by me."

"Just forget it, Jesus." James said and he could hear by the other man's voice that he was close to tears, not to mention by the choice of his words, which startled him more than he liked it.

"Does the pain of a thorn in the lion's paw stop hurting because he closes his eyes and tries to forget it?" He asked, hoping to make it clear to James – he needed to face his fears and his hurts, the mental hurts as much as his physical hurts.

"No." James admitted, taking a deep breath and he nodded at the other man. "But your example doesn't make it any better. You will go away and I hate the thought of it!"

"If you look towards my departure with hate and anger in your heart, then this anger will one day fall on my person itself and you will feel anger because I left you behind, never mind how deep in your heart I will remain." He said. "And you are my disciples, you are my first followers. On you all men will build their belief and their faith, their trust. If one of my first followers starts hating me, then this one will be the ground stone for those who come after. Do not hate the thought of my departure, look towards to it with serenity, with peace in your mind and you will be peaceful – because not your will needs to be done, but our Father's."

"You are right, of course." James sighed but he could see that the other wasn't really happy with it anyway. "But it isn't easy. You don't know the pain I feel in my heart at the thought alone."

"Of course it isn't easy." He answered, calmly. "But you will grow with it – and I do know the pain you feel in your heart, James."

"Then, will it get better?" His disciple asked and he took a deep breath, reaching out to place his hand on the other man's arm.

"Oh, James." He sighed. "I would happily tell you that – yes, it will get better, but truth is that it will be a long time until then while this pain will never go away completely. It will get better with time, yes, but you will always feel it – and it will always sting."

Watching Peter, Andrew and Mark leaving the house with mugs of tea of their own, Mark laughing at something Andrew had just said and walking backwards, he smiled. That boy was a handful, he had to admit that, but he liked his youthful energy, his childlike behaviour and the openness of someone who trusted blindly.

"Mark!" He called the boy who turned and then came over, the smile on the young face widening. "You won't find a small rabbit hopping backwards, because he has no eyes on the back of his head and could therefore end up being eaten by a snake."

"There's no snake big enough that could eat me." The boy smiled at him.

"No, but you could stumble over one as you won't see it." He answered, knowing that it wasn't the first time, and that it wouldn't be the last time the boy would walk backwards either. "Like that branch on the floor there, over which you would have stumbled had you not changed direction. And then the snake would bite you because you have disturbed it. It is late, little one, won't you go to bed? These two are no company for a young lad such as you anyway. They have only mischief in their heads."

"And what is it what this one here has in his head?" James asked, winking at the boy who wrinkled his nose at the term 'little one', but he could see that the sadness remained just below the surface of the smile on his disciple's face.

"I have no mischief in my head." Mark said, his eyes large on James. "I'll go to bed after I have finished my tea. You know, mother has told me that the herbs she is using for her tea are the same as you are using, and that she has learned from you how to prepare them, Jesus. She said that I am able to sleep easier ever since."

Flashback

Approaching the young mother he touched her shoulder, looking down into the by now clearly unnerved face calmly.

"Give him here." He softly said, taking the nurseling child.

He had come here just this afternoon to visit Mary and her husband. He had heard of the birth of their child more than a month ago after the news had travelled from Jerusalem to Nazareth, but it had taken him some time to prepare for his leave as he at the same time had prepared to leave for a while and to wander the lands. He'd had to settle a few things first to make sure that his mother and his younger siblings would be well cared for during his absence and he had needed to make sure that the house, too, would be looked after while he was gone. James was old enough to care for some things by now and to help with things, but he was not old enough to care for everything alone, not for a long time, at least.

Well, he would stay a few days with the young family before he took his leave and both had been happy because of his visit. They had enjoyed a nice dinner and then Aristopolos and he had started discussing his probable routes while Mary had prepared her young child, Mark, for bed – over an hour ago now while the suckling child had been crying fiercely and with more patience than his mother apparently was ready to show tonight.

Taking the child he started walking a few steps and then went outside the back door to step on the small yard behind the house, enjoying the summer evening, all the while rubbing the baby's belly. He had enough experience with small children, seeing that he had younger siblings and he'd always been eager to help his mother with them, fascinated by the small little fingers and the small little noses. Later on he had learned to appreciate the keen perception of any small children.

