H
e watched the rat nibble tentatively at a crust of molded bread. He had gagged when he had tried to eat it. It was hard and crumbled into powder when his teeth had bitten into it. The water they had given him had the faint smell of urine. He did not have to imagine what the cup had been used for. Though his mouth was dry, he spat on the cold, damp stone floor and found himself wondering idly where they had quarried the rock. What I would not give for a cool mountain breeze at this moment, wafting over a flowing stream filled with fish! His mind briefly rested upon the naked girls he had seen bathing in such a stream. What I would not give . . . he allowed himself to envision them once again, and then catching himself, ashamed, forced his thoughts elsewhere.
“Baptist!” It was the gruff, no nonsense voice of the jailer. His eyes appeared through the sliding peephole in the door of his cell. Heavy, thick, black eyebrows. The man had one arm, the other lost in a battle in the arena with another gladiator. He had lost the battle, but the crowd pleaded for his life because he had fought well. Herod agreed. His gladiator days were over, so he had been assigned jailor duty. A humiliating task for a warrior, so he took his frustrations out on his charges. His brutality was legend. Yet, John had befriended him. “This is my kingdom,” waving his thick black arm at the surroundings. “I do what I choose. Not even Herod questions me. I take life when I choose, I torture when I choose, I let live when I choose. You will live, Baptist!” He said it like he spit. “You will not live long because that royal bastard despises you. But if there were water here, I would let you baptize me!” No small concession from this man.
“Baptist!” he yelled again. “You have visitors!”
The two men were allowed to sit with John while they conversed. “He is preaching in every village in Galilee. Hoards follow him from town to town.”
“He must be Messiah,” said John despondently. “Certainly I never commanded such a following.” The prophet paused for a moment then buried his face in his hands. “When I baptized him, I saw . . . I thought,“ his words trailed into silence. And then, “Markus, Jannai,” the black shadows that were his eyes brightened slightly, “You should have seen it. A magnificent, white dove descended out of nowhere and sat upon his shoulder. And the voice . . “
”What voice?”
John did not answer. He seemed lost in despondency again. After a few moments he shook his now matted hair negatively and muttered, “I thought he was the One.” He got up from where he squatted on the floor and stared at the wall disconsolately, “I guess I was wrong.”
Several moments passed. The two men didn’t know what to say. They sat with the heartbroken prophet unable to speak. Jannai broke the silence. Since he was the more reticent of the two, it came as a surprise to hear him say, “I think you are wrong, my teacher. Your heart is so filled with pain that it has colored your judgment.”
John turned on him, fire in his eyes, “Then go to him! Since you think him so genuine,” the bitterness in his voice reverberated against the barren walls of the dungeon. You could hear rats scurrying away at the noise. “Ask him plainly, Are you he that should come or should we look for another? Leave no doubt. Then come back here and report to me!” The two men unconsciously clenched their teeth in embarrassment for their master. “And while you are at it,” said John shaking, “ask him why he is there and I am here!” The two men turned to leave, the guard having come at the sound of John’s raised voice. The door opened and they exited. As they went out they heard him scream “Ask him why the prophets of God suffer humiliation!” his voice broke into sobs.
Markus and Jannai found Jesus on the side of a Galilean hill, as usual, surrounded by a multitude. Sympathizing with their teacher, Markus remarked to his companion, “Holding court again. He seems to thrive with the attention.” Their frame of mind quickly changed however when they saw Jesus healing the diseased and giving sight to the blind. “He is from God,” said Jannai. “He could not do these good things otherwise.”
They came and stood where Jesus was so that he could not help but notice them. “We are disciples of John,” spoke Markus.
“Yes?”
“He suffers in Herod’s prison.” A pained expression on the face of Jesus. “He weeps,” said Jannai. “I think he is afraid. I think he fears his mission on earth is over, that he is of no more use to God. He is surprised and hurt that his life should end this way.”
“He feeds the rats his crusts of bread,” said Markus, an edge in his tone.
Jesus glanced at him and lowered his eyes. He turned, took a few steps to a rock whereupon he sat. He seemed stunned and sick at the news of his cousin.
After a moment of contemplation he said, “Go back and tell John what is going on here. Tell him what you have seen and heard. Tell him about the blind, the lame, the lepers, the deaf. Tell him the dead are raised and the message of the Father’s love and redemption is taught to those in affliction. Tell him all these things. Comfort John. Tell him that I am indeed who I say I am and not to be afraid.” Jesus paused long enough for the two men to think that he had finished. They nodded their heads in assent and turned to leave. “And tell him,” spoke Jesus, “that I suffer with him. Tell him that my heart and my spirit are one with his. Tell him I love him.”
There were some of us who formerly sat at the feet of John. As the two men left, Jesus turned again to us and said, “When you went out to hear John preach in the desert, what did you go out to see? A weed swaying in the wind?” His lips pursed into a grim smile. As anyone who had seen him knew, John was no swaying weed. “Did some of you go out to see a man dressed in fine clothes?” Again, Jesus blanched at the thought. John’s apparel was a contradiction to anything ‘fine.’ “Those who wear expensive clothes and indulge in luxury are in palaces. But what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes John was a prophet, and more than a prophet. John is the one about whom it is written: ‘I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ I tell you that among those born of women there is no one greater than John; yet, the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than John in. His work is done. And he doesn’t understand why. No man who serves God ever is assuaged of the hunger to continue to do so, or to do so in a larger way than he has ever done. It is a deeply troubling pain. He doesn’t realize his station in the eternal kingdom, or that he approaches the hour when the Father will reward him beyond his imagination.
“Ordinary people, tax-collectors and many others went to be baptized with John’s baptism. By doing so, they honored my Father. But the Pharisees and the doctors of the law refused to be baptized. By doing so, they dishonored my Father. So from the days of John the Baptist until now, the invitation of God to all mankind is being preached. When I am no longer with you, it will continue to be preached in the lives of all who believe. This has not and will not occur without a struggle. From the day of John the Baptist until now, God’s family and his messengers have suffered violence. What the Father’s enemies cannot take by persuasion, they attempt by violence. They shall not succeed.
“The prophets of old have continued until the time of John. He is the final one. He is the summation of all the prophets. And if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who was to come.
“To what shall I compare this generation alive today? It has all the spiritual sensitivity of children arguing with each other. Children who say, ‘If you don’t play by my rules, I will take my trinkets and go home.’ Like children sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another taunting,
‘We played the flute and you could not dance.
We screamed at you and you did not listen.’
“John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine, and you think he is odd; much too eccentric to speak for God. Instead, you say he is demonic. The Son of Man came both eating and drinking, and you say, ‘This man doesn’t follow the rules. He eats what he wants when he wants. He is a glutton, a drunkard who cultivates friendships with ‘worldly’ people. He is much too worldly to speak for God.’ When God’s prophets do not fit your agenda, you pout and sulk like children. There is no mystery in this. History continues to repeat itself. Children will always be children. If you have the ears to hear this, then God help you to hear it.”
