This is It - Episode 5: The Adversary

And into the marvelous light, he rose. He opened his eyes, his mouth, his nostrils. Rucha fully inspired him. 

I know you must go, John said, embracing him.  He struggled to find the proper words. Now, you truly understand what and why I am. It is such with you, son of man and son of the holy one.

Yes, Yeshua replied, also struggling to find words. The light was dazzling his eyes, his mind, his heart. His entire frame was buzzing with energy, and he knew he had to get away from this place, all these people. He needed solitude. He needed rest. He needed reconnect with the gentle earth. Right now, he did not feel that connection.

Yes, you are right. I must go. I don’t know if I will see you again. Shlomo ‘aleykhun.

John embraced him, Peace be for you, also. He helped Yeshua up the riverbank, watched him as he gathered his cloak and bag. 

John watched him walk away.

Who will be next?

—

The desert stretched before him, and he just kept walking.  Whenever he found water, he drank. He had no food. He walked in the cool of the mornings, rested in the warmth of the afternoons, then continued to walk toward evening. At nightfall, he found places to stop, where he would rest or sleep fitfully until first light.

Many days passed in this way, too many to number. He thought about many things. He counted his footsteps as he went. He prayed to the holy one for guidance. As the days passed, the lack of food weakened him. 

One night, he had a dream.

In the dream, the Adversary came to him, smiling.

In a pleasing voice, the Adversary said, I can sense you are hungry. If you are indeed a son of the holy one, surely you could use magic to transform these stones into bread.

A pile of stones appeared between them. A smell like bread wafted from the stones. Yeshua’s stomach rumbled and hunger roared through his system.

Yeshua knew this dream to be a penultimate test, and his fevered brain ran to find the appropriate response. At last, as if a veil lifted, he saw the parallel of his desert wandering in the covenant days of Moses. 

A small voice inside his soul spoke the text so only he could hear it: And he humbled you, he gave you over to hunger, and he fed you with the manna, a food which you and your fathers had never known, so he could make you understand that people do not live by bread only; it is by every word spoken of the holy one that people live.

Yeshua heard his own wavering voice speak: Not by bread alone do I live, but by the word spoken by the holy one.

And in flash, the scene changed. The Adversary had placed him precariously on the outer ledge of a high parapet of the Temple. If you are indeed a son of the holy one, throw yourself from this height. Surely, angels of the holy one will come to your rescue if you slip and fall.

Fierce winds clawed at his clothes, and he could feel his toes curl over the ledge of the narrow parapet. Though he tried to grasp the sheer wall at his back, he felt himself slipping. 

But the small voice spoke another text: Do not tempt the holy one as you did in Massah. Instead, keep the commandments given to you by the holy one, keep the testimonies and the statutes as commanded of you; you were made to do only what is right and good in the sight of the holy one.

Through chattering teeth, Yeshua blurted out: It is written: Do not tempt the holy one!

And once again, with a flash of lightning, the scene had now become at a great height. Indeed, it was the highest place in the world, overlooking every shining kingdom of the earth. With unctuous voice, the Adversary put forth his last challenge: Worship me, and I’ll give you dominion over all of this. You’ll be able to do whatever you want with it all.

And Yeshua heard the words flow as if through his very blood: Beware lest thou forget the holy one, who rescued you from the land of Egypt, who released you from bondage. You will honor, serve and attest only to the name of the holy one.

And he heard himself yelling: Get away from me, fiend! It is written that we must honor and serve the one and only holiness!

And from this horror, fevered and shaken, he wrested himself to wakefulness.

On a rock nearby, someone had left a small gift of food and drink. There was no sign of the benefactor.

Slowly consuming the sustenance, he knew it was time to return. It was time to live and breathe the covenant to this generation, in service to the holy one by serving all people.

