by Andrew Crown
“Who was the visitor to whom you were speaking?” demanded Asher. “You didn’t invite him in, I see.”
“He was an old, sickly man who your daughter visited regularly when she was well. I gave him some fish and water and sent him on his way.”
“He came just to ask for some sustenance?” Asher’s eyes searched for the truth.
“Well, he also had some story about a healer in the desert who cures people of various diseases. I appreciate his concern for Leah, but his fanciful tales are a waste of time. He even suggested that I leave here to seek this man out!” Dismas said in bemusement.
“Why don’t you?”
The urgency in Asher’s voice surprised Dismas. “The confused musings…”
“I will not sit idly by while my only child wastes away as I did with her mother! If there is a chance this man can help, even if it is just a small chance, then you will seek Him out.” The veins on Asher’s temple pulsated.
“But these are just stories, Asher!” Dismas countered. “I understand that you are upset, but to put false hope in the ravings of a stranger on our doorstep will cause you greater pain.”
Asher put his face a few inches from Dismas’. “The writings in the ancient text talk of Moses bringing our people out of bondage in Egypt by invoking things like swarms of locusts and pestilence on Egyptian cattle. The texts also talk about Joshua toppling the walls of Jericho with only the blast from his horn. I believe all of these things!” Asher’s nostrils flared. “If I have faith in those stories, then I can have faith in this one.”
Dismas said nothing as Asher took a long, deep breath and continued in a much more even voice. “You will be of greater help to my daughter and to me by seeking out this man. What is his name?”
“Jesus—I believe is what the beggar said.”
“Jesus? I think I may have heard the name before. Stories from the other fishermen.” Asher stared off into space as if trying to conjure a fleeting memory.
Suddenly his attention snapped back to Dismas and he put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “I know you love her.”
Dismas’ heart skipped a beat in surprise as Asher continued, “I see how you talk to her, how you treat her. I want to let you know that I approve wholeheartedly.”
Dismas’ mind was racing but Asher chose to ignore the thoughts that played out on his face. “Once Leah pulls through this, we can start planning your marriage…but she first has to pull through! This Jesus may be our only chance to save her, as strange as it may sound. Please, Dismas. I need you and Leah needs you.”
Dismas was still reeling, but Asher’s plea began to resonate with him. It wasn’t belief Dismas was compelled by, but logic. What harm could it do? Leah’s health was deteriorating and she didn’t have much time. She was worth the journey to find Jesus.
He took a deep breath. “I will go seek out Jesus. If the stories about Him are true, I will bring Him here.”
Asher embraced him gratefully. “Then go, my son. Leah is getting weaker by the day. I will do what I can for her here while we anxiously await your speedy return.”
The two men hurriedly gathered some food and water, which Dismas stored in a brown cloth satchel he slung over his shoulder.
Before he departed, Dismas stole a quick peek at Leah in her bed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she slept. Despite her pain and physical deterioration, she still looked angelic. Seeing her in this horrible state hardened his resolve to help. He vowed he would travel as quickly as he could to find Jesus and bring him back to this room.
Dismas then slipped on his sandals, shook Asher’s hand in a wordless goodbye, and set out into the morning light.
Chapter XIII
It took only a few minutes for Dismas to realize that he had no idea where he was going. He paused on the dusty road. Heading south would take him along the River Jordan towards Jerusalem. Going north would lead him towards the town of Bethsaida, beyond the northernmost tip of the Sea, about a two day walk. Dismas wiped the sweat that had already formed on his brow as he considered his options.
The strange, disfigured visitor said that Jesus spent much of his time around the Sea of Galilee. Perhaps he could hug the coast and pass from fishing village to fishing village asking around? But what if the stranger was wrong and Jesus was instead in Jerusalem? It would take a few days to travel the perimeter of the Sea and Dismas didn’t have time to waste. Still, he reasoned, a man who performed spectacular miracles shouldn’t be too hard to find. Someone like that must create a considerable commotion wherever He went, if the stories were to be believed.
Once his internal deliberations were complete, Dismas decided to head north. He would stay on the western shore of the Sea towards the town of Bethsaida and then if he could not locate Jesus, he would head down the eastern shore towards Jerusalem. Without any knowledge of where Jesus could be found, it was no better or worse than any other plan.
He wasn’t on the road for long before he was wishing he had a mount. His ride down after his escape from the olive growers, as stressful as it was on a dying horse, at least eased the burden from his legs. But there was nothing he could do about that now. After a while, the sound of his steps hitting the packed dirt created a sort of rhythm that allowed his mind to wander away from his sore legs and back to Leah, dying in her bed while her cough mercilessly prevented her from having even one moment of peace. This horrifying mental image drove Dismas to quicken his stride.
After traveling for almost two hours, he had not seen any other soul on the road; even the sea was obscured from view. An occasional hawk lazily circling over the rocky landscape was the only living creature to keep him company. This was increasingly frustrating as Dismas couldn’t ask anyone for any directions or news of Jesus. For all he knew, he was walking further away from the great healer.
