And He Healed Them All: Second Edition

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

  The past days of revelation and introspection piled up on that brief comment like a crash in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I took a shaky breath that drew both Walter’s and Jillian’s attention. Jillian reached out a hand and held my arm, but none of us knew what to say. They seemed as daunted by the unfamiliar territory as I was.

  Chapter Six

  What It Takes to Believe

  I visited Walter again on Wednesday that week. To my surprise, he had eaten his dinner while sitting in his favorite chair, fully dressed in a maroon cardigan sweater, a button-down-collar shirt, and slacks. From head to toe he looked a hundred percent better than any time during the past year. His face seemed to deny his age and certainly retained no signs of the debilitating stroke he had suffered so recently.

  “Well, now you’re just showing off.” I teased him.

  His wide grin showed some teeth. He looked relaxed with his hands resting on the arms of the soft velvet-like chair, his cardigan contrasting nicely with the pale blue fabric.

  He chuckled. “Oh, you know me too well. I really did want to flaunt my newfound strength, though we’ll have to save the arm wrestling for later.”

  I laughed and scanned the room for a place to sit. The bed looked like my best option, with the good chair taken and a pile of books in a smaller, less comfortable chair on the other side of the room. As I climbed onto his bed I asked about the books.

  “Looks like you’ve been doing some reading.”

  “Oh, yes. The Internet is a wonderful thing, at least when it comes to finding resources.”

  “Looks like you have enough to keep you busy for a while. Just let me know when you’re done with those, and I’ll visit the college library for you, if you want.”

  “Thank you. I may take you up on that.”

  I propped myself comfortably in his old spot. “On the phone you said you wanted to tell me the rest of that last dream.”

  “Oh, you want to hear about that, do you?”

  “Yes, professor,” I said like an obedient child.

  Walter smiled and began. “The teacher continued to push into the crowd. Celebrating their healings, or that of family or friends, people had begun to slacken the push toward him, fragmenting the mass of humanity that covered the hill. There were, of course, still many hundreds of people waiting to be healed.

  “Through all of this, a young boy carrying a lamb approached. A large, round woman at the edge of the crowd asked him, ‘What are you doing here with that animal?’

  “‘I want to see the teacher,’ the boy said.

  “‘See him about what? He’s quite busy healing people, you know.’

  “The boy avoided answering directly. ‘I want to see the teacher,’ he said again. He ducked behind a group that was edging closer to the teacher. The woman shook her head as he disappeared from her view.

  “The teacher was helping a woman to stand. As he held her hand, her legs shook and it looked like some concealed person was lifting her up off the ground. And then she stood on her own legs. Her robe was now too short for her fully developed limbs, and more than one woman put her hand over her mouth at the exposure of so much skin. But the healed woman seemed not to notice, for she walked a bit, turned, then spun and jumped. She danced for the joy of it. As she danced with arms and legs each following a different rhythm, I realized that the miracle of her healing also included being able to walk without the sort of physical therapy typically required after any kind of repair to muscle or bones.

  “The boy with the lamb took advantage of the attention drawn by the dancing woman to slip through several clusters of people, nearly reaching the teacher. The boy was, in fact, close enough that when a man grabbed him to hold him back, the teacher saw the confrontation. ‘Hey, where do you think you’re going?’ the man said.

  “‘I need to see the teacher.’ The boy squirmed in the man’s grasp.

  “The teacher intervened before the conflict escalated. ‘Bring him to me.’

  “Philip urged a couple of people aside to make a path for the boy. He gestured for him to approach the teacher. The boy glanced at the teacher and then followed Philip’s gesture, still mindful to lean to one side to avoid the man who had tried to stop him.

  “‘What do you want, young man?’ the teacher said.

  “‘My ewe lamb is crippled. She can’t keep up with the herd, and she even has a hard time feeding from her mother.’ He set the lamb on the ground to demonstrate. The lamb tottered, falling to her left.

  “Peter voiced a protest. ‘Teacher, all of these people are waiting, and this is only a scrawny little lamb.”

  “But the teacher put up his hand, even as a small chorus of indignant voices percolated around them. The teacher swept his gaze across the complainers, who grew quiet. He picked up the lamb and scratched her behind her ears. She nuzzled his hand. Then he simply set her back down and ruffled the hair of her young shepherd before moving on to the next person.

  “The little lamb stood with all four legs firmly planted, no sign of weakness. She gave a skip and made a move to bolt, so that the boy lunged to keep her from escaping. Several people laughed or exclaimed when they saw the little lamb healed. The boy shouted, ‘She’s all better now. She can walk! Oh, thank you, master, thank you.’ His tanned little face bloomed in a big, crooked-toothed smile, even as he struggled to get control of the spunky, gray lamb.

  “The teacher acknowledged the boy with a smile, even as he held his hand on the forehead of a man with a skin disease. The man was kneeling before the teacher in a position of prayer, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes closed, and his head raised toward the teacher. Along the left side of his face ran a dark red rash. For one second his whole face turned red enough to match the rash. When the flush faded, the rash faded with it. The thin, middle-aged man opened his eyes wide as his hand explored where the rash had been. He yelled a grateful exclamation and stood up, throwing his arms around the teacher’s neck.