Strengthened by the offering of the departed stranger, he gave his heart and voice to prayer in the time-honored way, as he began his return:

Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad…

© 2020 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

A brief note about my literary exploration of the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth: I have undertaken this exercise having read, sung (in several languages), meditated and prayed on the contents of the Synoptic Gospels (as well as the Non-Synoptic Gospels) for at least 45 years. In that time, I’ve accumulated a bit of a library (which comes as no surprise to those who know me), and I try to follow modern scholarship. Here is a partial list of the authors and books that come to mind as I write these episodes:

Ballentine, Debra Scoggins, The Conflict Myth & the Biblical Tradition; Oxford University Press 2015

Erdman, Bart, various titles

Gaus, Andy, The Unvarnished New Testament; Phanes Press, 1991

Herzog, William R., Parables as Subversive Speech; Westminster John Knox Press, 1991

Louden, Bruce, Greek Myth and the Bible; Routledge, 2019

Tatian, Diatesseron; www.earlychristianwritings.com/diatessaron.html

Wajdenbaum, Philippe, Argonauts of the Desert, Routledge, 2011

Ward, Keith, The Philosopher and the Gospels, Lion Hudson, 2011

Yosef ben Maityahu (Titus Flavius Josephus), various writings

A Walk During A Time of Pestilence

On the evening of March 19^th, 2020, the Governor of California, Gavin Newsom, announced a shelter-in-place order, for the foreseeable future. This could be eight weeks—or more. 

This is—in case you have not heard or in case you stray upon this memory from some future time—due to a pandemic that threatens livelihood and life. A virus called corona virus called COVID-19. Non-essential workers have been told to stay home. 

Those who work with energy, food, medicine, medical treatment, in-home supportive and other social services are deemed essential and exempt from this order. 

Strangely, I happen to fall into the essential group, as I work for the social services agency of a large county in the San Francisco Bay Area. Some people in this agency are working from home. Some have compromising health issues. Others have opted to stay home with pay.

I have opted to work. The office space that I work in is remote and my job is public facing mainly by phone. So far there is no indication that the contagion is present. I have found, during my time working for the County, that the workers are extremely considerate and careful when it comes to health. I have worked for the county since the mid-term election, and have been illness-free, in that time. This could, of course, change; given the virulent nature of this virus, health is not a given.

I ply a simple path, the same every day, Monday through Friday. From house to vehicle, I drive the nearly deserted streets to where the offices are located. Before I leave my car, I pull on gloves. 

(So far, I am not wearing a mask. I see many wearing flimsy masks that look like they have been worn for weeks; often, these masks are worn incorrectly.)

I exit the vehicle, lock it behind me and approach the entrance of the building. I have a few items in my pocket, and I check to make sure I can readily pull them out of my pocket. One of these is a simple bike repair tool, procured from a dollar store, that is a flat piece of metal, with cut-outs of all the wrench sizes appropriate for a bike. Either end has an open wrench that makes a good hook to pull open a door or file drawer, to push down and pull a standard handle. The other item is a AAA battery, which I use on any touch screen, from photocopier to ATM to store checkout register.

Using the bike tool, I enter the building, take the elevator up to the secure floor I work in, and use my keycard to enter. Signing in, I then go to my cubicle. I remain there for most of the day. Before the shelter-in-place, I would go on walks, run an errand at the grocery store or pharmacy. Now, I eat fruit for lunch everyday, at my desk. Sometimes I have a book to read. Other times, I write. Most of the time, I am glued to the news.

The usually bustling office is much more empty than usual. The unit in which I work is small and friendly—normally, we are chatty and share hugs. These days, we have to keep our distance, but the banter is there.

I cannot say that we are afraid. We are not specifically on the front lines. But we work in social services—others in the large department areon the front lines. We are given daily reminders of safe distancing and other updates.

When 5pm rolls around, I log out of the computer, gather my bag, put on my outer garments and gloves and retrace my steps back to the auto, driving directly home.

Last Saturday and today, I did some chores and writing in the morning. In the afternoon, I took a walk, planning to run an errand along the way. I headed to the beach; I live on an island. There is a bird sanctuary on the south-east shore, and a stretch of beach goes all the way along the length of the island to the west. Gazing across the bay, very prominently in view is the Grand Princess cruise ship that brought stricken passengers to our Bay. Some of these passengers have succumbed to this dread virus. 

