The Gospel of the Twin by Ron Cooper Page A

complete loyalty from the people nonetheless. Now, my sense of destiny was much more concrete, no longer a fantasy of a just world that magically appears by the sweep of God’s hand.
    The record of my people demonstrates that historical change comes about through righteous leadership, through a Moses, a David, a Judah Maccabee, and now a Jesus. With the right people around him to fuel and direct that raw, God-infused energy, we could liberate and reshape our nation. Barren fields would be plowed and planted again. Vineyard fences would sag with fat grapes. Chickens would scratch in every yard. No more work to feed oppressors or support puppet rulers and a corrupt Temple. Or was I dreaming again?
    For the next few days, Judas, Andrew, and I kept the peace as best we could. Jesus spoke from the platform, urging calm and assuring everyone that John would return safely. Each day, more left. Judas, Mary, and I pleaded with Jesus to leave in case the soldiers returned and so we could take the crowd with us before it dwindled to nothing. He ignored us, despite his acknowledgment that he might be the next target and that we might have to build anew from the ground up.
    After a week, three young men who had trailed John and the soldiers to Tiberias came back to tell us that Herod had executed John. The crowd wailed, and most immediately left for their homes. I guess they had remained only because of the dim hope that John might return.
    â€œWhat shall we do, Brother?” I asked Jesus. We sat by the river in the cool early evening with Mary, Judas, and Andrew. “We could return to Nazareth, regroup. Take some time to think things through. Besides, I promised Mother that I would bring you home if we faced danger.”
    â€œAre we not at home wherever we find the poor in spirit?” Jesus asked.
    â€œThe poor in spirit ?” I asked. “I thought we were all about the poor in purse, the poor in hope. It seems that too many here were poor in courage. The few remaining will follow us home. We can come up with a plan and perhaps pick up some more followers along the way. We are behind you, Brother, but this place has lost its power.”
    â€œNazareth isn’t safe,” said Judas. “Sepphoris is probably still filled with Romans.”
    â€œCome with me to Bethsaida,” said Andrew. “It’s a quiet fishing village where the Romans rarely pester us. Yet the people there need some hope and will listen to you.”
    â€œWe’ve been to Bethsaida, Andrew,” I said. “It’s bigger than Nazareth and may be a good place to start. Brother, listen: The Romans took out John”—I felt a tremor in my gut as I uttered those words—“and it had exactly the effect they wanted. His followers have left or are leaving. Perhaps the good news is that we, you , probably do not appear to be much of a threat to them, but that’s because so few people have remained. Tomorrow, more will leave, and more the next day. If we leave now, at least many of those still here will come with us.”
    Jesus threw a pebble into the river. The splash startled something in the reeds, a fish or a bird. “Why would they go to Bethsaida?”
    â€œThey believe in you, Brother. You give them hope. But they associate this place with John. Without him, this river, this bank we’re sitting on, that stage where you speak, have grown feeble, like a sick tree that no longer produces olives. The young, inexperienced farmer hopes that the tree’s health will be restored and resists cutting it down, but he lets it infect surrounding trees. The wise farmer wields the axe and saves the orchard.”
    Jesus smiled and punched me in the shoulder. “Thomas, when did you begin spinning parables? I thought that was my job!”
    Everyone laughed. It was a needed release of tension and even seemed to make Jesus a bit more agreeable to our suggestion.
    â€œPerhaps you’re right,” he