"Now, what is troubling you, little one?" He asked the child.

Of course the boy wouldn't understand his words.

When James had been born he'd been a young child himself, and one day he had talked to James like he would talk to his parents or the other children in their neighbourhood, but James apparently hadn't understood his words. He had told his mother this new discovery and she had answered him that, of course, the baby was too small to understand but he would grow in not only body, but in mind and heart too. However, he soon had learned that often it helped if a baby just heard someone's voice, and that it actually was important for the baby so that he could learn and understand.

"I will tell your mother how to make a special tea that will help you, little one." He said, enjoying the life the little bundle in his arm radiated. "And even though it will be a while, next time I visit, I will bring a few herbs that will do good to you too."

End flashback

Well, the baby boy had soon after fallen asleep, even though he had done nothing different than Mary had. It had been just the sound of his foreign and deeper voice, rather than Mary's, that had caused the infant to concentrate on it curiously instead of continuing with his crying – no reason to work miracles here.

"Tell your mother that I am glad it helped." He answered. "What have you learned in school today?" He then asked.

It had been several years until he had been able to visit Mary and Aristopolos again and Mark had been old enough to go to his bed by himself by then, but like he had promised, he had brought herbs and spicery.

"We have learned how to translate a text into Greek." Mark answered, wrinkling his nose. "I don't like Greek."

"I know that you don't, Mark." He answered. "What happens if you meet people on the street and you don't know where exactly Athens lies?" He then asked.

"I don't know." The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they would explain it to me."

"Most likely." He answered. "If it is in Greek however, you won't understand them if they explained it to you as you have not learned it because you don't like the language. What happens if you meet people on the street and you are unable to tell them how old all of them would be together?"

"Nothing would happen, because no one would ask such a stupid thing." The boy answered.

"Most likely not." He admitted, smiling at the boy.

"Anyway, I can do arithmetic and if my mother sends me to the market, then I always get what she needs and I never need more money than she gave me." The boy shrugged his shoulders and he nodded his head.

"Even having enough money left so that you can buy some of the sweet bread, haven't you, lad?" Peter asked, chuckling and patting the boy's shoulder.

"Sure, but mother never forbade me." The boy answered, looking up at Peter.

"You did nothing wrong, Mark." He said. "I just want to show you what happens if you meet people on the street and you are unable to understand them – for example if they need your help and ask you the way?" He then asked. "You would not even be able to help them, but you wouldn't be able to ask them where Athens even lies either."

"Alright." The boy sighed. "I don't like Greek anyway. And I know where Athens lies."

"Of course you know, little one." He smiled at the boy. "You are very well educated after all. It is important that you are able to speak your mind, Mark. Your father was a wise man and Peter is too. You are following both in your studies and they both can be very proud of you."

"I am proud of the boy." Peter said, sitting down beside the boy and ruffling the wild hair.

"He will have a better position one day than you have, Peter." John laughed, winking at the boy.

"I do hope so!" Peter answered, not offended by the joke. "After all I am responsible for his education. What trust Mary has set in me by giving the lad over to me for his education I hope I won't disappoint her in that."

"'Esus, 'Esus! 'Ames!" Was heard and a small boy hopping up and down at the other side of the low stone wall called up his attention and he smiled at the little lad.

"Nathaniel." He said, waving the young child over who immediately obeyed and climbed over the low stone wall by just leaning with his upper body over it and then simply letting himself falling off the wall on the other side before scrambling to his little feet and running towards him. "You should be in bed." He said, knowing that it wasn't the boy's fault. "And you are wearing your shirt the wrong way 'round."