The shopping areas had people lined up to enter stores, first come first serve, almost like war-time ration lines. The only retail businesses open at that time were the fueling station, the grocers, the office supply, the pharmacy and some food court places, for takeout/pickup. 

I crossed through the shopping center and crossed the street to access the beach. Today had been rainy, but the afternoon was dry, if cloudy and cool. There were fewer people today; last week, on a warmer Saturday, many people were there.

Many other solitary walkers, like myself, were passing at safe distances, silently. There were a few couples, a few parents with kids. 

As I strode down the beach, I noted the scarcity of people was in contrast to the bird population. I noticed something about the birds that I had actually seen many times before; they tend to hold themselves apart from others at a relatively similar distance. When you see a lot of birds on a power line, it will surprise you that they seem to have the same amount of space between them, all down the line. People do not congregate in the same way as birds.

I also noted the air, fresh from the rain, was especially fresh. The sky looked pristine. There was no traffic noise, although there were cars in the lanes, at intervals.

I went all the way to the end of the beach, and turned to make my way back. There were a few runners, and one man was trying to teach his girlfriend fly-fishing. There were a few people talking on phones, but it was mostly subdued and quiet.

This was the kind of quiet I had not experienced since the days following 9/11, when all the planes were grounded. Today, the planes were not grounded, but there were few of them going up and landing.

When I ran out of beach, I crossed up to the sidewalk. There was a woman taking a photo of a building across the street; I crossed behind her, so as not to obstructed her photo, and commented that I was doing so. She responded with a smile, and we fell into a conversation, with eight feet of air between us.

She is from South Africa. She is a registered nurse. Her work is with pre- and post-operative heart surgery patients. She told me that she had not been working since the end of February, as the hospitals were trying to dial down to all but the most acute needs. She told me that she was going back this Thursday, for the first time since the end of February. She also told me that her colleagues had been in touch, and the mask situation is dire. The nurses are being given masks and told to use them for as many as four days running. The supply cabinets are locked. She doesn’t know what to expect when she returns to work, but she was taking this afternoon to take photos of places that had changed since her sister visited, a number of years ago, from South Africa; she wanted to send the photos to her sister over her phone.

We exchanged some choice thoughts on the political situation that bears directly on this crisis. She laughed and said, “Don’t get me started on that—I find myself talking to the television, even yelling at it, as if that would do anything.” She did say that it was very possible there would be strikes soon by healthcare workers, if the situation with protective gear does not improve radically and rapidly.

We parted with smiles and best wishes to one another. 

I cannot tell you how profoundly grateful I was for that contact, that conversation. We are all vulnerable, right now. Vulnerable to this black swan that is a Trojan Horse. Vulnerable to the wrong thinking of the federal government with a buffoon at its head, whose only concern is his ego, all else be damned. We are rendered vulnerable to a virus, to stupidity, callousness and selfishness. We are vulnerable to fear. 

Rather than take the street, I walked path that crosses in front of beach homes adjacent to the bird sanctuary, and then I made to cut through a beach access to the street when I saw the most beautiful tableau.

At the corner of the property beside the beach access path was growing a large Pride of Madeira plant, in full bloom and covered with the distinctive purple/blue cone flowers. Underneath, a ground squirrel stood on his haunches—I could swear—in appreciation of the shade of the plant, maybe even the scent of the air or the plant he was sheltering under. Above the squirrel, bumblebees were buzzing all over the flowers, gathering pollen, and a red-throated hummingbird supped at the blossoms.

To think, I might have rushed around that corner without seeing any of this.

But, there it was, and there I was, too—this was a perfect moment. It was a moment of the most perfect and profound peace. It was a moment to which I was witness and participant. The squirrel sat there, still and content. I think it may have seen me, but I don’t know. When the hummingbird flew away, with the bumblebees following in its wake, the squirrel stirred and retreated into a deeper shadow, then into a bower.