Finally, he heard the rattle of a cart loaded with supplies up ahead, just beyond a bend in the road. A minute later, a man came into view walking in front of a tan horse pulling a wagon weighed down with goods. The clanking of tin and sloshing of wine in ceramic jars suggested he was a merchant. Behind the wagon was a young man, a servant, Dismas surmised, who was showing signs of exertion as he pushed the wagon to help the horse take the somewhat severe turn. It was a slow process to navigate the heavy load around the bend.
“Hello, friend!” Dismas called out as cheerfully as he could.
The merchant glanced up at him. “Greetings to you.”
“I have a question for you, if you could be so kind.”
“I cannot stop and sell to you at the moment, my friend. I need to make it to Tiberias in two days.”
“No, no,” Dismas said. “I’m actually looking for a man. The one they call Jesus of Nazareth. Do you know where I can find Him?”
The merchant shook his head vigorously. “No, I have never heard of anyone by that name.”
“Well, thank you for…”
“I have heard of Jesus, the one they call the Christ.” The voice interrupted Dismas, and both he and the merchant turned towards the back of the wagon. The servant continued, “I have heard He is preaching north of here near Bethsaida with His disciples.”
“And how do you know this?” the merchant asked quizzically.
“Master, I heard men talking about it last night at the inn. Ever since I first heard of Jesus, I have wanted to meet Him.” The young servant said longingly, seeming to drift off as he spoke.
The merchant turned back towards Dismas. “Well, I’ve never heard of Him, but Jotham here is a trustworthy servant. He picks up more bits of information than I do. I believe what he says.”
Dismas was elated that he finally had some confirmation that he was going the right direction. “Thank you both and I wish you good fortune in your travels and business.” The two men bowed respectfully, and the travelers parted, going opposite directions.
As the approaching dusk threw long shadows the over rocky outcroppings, Dismas was fortunate enough to stumble upon an inn. F
or a few denarii, he enjoyed a meal of bread and stew and had a bed of straw to rest in until the morning light, whereupon he resumed his journey.
When he reached the outskirts of Bethsaida, he began to pass more people coming from the town. Dismas asked each one if they knew of Jesus. Some did not know the name, but others encouragingly said that they heard He was in the city. Dismas quickened his pace at the news.
Save for its larger size, Bethsaida was not drastically different from the fishing village where Asher and Leah lived. There were mostly single-story, modest homes made out of clay bricks clustered near the water. The townspeople were either fishermen, carpenters, or shepherds. There was not much to distinguish Bethsaida from any number of towns like it throughout Galilee.
A trickle of people seemed to be moving the same direction, outside the boundary of the city, leaving the streets surprisingly empty. Dismas held up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and saw a line of people congregating on a nearby hill. They looked like a stream of ants as they filed behind one another. Dismas wandered the city streets, not quite sure what to make of the exodus.
Finally, he spotted an older woman walking past. She moved slowly, her back humped and her face weathered with age.
“Excuse me,” Dismas said. She turned her head towards him as best she could but continued to make her deliberate walk towards the hill. “Why is everyone heading up that hill?”
“We are going to see the one they call Jesus of Nazareth. He is giving a sermon on that hill.”
For the second time on his journey, Dismas couldn’t believe his luck. He’d arrived at the right place and at the right moment, like a preordained plan that was set into motion. He thanked the woman and headed towards the gathering multitude.
He arrived at the foot of the hill after a short, brisk walk and began to make his way up, taking care to step in between those seated in the grass. He was amazed at both the number and variety of people present. Rich and poor. Old and young. Men and women. Numbering at least several thousand, Dismas had only known such crowds at a gladiatorial fight or a chariot race. This Jesus certainly must be influential to draw this kind of following, he thought to himself. He had to try to talk to this man before he started preaching so he could take Him back to Leah immediately afterwards.
He got a couple dozen feet up the slope when he came upon the backs of other people trying to push their way up to the summit. Dismas stuck out his arm to create some space and squeeze through but those in front of him closed the gap.
“Move along!” one of them shouted over his shoulder. Dismas continued to try to pick his way through and was met with similar rebukes.
There were men at the top of the hill with their arms outstretched in an effort to calm the crowd.
“Rabbi will bless you all shortly,” one of them proclaimed. Still, a mass of people tried to surge forward, each with their own request or question for the man they had heard so many miraculous stories about.
Dismas worried that he would never get through the jostling crowd in time. They all were concentrated on the same side of the hill nearest to Bethsaida. Perhaps he could circumvent the masses by going to the far side of the hill and climbing up that way? If Jesus was at the top, it was worth a shot, but he had to hurry.
Dismas moved purposefully down the hill, past playing children and bleating goats brought by some of the expectant pilgrims. He picked his way around the rocks and trees and quickly put the mound of earth in between him and the city. The far side of the hill was much rockier and barren than the grassy side where all the people were gathered. Dismas needed to go down on all fours to steady himself as he climbed over the rocks and boulders. Occasionally, a stone would come loose under his feet, causing him to slip and bang his knee on the hard ground as the loose sediment cascaded down the slope.
As perspiration formed on his brow, Dismas was relieved that his intuition was correct. This side of the hill was completely bereft of people—a testament to the difficulty of the climb. He paused near the top and sat on a flat, rocky surface to nurse the cuts and scrapes on his hands and his knees and catch his breath.