  “Immediately, James and Peter stepped up to pry the man’s hands off of the teacher. They did this so automatically that it occurred to me that they certainly had seen how this kind of thing could get out of hand. How tired the teacher would get from healing so many in one day, especially if he had to embrace every one of them.

  “The teacher smiled at the man and clasped his hand, even as his two protectors pulled the grateful worshipper away from him.

  “An older man approached with a young woman, perhaps his daughter, leading him by the hand. It seemed that his sightless eyes had left him totally dependent. The teacher touched the man, who threw his head back and shouted, momentarily frozen in that position.

  “The teacher stepped to a little girl held by a man who may have been her father, her face bright red, her eyes watery and glassy. The teacher blew in her face with breath that seemed to contain the exact color the little girl’s face should have been. Now pink and fresh, she leaned her head on her father’s shoulder and smiled.

  “By this time, the blind man stood still, a confused look on his face. ‘What is it, father?’ his daughter said.

  “‘There is light, much more light than I have seen for a long time, but it’s all one color, or a swirl of colors, like water moving.’

  “‘Oh.’ Her voice dropped with apparent disappointment. ‘Maybe we should try again. Maybe he would touch you again.’

  “‘Yes, of course. He’s not finished; he just needs to finish.’

  “The teacher had ministered to several other people since touching the blind man; so the man and his daughter had to work their way through the crowd again, the father still needing her help to lead the way.

  “The teacher saw them approaching and turned to meet them. His relaxed smile and bright eyes seemed to say that he knew exactly why they approached a second time. Again, he received the blind man. This time with both hands he gently touched the man’s closed eyes. Then he was off to heal others, leaving the man exclaiming at what he saw, as he nearly pitched over backward.
His daughter laughed at him. He covered his eyes with his hands, and then moved his hands slowly away.

  “‘I can see my hands, but they don’t seem clear to me. They’re blurry when I hold them away.’

  “Evidently the man’s eyesight had improved markedly, but it was still not perfect. The healing was not yet complete.

  “Once more father and daughter wove their way through the crowd. Less in need of her help, he nevertheless hung on to her. The teacher stopped his progress to reach back and touch the man once more. The teacher didn’t even bother waiting for them to meet him face-to–face; instead, he reached over the shoulder of a man he had just healed of deafness and touched the not-so-blind man. The old man stopped stone still, his eyes fixed firmly on the teacher. The teacher lingered, allowing the man’s new sight to focus on him. The older man’s satisfied silence testified to the finality of his healing.

  “Then the teacher was on the move again, pausing to take some bread handed to him by Peter, followed by a quick drink of wine. While he was still chewing and swallowing, he faced a woman and two teenage girls. He wiped off a few crumbs, brushing his hands down the front of his robe. The two girls, probably in their late teens, stood on either side of the woman, who was about twice their age. She said, ‘Teacher, my name is Hannah, and these are my daughters.’

  “The teacher attended to her words and glanced at the girls.

  “‘They have been living with their aunt—my husband’s sister—in Jerusalem, for two years. That woman has given herself to the power of evil spirits so she can do divination and spiritual healing.’ Her tone escalated. ‘And she taught this to my daughters, exposing them to the power of these spirits.’

  “This information helped explain some odd behavior I had observed between the two girls. They didn’t look at each other, but their faces moved slightly, in the way that one does in a conversation. They appeared to be communicating with each other without words. This annoyed the teacher, it seemed, for he ordered, ‘Stop that.’

  “The command seemed to startle the two girls, who acted as if the teacher had caught them misbehaving. They looked at each other briefly and then lowered their eyes, avoiding the teacher’s.

  “The teacher addressed them. ‘Do you want to be free of these spirits? Do you choose to let go of this power?’

  “They checked with each other. ‘Yes,’ they said simultaneously.

  “The teacher nodded. But when he reached for their hands, both girls stepped back.

  “Their mother grabbed their arms. ‘You have to let him do what you’re asking him to do. Do you want to be free or not?’

  “The teacher shot the mother a sharp look. She released her hold and the girls returned to their places directly in front of the teacher under their own power.

  “Each girl let him take a hand. I had the impression that they had just attached themselves to a power source that was not entirely pleasant to touch. They had duplicate reactions. At the first touch, they stiffened and vibrated. Then they appeared to almost rise, as if blown by a wind coming from the teacher. Each girl clung to the teacher’s hand with one of her own, but the other limbs blew in that strange wind, such that they never seemed to have more than one foot on the ground at a time.

  “The teacher almost bellowed. ‘Do you want to be free of these spirits? Do you choose to let go of this power?’

  “It seemed that neither girl could speak, but they both managed to nod their heads haltingly against the force that radiated from the teacher.