We are living through an unprecedented crisis. Even in such a crisis as this, there is beauty to witness, beauty to make, peace to experience. 

In beauty may you walk.

© 2020 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

This is It - Episode 4: The Blessing

The crowd parted, and he approached the water’s edge.

John beheld him with sudden and certain recognition.  You’ve come!

Yes. I am here to be immersed by you.

John hesitated, his fevered eyes boring deep into the eyes of this man. But it is for you that I have been waiting.

Yeshua closed his eyes for a moment, softly taking in a breath of air.  This brought clarity to the moment, to this meeting. When he opened his eyes, he smiled. I am here for your gift. I am here to be immersed, to sanctified by your service.

Surely, said John, feet firmly planted in the river, the roles should be reversed. I crave your blessing, cousin!

You are blessed and you are blessing. I come to be immersed by you, to be renewed and sanctified toward the fulfillment of my own calling.

While they were speaking, soft white clouds had gathered overhead, offering the people a coolness and shade from the warmth of the midday sun.

He didn’t know why, but tears gathered in John’s eyes. He felt a profound sense of being at a time and place before time and places, within a presence greater than any standing here at the riverbank. This was meant to be, and he knew it, and he was humbled. 

He reached out his hand.

Come to the water.

Yeshua dropped his cloak and bag on the embankment, stepped down into the water and waded to where John stood.

Tell us what you want to turn away from. Then, fall backward into my arms. I will dunk you under the water, and you shall rise up, clean in body, mind and spirit, in thought, word and deed. This is how you let the holy one know you are awake to your calling.

Yeshua spoke only one word. Pachad, he said, as he let himself go into John’s arms.

And John whispered in his ear, as he gently lowered him into the river, Be not afraid.

And then a gentle sprinkling of rain fell from the puffy clouds on all who were gathered there. 

And then the clouds opened to reveal the fullness of the sun. 

And then all were suddenly bathed in rainbow colors.

And then John lifted him up into the marvelous light.

© 2020 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

A brief note about my literary exploration of the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth: I have undertaken this exercise having read, sung (in several languages), meditated and prayed on the contents of the Synoptic Gospels (as well as the Non-Synoptic Gospels) for at least 45 years. In that time, I’ve accumulated a bit of a library (which comes as no surprise to those who know me), and I try to follow modern scholarship. Here is a partial list of the authors and books that come to mind as I write these episodes:

Ballentine, Debra Scoggins, The Conflict Myth & the Biblical Tradition; Oxford University Press 2015

Erdman, Bart, various titles

Gaus, Andy, The Unvarnished New Testament; Phanes Press, 1991

Herzog, William R., Parables as Subversive Speech; Westminster John Knox Press, 1991

Louden, Bruce, Greek Myth and the Bible; Routledge, 2019

Tatian, Diatesseron; www.earlychristianwritings.com/diatessaron.html

Wajdenbaum, Philippe, Argonauts of the Desert, Routledge, 2011

Ward, Keith, The Philosopher and the Gospels, Lion Hudson, 2011

Yosef ben Maityahu (Titus Flavius Josephus), various writings

Together, Alone

We hike along a way
we’d usually share abreast,
but right now, we each move
together, alone.

The distance is forced and,
as two pendulums in motion would,
we try to match our steps,
try to meet in mind,
mindful of the gap.

A contagion we can’t see
threatens to separate us;
to divide and conquer
by means of infection
is the metaphor of this age.

This disease might save us,
if we could embrace a truth
writ large by the threat:
we live webs of intersections;
as we go, it is together, all one.

© Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

Let’s make foresight 2020

This Is It - Episode 3: Finding Purpose

He’d returned from being on the road. He’d been traveling, observing, learning, and teaching. From time to time, he’d return to see how things were at home. Each time, it seemed things had further deteriorated. 