Nathaniel was the son of Rosemary, a woman who had lost her husband during an accident when the boy had been but a year old. The young man had fallen off the roof of one of the houses in the upper city when adding a second floor to the house, something that wasn't a common thing. Most houses in Jerusalem had one floor only, but Nathaniel's father had gotten the order to build a second floor to the house of the public secretary and while doing his work the man had slipped and fallen off the roof – people said he was dead immediately. Rosemary had gotten a small sum from the palace, again, not a common thing, but the sum hadn't lasted long anyway. It had been just enough to buy food for a few weeks and clothes for the boy after he'd had his next growth spurt and the widow's mite was barely enough for one person, let alone a mother with a small child that needed food and clothing. But it had been a help until the young mother had found a job – and now she worked at several eateries around the palace – and overtime so, mostly in the evenings.

In other words Nathaniel often was alone. Rosemary's neighbours were looking after the boy every now and then, but of course, a five year old was not as stupid as most people thought he would be, and so there often was a hole the child could slip through to get away – and most of the times he ended up right here.

"Come here, you little imp." John said, catching the boy before he reached him and the lad happily allowed John to take him and to sit him on his lap, ignoring his comment about the –'wrong way 'round shirt', as well as his comment about the boy needing to be in bed at such a late hour – with a squeaky "'Ohn, 'Ohn!", and he shook his head, his eyebrow lifted at the small lad as generally a five year old was able to pronounce names like Jesus, James or John correctly, but Nathaniel somehow had never managed and he just didn't say the first letter at all. It was one of the things that was – clearly Nathaniel – like the shirt which he was wearing the wrong way 'round whenever he saw him.

Happily Nathaniel leaned against John's chest, snuggled close while John ran his hand over the lad's back, and then the boy closed his eyes, most likely listening to the man's strong heartbeat, and he knew, it would only take a few moments until the boy had fallen asleep and then John would bring him over to his house and put him to bed – it wouldn't be a first time after all.

For a moment he frowned upon the picture of a small boy with black hair and deep, black, eyes in a pale face, a scrawny little child that wore strange clothing. The picture was gone too soon before he could see more, however, and not sure where this feeling came from but knowing that he could trust his instincts, knowing that he could trust his feelings, he took a deep breath – because two of the kinds like Nathaniel, added to Mark, that could become rather difficult.

Getting off the bench he inclined his head towards James with a pointed look, making sure that the other had understood his earlier words, that he felt better, but the smile James regarded him with wasn't a happy smile and he knew, he would need to have another discussion with him.

He went to the back part of the large yard, the place for privacy they had created, and there he sat down at one of the stones, allowing his mind to wander and to clear his thoughts.

"You have set a lot of expectations in me, Father." He then started talking with his Father in Heaven. "And a lot of responsibility too. I don't fear the responsibility, you know that, and I know that it is a necessity, and always was, but I fear I could disappoint you. How am I to meet all the expectations you have set in me? While at the same time I am living with the same failures and with the same weaknesses as do all my brothers and sisters here on earth? And so I ask you to help me with this, Father, I ask you to help me with meeting your expectations. You have sent me here, and I ask for your help."

He ran his hand over his face for a moment before taking a sip from the tea.

This was his greatest fear.

Not that he might be hated, and not that he might be killed one day because he knew that he just had to die, and it wasn't too long until then. Not even that he would lose his friends – no, but to disappoint his Father. That was his greatest fear. He was as human as were all other men on earth, after all, and that he wouldn't be able to meet his Father's expectations through this human touch, that he would – that he would answer to his weaknesses in not only his last weeks and months but especially in his last hours, that was his greatest fear, that he could disappoint his Father while losing his faith and his trust.

Of course he trusted his Father, that he would stand by his side in his hardest time, but that didn't mean that he feared less.

"Have I not always stood by your side?" He heard his Father asking and smiling he looked up. "And have I not always been proud of you, Son?"

Flashback

Slowly he went into the water, like all the other people which had gathered here, which were waiting until it was their turn, patiently, and like all the people which were waiting for friends while allowing the sun and the wind to dry their hair and clothes after it had been their turn, and for a moment he could feel the peace of the situation itself.

There was not the same hectic as was in Jerusalem, or as was in Nazareth, in one of the other cities. It was peaceful and it was calm, as if time itself stood still at this place while only the soft sound of the wind was heard, rustling through the grass, while only the soft sound of the water was heard, flowing along in its bed, and the soft whispers of the people waiting at the shore. These sounds were only disturbed by the soft splashing of water, soft sounds his movements caused the water to make, but other than that, there was peace and calmness, the sun sparkling at the surface of the water, and he could understand why John had chosen this place.

