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oing on from there with Peter and Andrew, he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee and his brother John. They were in a boat with their father preparing their nets. He well knew these men. They had been with him several times during the past year. Jesus called them. They too, left their boat and went with Jesus into the village. Zebedee, a man of some wealth and substance, looked after them, speechless.
When the Sabbath came, the residents of Capharnaum began to assemble on the large stone pavement where the synagogue also stood overlooking Galilee. The building was new having been only recently erected at the expense of one Flavius Marque, the centurion of the local detachment of Roman soldiers. During construction, Flavius himself could often be seen shirtless, laboring in the sun with mortar and pestle. On this Sabbath, Jesus entered the new structure and as was his custom, began to teach. Jesus never spoke as though he had spent days or weeks preparing a soliloquy. His knowledge of God and of things spiritual seemed so vast that he could speak extemporaneously for days without repeating himself once, or ever referring to notes. Interspersed in this messages were stories and anecdotes of his own personal experiences, his own struggles and interactions with the Father, and at times things dark and preternatural. During this particular oration, his thoughts turned to that mountain of starvation and his encounter with the evil one. He remembered his demeanor, his air of detached objectivity, his attitude of intellectual superiority, “You must be vigilant,” Jesus continued, “for the prince of darkness is sophisticated, subtle . . .”
“Arrrgh!” followed by the sound of loud retching. Jesus looked out into the crowd to see that someone had fallen. The people around him began to part, pushing their way backward in horror. The disturbance so severe that Jesus could not continue. Attention had turned from him to the sick man on the floor of the stone pavement. He left his place on the dais and entered the crowd to investigate. What he saw revolted him. The man on the floor had vomited. His mouth was coated in red foam tinged with yellow and green bile. His eyes glazed, angry and in pain, it seemed, beyond human endurance.
He opened his mouth and words spewed forth, although the man’s lips did not move. His mouth open, frozen grotesquely in a misshapen configuration, sounds issued forth guttural, screaming unformed in the manner normal to speech, “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are — the Holy One of God!” Whatever it was inside him could not make up its mind whether to speak in the plural or the first person singular. It seemed to the horrified standers-by that a chorus spoke, and then a leader, a representative of the rest. The man vomited again, violently emptying the contents of his stomach, mixed with bright, red blood on the white stone pavement.
The eyes of the Son of Man clouded with anger. His lips tight for battle, his visage ominous and totally unafraid, “Quiet!” he commanded as sternly and as forcibly as the word could be spoken. “Come out of this man!” The man began to shake violently and uttered a wailing howl, a shriek of unbridled agony, and feinted. “He is dead,” whispers among the crowd of worshipers. Jesus stepped forward, took a cloth and cleaned the man’s face and wiped his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, his breathing even and unlabored. The man looked up at Jesus in gratitude and consummate relief. The presence of evil was gone.
The dramatic change in the man astounded the onlookers. “What is this?” they said among themselves, “He commands evil spirits — with authority — and they obey him.” The day’s sermon was over. No one would be able to hear further. The people standing by parted as Jesus left the synagogue. The news spread quickly over the whole region of Galilee.