The occupation was putting more and more strain on the people. The average person found it difficult to make ends meet, as more and more taxes were being levied—some to fund pleasure palaces and cities meant to honor men who had no honor. Building the city of Tiberius over the bones of the dead, not good—unclean. No pious person could live there.

Having made his way out into the world, he learned that there were more ways of worship than what Jerusalem offered; the farther you traveled away from the Temple, the greater chance of discovering a new sect of people who proclaimed to know better, more perfect ways of divine observance. And then there were the Greek gentiles and all their gods—and their philosophical thinking. Everyone was competing to be “right.” 

But more immediately, having returned home for a visit, the family spoke to him about their growing concern for cousin John, his ministry and mission. He had not seen John much over the years; as an adult, John had become a bit odd and estranged from immediate family. He’d found he couldn’t live indoors, and had left town to live in the countryside. And then he’d found a purpose—and now had a following. The family feared his purpose would make him a target. Perhaps an intervention was necessary.

And so he had been shadowing John, at the behest of family, to see what it was all about, to hear what John had to say. He found that with much of John’s talk, he was in full agreement. 

Daily, he had witnessed the same corruption John spoke of, impinging on the lives of the people. It wasn’t enough that the Roman occupation was burdening the people with new taxes and gentrification, but there were things going on in Jerusalem, even at the Temple, that were disquieting to him. Human nature, business as usual, quid pro quo—whatever you wanted to call it, the world seemed utterly at odds with what the scriptures taught was “the way it should be.”

What disturbed him personally was that people were complacent in their powerlessness, rote in their observances and treating their mundane daily tasks as a burden rather than a blessing—or worse, as an emptiness rather than a fulfillment. It was easier to point fingers of blame than it was to find solutions from within the foundations of faith. The politics of everyday secular life was dividing people, and the life of the sacred was begging for renewal.

He watched as John helped people to renew their covenant, to acknowledge their need for healing, to turn back to the holy one. Person after person walked away refreshed and with new purpose. For how long that might last, who knew—but in the moment, with the support of the crowd, this was a shining moment in the life of a soul.

And a feeling welled up in his own soul, a need not to intervene, but to be a part of this movement and in support his kinsman, John. 

This, he felt to his core, was the sign he himself had been waiting for, in order to make his own purpose manifest.

So, he stepped forward, out of the crowd, and said, Me. Take me. I’ll be next.

© 2020 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

A brief note about my literary exploration of the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth: I have undertaken this exercise having read, sung (in several languages), meditated and prayed on the contents of the Synoptic Gospels (as well as the Non-Synoptic Gospels) for at least 45 years. In that time, I’ve accumulated a bit of a library (which comes as no surprise to those who know me), and I try to follow modern scholarship. Here is a partial list of the authors and books that come to mind as I write these episodes:

Ballentine, Debra Scoggins, The Conflict Myth & the Biblical Tradition; Oxford University Press 2015

Erdman, Bart, various titles

Gaus, Andy, The Unvarnished New Testament; Phanes Press, 1991

Herzog, William R., Parables as Subversive Speech; Westminster John Knox Press, 1991

Louden, Bruce, Greek Myth and the Bible; Routledge, 2019

Tatian, Diatesseron; www.earlychristianwritings.com/diatessaron.html

Wajdenbaum, Philippe, Argonauts of the Desert, Routledge, 2011

Ward, Keith, The Philosopher and the Gospels, Lion Hudson, 2011

Yosef ben Maityahu (Titus Flavius Josephus), various writings

This is it - Episode 2: Who Are You?

Word got around; John’s following had grown. Many were coming to repent and be renewed in the waters of the Jordan.

Word even got to the Temple. This tevilah he was offering people, what was he promising it would do—was he being a mediator? Was his preaching in line with Torah? Talk that the world was soon to end had some people on edge. Could this guy be a new prophet or was he masquerading as one in order to gain money or political traction? Whatever the case, the man was charismatic and had in short order amassed quite a following.