"It's been a while, Jesus." John said when he approached him, smiling at him with real happiness in his eyes.

"It's been indeed." He answered. "But at least, this isn't the Sea of Galilee but a river only."

"And you can swim this time." John answered with a wink at him, surely remembering the same incidence as did he.

It had been the summer in his ninth year of life, and their fathers had taken them to the sea, John's father, and his father, Joseph. They had been playing near the shore, where the water wasn't too deep, and they'd had a lot of fun, like any other children had, too, while their fathers had been near to catch fish so that they would have something to eat in the evening. John and he had been playing in the sea and John – who seemed to be born for the water – had gone deeper into the sea than he should, and he, Jesus, he had followed.

In the end John had pulled him out of the water after he'd nearly drowned, and the day after his father had taught him how to swim so that such couldn't happen a second time.

For a moment he looked up to his Father, thanking him that he had always looked out for him, giving him a friend at his side who could not only swim but was a water bug even, giving him a mother who had great wisdom which she had taught him, and giving him a worldly father who had taught him a lot of craftsmanship things.

"I doubt that there will be the need for that." He answered, looking back at John, his dark eyes steadily on the other man who smiled at him mischievously. "Not this time, my friend."

"And I doubt that this here is correct." John said seriously, his eyes narrowed at him. "In real it is me, needing to be baptized by you – and you come to me for this?"

"Allow it now, John, because this is the fitting way for us to fulfil all righteousness." He answered and grasping John's hand he closed his eyes, not only trusting the other man blindly to dunk him into the water, but daring him to do his work with his gesture, too – and a moment later he could feel John's hand on his back while the man with his other hand dunked him into the water.

For a moment time seemed to stand still before he broke through the surface of the water again and stood before John – and then they all could hear a voice, deep and rich, saying "this is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased".

Looking up for a moment he was – speechless, because never before had his Father in heaven said such a thing openly, to the world – and to the world it had been – and his chest felt like exploding with happiness. Looking over at John for a moment he could see the same happiness in the other man's dark eyes, and without a word he embraced John for a moment, not only to deepen their friendship, and to show his love, but to share this one moment with him too.

His Father, God, was well pleased in him.

End flashback

It hadn't been the first time that his Father in heaven had shown him how pleased he was, and neither had it been the last time, of course not, but it had been the first time that he'd done so openly and to the entire world even – and he had been as happy about it, as he was now, because his Father was proud of him, again.

And his Father would be with him, he would take care of him, and he would make sure that in the end he would be alright, like he always had done, and like he always would do.

It wasn't a solution his disciples were happy about, because there was no solution which would make them happy. He had to die, never mind them, but he felt better anyway, he felt alright.

He knew what was to come, of course. And of course he was scared of it – but for the moment, he felt better, for the moment he felt alright – and when his time had come, then he would ask for his Father's support anew.

He had been unsure about his disciples too, about how they would take it if there was someone walking towards them and telling them that they should follow him, that they could live in forgiveness from now on if only they followed him with all their mind and heart? But despite his first unsureness, he had found a way to make them see and again, his Father had been very happy when he had managed this, to make them see that – no longer was the message to be restricted to the house of Israel but that it was to be declared to all people. The word of the Kingdom would be his proclamation, his gospel and so the truth wouldn't be limited to the now Old Testament anymore, and so he was the first sower, teaching his disciples so that he could be working through them, spreading the gospel throughout the world while others would follow – being the next sowers, the next disciples.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in … and sit a while with me …

Back to a school and to a time during the Second World War – and the arrival of the students …

Added author's note

thank you for reading – and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …

Also I wish to say at this point that – of course I could, and maybe even should, change the speech between Jesus and his disciples to a form of old English, or rather middle age English – but I doubt that you'd really enjoy the story in this case … I think, you'll agree with me on that – the other way 'round it will at least be easier to read …