“Who goes there?” A voice called out from above him.
Dismas spun to find the source of this voice that seemed to echo off of the rocks. Standing about ten feet away, nearly at the summit, was a man with a black beard clothed in a simple beige robe. His expression was more of concern than aggression, and this relaxed Dismas.
“I’m looking for the one they call Jesus of Nazareth. Are you Him?”
The man shook his head. “No, my name is Peter. Jesus is about to speak to the people gathered on the other side of this hill. I heard falling stones and I came to see if it was an animal or a person.”
Dismas clamored up the few feet to stand alongside Peter. Despite being out of breath, he had no time to waste. “Please Peter. I need to speak with Jesus. The daughter of my employer is very sick, and I hear Jesus may be able to help.”
Peter let out a sigh and any suspicion left in his face was washed away. “This is why you climbed up the back side of this hill?” Dismas nodded. “That is commendable. I understand the great lengths that we go through to help those that we care about. But there are many that come from far and wide to see Jesus. His purpose here isn’t to heal all those that are sick but to give them something greater. The promise of life everlasting.”
Dimas was puzzled. “I don’t understand. You talk as if healing the sick and prolonging life are two different things.” He pressed on. “Please, if I can speak to Jesus for just a moment. The girl’s father and I are willing to pay…”
Peter put his arm around him. “I understand your pain, my friend. Perhaps if you listen to Jesus speak, you will begin to understand the purpose of His work. Afterwards, come find me and I promise that I will do all that I can to bring you to Jesus.”
Dismas felt the familiar rage bubbling inside of him. How dare this man try to placate him with words when Leah’s life was at stake! “Damn you!” he yelled angrily in Peter’s face. “There is no time for this. She is dying and I am doing everything in my power to help her before it is too late!”
Peter looked at him sorrowfully and seemed unperturbed by the outburst. “My brother, if I could take away your pain, I would. I…”
“Peter, to whom are you speaking?”
Another voice, soft but powerful, cut through the tension like a lightning bolt. Despite the calm steadiness of the voice, both Peter and Dismas both stopped and turned as if it had called out urgently.
A few feet away stood a man with shoulder length dark brown hair, a dark brown beard, and tan skin that gave Him the appearance of one that hardly spent any time indoors. His deep brown eyes radiated friendliness and compassion. He appeared to be around thirty years old. He smiled at Dismas, His face welcoming. It was like seeing an old friend after a long absence, even though Dismas was sure that this was the first time he had ever seen this man.
His robe was muddy and frayed in many places. The man had clearly travelled many miles in it. Despite His disheveled appearance, there was an almost regal aura about Him. He seemed perfectly content to be at that spot at that exact moment talking to Dismas without any other care in the world. Dismas felt a deep burning reverence, as if he was in the presence of a king instead of a weathered stranger. This man was clearly Jesus, although Dismas would not have been able to articulate how he knew that.
“Rabbi, this man seeks You out,” Peter answered.
“Please,” Dismas added, “the daughter of my employer is very sick from an illness that claimed the life of her mother. I have traveled all this way to ask You to come see her.”
Jesus walked down the rocky hill towards Dismas. Stopping right in front of him he said, “Do you know who I am?”
“I heard You’re a great healer, and that is why I came to You. Your reputation is well-known and respected.”
“Do you believe that a man can cure this sickness?” Jesus asked. His tone remained friend
ly, but His gaze was intense.
“I…I don’t know truly,” Dismas stammered. “But I know that if You cannot cure her, then no man can.”
Jesus replied, “You are correct. No man can heal her.”
Dismas’ posture involuntarily slumped as his head sank and he put his hands on his hips. This trip had been in vain.
Jesus continued, “But God can do things that man cannot do.” Dismas looked back up at Him. He couldn’t make sense of what he just heard. Jesus only smiled. Dismas looked towards Peter, who nodded with reverence.
“I don’t understand,” Dismas said.
“To fully understand requires immense faith. Faith cannot grow immediately any more than an acorn can become a great tree overnight. You must nurture it and learn to open your heart,” Jesus said, clasping his hand on Dismas’ shoulder.
Dismas didn’t know what this man was talking about and decided to try to steer the conversation back to Leah. “I only ask that You come visit our home as soon as You can.”
Jesus smiled at him again and responded, “Come join us for food, fellowship, and to hear the Word of God. Then you can begin to understand more about not only Me but about yourself and your purpose in this life and the next.”
Jesus beckoned towards the top of the hill where the multitude of people were waiting just over the crest, shielded from view by His disciples holding back the crowd. His voice was so warm and serene. Dismas wanted to hear more of what this man said but thoughts of Leah filled his mind.
“But what about my sick friend?”
“Leah will be fully recovered by the time you return home,” Jesus assured him. “Dismas, I would love for you to join us in worship.”
Dismas was stunned. He realized that he never mentioned his name or Leah’s name and yet this man knew both. He didn’t know what to make of what Jesus said, but he felt he could trust Him. When talking with Him, Dismas somehow felt deep down that everything would be alright.