The situation was deemed worthy of investigation, so the Temple sent a small delegation to investigate the matter. In the main, they could support anyone’s right perform ritual cleansing, but they wanted to know what was this person’s authority to lead such ceremonies.

The morning after they arrived at Bethabara, they announced themselves and moved through the crowd to meet the man, on the pretense of seeking the immersion for themselves. After introductions had been made, the spokesman asked, We’ve heard you’re telling everyone the world is coming to an end. Who are you, that you can tell this to people? Do you proclaim yourself to be the messiah?

He moved out of the water and joined them on the riverbank. 

He answered: No, I am not the messiah.

Another of the delegation asked: What are you, then? Are you Elijah, returned from the clouds? 

There was a short burst of nervous laughter from some in the crowd, but others were offended; they quietly voiced objections to the question. By the tone, they knew it was intended to belittle someone they respected.

He answered: I think you know that I am John. No. I am not Elijah.

One of the priests asked, Are you a new prophet?

He answered: No.

The head of the delegation had hoped for more substantive information from this interview. So far, they’d really learned nothing they didn’t already know, and the man’s demeanor seemed calm and reasonable. He asked, So, John, who are you? We need to give an answer to those who sent us. 

He thought, for a moment, before responding. 

Mine is that voice calling from the wilderness “Repair the pathways to the almighty!”

Another of the group asked: Why do you offer the immersion rite, if you are not messiah, Elijah returned or a prophet? Tell us about yourself and why you make your mission here, in the wilderness.

At this challenge, the crowd hushed.

Brood of vipers! What wind sent you blowing from the coming fury! Where is the fruit of your repentence? Don’t hide behind Abrahamic lineage; the holy one can turn even these river stones into sons and daughters for Abraham. The ax is readied at the root of the trees; those that don’t produce will be chopped down and burned for fuel! 

The delegation had had enough. They began to move away. This man and his talk were no threat to their authority; even if it was an affront, his actions were not impious.

One from among the followers asked: What should we do to be saved from this time of trial you’re talking about?

Those who have should share with those who have nothing. Tax collectors should not take more than is owed. Soldiers should not extort or falsely accuse people.

They waited expectantly for more.

Look, you want to know why I’m here. This is why: I’m simply here to baptize the repentant with water. But someone is coming who’s so much more powerful, I am not fit to carry his sandals. This one will baptize with holy spirit and with fire. His wheat will he gather to the silo, but the chaff he’ll burn with unquenchable fire.

He stepped back down into the river. 

Who is next?

© 2020 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

A brief note about my literary exploration of the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth: I have undertaken this exercise having read, sung (in several languages), meditated and prayed on the contents of the Synoptic Gospels (as well as the Non-Synoptic Gospels) for at least 45 years. In that time, I’ve accumulated a bit of a library (which comes as no surprise to those who know me), and I try to follow modern scholarship. Here is a partial list of the authors and books that come to mind as I write these episodes:

Ballentine, Debra Scoggins, The Conflict Myth & the Biblical Tradition; Oxford University Press 2015

Erdman, Bart, various titles

Gaus, Andy, The Unvarnished New Testament; Phanes Press, 1991

Herzog, William R., Parables as Subversive Speech; Westminster John Knox Press, 1991

Louden, Bruce, Greek Myth and the Bible; Routledge, 2019

Tatian, Diatesseron; www.earlychristianwritings.com/diatessaron.html

Wajdenbaum, Philippe, Argonauts of the Desert, Routledge, 2011

Ward, Keith, The Philosopher and the Gospels, Lion Hudson, 2011

Yosef ben Maityahu (Titus Flavius Josephus), various writings

This is It - Episode 1: At the River

Though he lived alone, he was never alone. Nature was his home, true, but people never left him alone there. They followed him around. It was because of the things he said, strange things, some thought. People wanted to know what he was all about. 

The message was simple, and always the same. It was a message from before time, from before sky and before earth and before oceans. It had formed itself in his mind from a dream he could vaguely remember, from deep in his childhood. As it was so like some of the sayings he had been taught of the prophets, he knew from where it had come and that it was truth. 