  “At their recommitment to deliverance, the teacher said, ‘Go!’ And that word seemed sufficient to sever the girls from their illicit spiritual connection to each other, because immediately they both relaxed and landed with both feet on the ground, one hand still held by the teacher, the other hand loose by their sides, heads bowed, hair curtained over their faces. Only then did their separation manifest, as the girl to his left fell backward to the ground, and the other tipped forward. The teacher caught her and held her there for a second while she regained her equilibrium. The girl he held straightened, brushed her hair from her face then looked at her mother. The two lunged for each other and embraced then stooped to help the other daughter, who had collapsed into the arms of strangers standing behind her. She untwisted her gown and joined the smiling embrace of her mother and sister.

  “Stepping aside to leave the three women to their reconciliation, the teacher reached for a boy of about ten years with a crutch wedged under one arm. The boy looked up at him, locking on the smiling face of the teacher, even as he took away his crutch. The boy didn’t try to stop him; instead, he immediately stepped down on his injured ankle. His countenance brightened further as he put more and more of his weight on that foot, until he stood only on the formerly injured foot, his face like someone who is finally getting a joke at which everyone else is already laughing.

  “The teacher gave him a friendly pat and stepped past the boy to an older woman lying on a mat carried by four young women.

  “‘This is our mother,’ the one nearest to the teacher said.

  “The mother’s complexion was as pale as her linen sheets.

  “He leaned down and whispered, but not into the woman’s ear, rather into her mouth, as if breathing the words into her. The woman did not move as the teacher stood and looked around at the girls. They all drooped even as they stood, strands of hair escaping head coverings, hands strained to red and white as they clung to their corners of the stretcher. Again, he leaned over the motionless woman and spoke softly as before. This time her mouth moved in response. All four girls gasped at this sign of hope. As her color visibly brightened, they began to weep. Within a few seconds, her eyes fluttered open. She looked at the teacher as if she knew him. The teacher and the mother didn’t exchange any words, as if everything had already been said. She surveyed her girls. Her clear and steady eyes seemed to reassure them that they need fear no longer. Her smile wiped away their drooping weariness, but nothing could stop their tears. The teacher and his guards moved on as the four girls lowered the stretcher and helped their mother stand, watching her steadily regain strength.

  “Focused now on a man with a heavily bandaged hand, the teacher took hold of it as if it were healthy. The injured man pulled back at first, his instincts evidently still in charge. But then he stopped, seemed to assess his hand, raised his eyes to the teacher, and then pulled at the bandage.

  “One of the teacher’s followers offered to help the man as the teacher moved to the next person. Perhaps embarrassed by his dirty bandage, the man refused help, choosing rather to rip at it with his teeth.

  “The teacher stood before a man who cradled a little boy. The boy’s head and neck were swollen and red, such that he scarcely looked human. The teacher touched the boy’s taut skin with his fingertips. ‘Go away.’ He spoke with a quiet resolve.

  “The boy stirred, coughed, and blinked open his eyes; his color changed and the swelling lessened. By the time the teacher had moved to address the next person, the boy was already scrambling out of his father’s arms, looking curiously at the people around him. He held on to his father’s robe with one hand and inched away, following the teacher with his dark eyes.

  “A man with bandaged knees and using crutches hobbled into the teacher’s notice. His movements jerky and sporadic, he moved like a man whose long journey, and the long wait in the sun, had worn him out. His eyes, however, showed clear and expectant as the teacher approached.

  “‘You are healed,’ the teacher said, moving on to the next person. While the teacher touched and healed a little girl with a red and swollen ear, the man with bad knees walked in a small circle, loosely holding a crutch in each hand.

  “Just as the little girl received her complete healing, the man with the newly restored knees shouted, ‘Thank you!’ He tried hopping a bit, kicking each foot in turn. He looked around, locating the clearing where abandoned crutches and stretchers had formed a small mound. He headed that way, flinging his crutches o
nto the pile then beginning to remove his bandages.

  “Beyond the little girl with the inflamed ear, the teacher beckoned for a gaunt man in ragged clothes to step forward. He looked to be in his fifties, and was as thin as I could imagine a living person being.

  “‘What would you have me do for you?’ the teacher said.

  “‘My stomach is bad, I can’t handle food most of the time, and I can eat only certain things,’ the emaciated man said.

  “The teacher touched the man’s stomach. From the thin man’s reaction, you would have thought the teacher had punched him, because he doubled over, moaning. He dropped to his knees.

  “The next man mirrored the first one’s ragged testimony to a life of poverty. When the teacher approached him, he became agitated, his hands and feet beginning to churn, looking like he was trying to find an exit. When the teacher grabbed a flailing hand, instantly the man calmed. He appeared to be suddenly fixated on the teacher; all of his frantic motion and vigilance disappeared. He stared through renegade strands of dirty hair.

  “‘Shalom,’ the teacher said.

  “While the teacher remained focused on the second man, the first one stood up from the ground. He smiled the relaxed smile of a man thoroughly at peace. He looked at Peter, who stood behind the teacher. ‘You wouldn’t happen to have any food about you?’

  Peter located one of the teacher’s other followers, and pointed to the thin man. ‘Joanna, this man needs something to eat, more than anyone I’ve ever seen. What can we give him?’

  “Joanna smiled and reached into a basket of bread. She pulled out a round loaf and offered it to the hungry man. He accepted it with enthusiastic thanks.