The message of the dream obsessed him to the point that it was all he could think, all he could say, all he could do. He knew that he had to give the message away, that he could not keep it to himself. Ultimately, it was this message that made him go out into the world. 

This is it, he said to all within earshot, the dominion is at hand, and you will be judged on your actions, as well as all the thoughts and words that led to them. Regret your thoughts, words and actions that are selfish and immoral; return to the bosom of the most high. Lighten your soul by doing good, being kind, and sharing.

One day, during a rare instance of hiking alone in the wild, he came upon a spring. He felt dirty, tired and thirsty. 

He’d always understood water, loved water. This was so ever since boyhood, when he fell out of a fishing boat into the sea, and suddenly knew how to swim. No one taught him; he just knew how. 

At this moment, he plunged his head in the spring. Water was the way through the muck and mire, the way to be refreshed and renewed. He reveled in the coolness and wetness of the fresh, fresh water. When he rose, the feeling of the soft breeze over his wet face was like a blessing, likewise the trickle of water rolling down his body.

That was where and when he heard the voice. It was not a big voice, but a very small one. It surprised him that he could hear this tiny voice. It said: You are here baptized, for your heart and soul long for goodness in the world. This makes me happy. Share the blessing of your friend, water.

After that, he couldn’t bear to be inside. He stayed outdoors, close to the land and water, where he found sustainable nourishment from insects, berries, flowers, herbs and honey. He wore simple clothes he fashioned for himself. And he talked to the stones and the plants and to the creatures of the wild. People heard his talk, as well, and they followed him, to see what might happen next. Some thought he was crazy; he didn’t care. He knew he had to talk his talk, so that is what he did.

One day, at the riverside, while he was talking his talk to all that would listen, someone asked him, How will the holy one know I’ve changed in my heart and soul?Will you speak for me?

That stopped him short. He fell silent. Surely, he could not speak for others.

Then he heard the voice, again; that one from the spring, the small one. He heard it even in the midst of this noisy knot of people.

Share the blessing of your friend, water, with everyone. As this was the sign for you, it is the sign for them, too – and for me.

So, to the one who had asked, he said, Come, walk with me into the river. 

The person hesitated, and the gathered group held their collective breath. What would happen next?

Do you admit to wrong ways of thinking and speaking and doing, to these assembled people and to the most high?

Yes, said the penitent one.

Take my hand. Come wade with me. Tell us about the bad things you want to turn away from. Then, I will dunk you under the water, and you shall rise up, clean in body, mind and spirit, in thought, word and deed. This is how you let the holy one know, and how you awaken to a new life for yourself.

When that person rose up, refreshed as if new, all could seethe change. And they wanted to be reborn to goodness, as well.

And so, in part, that is how the life of this particular person found it’s bloom.

© 2020 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com 

A brief note about my literary exploration of the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth: I have undertaken this exercise having read, sung (in several languages), meditated and prayed on the contents of the Synoptic Gospels (as well as the Non-Synoptic Gospels) for at least 45 years. In that time, I’ve accumulated a bit of a library (which comes as no surprise to those who know me), and I try to follow modern scholarship. Here is a partial list of the authors and books that come to mind as I write these episodes:

Ballentine, Debra Scoggins, The Conflict Myth & the Biblical Tradition; Oxford University Press 2015

Erdman, Bart, various titles

Gaus, Andy, The Unvarnished New Testament; Phanes Press, 1991

Herzog, William R., Parables as Subversive Speech; Westminster John Knox Press, 1991

Louden, Bruce, Greek Myth and the Bible; Routledge, 2019

Tatian, Diatesseron; www.earlychristianwritings.com/diatessaron.html

Wajdenbaum, Philippe, Argonauts of the Desert, Routledge, 2011

Ward, Keith, The Philosopher and the Gospels, Lion Hudson, 2011

Yosef ben Maityahu (Titus Flavius Josephus), various writings