The Gospel of the Twin by Ron Cooper Page B

said. “Let’s discuss this more tomorrow. Right now I think I’ll spend a few minutes in the river.” He went to the water’s edge and removed his clothes. Jesus looked thin and pale in the fading light, not the robust figure you’d expect of someone preparing to challenge an empire. He waded out until the water was waist-high, then went under. He emerged in the center of the river, a dark silhouette outlined by moonlight.
    Verse Five
    The next day, Jesus preached to the fifty or so who remained. Perhaps Mary was right—we were better with a dedicated few than with a large, skittish throng. Jesus had them energized and led them in a song, something about a kingdom of the heart. When he finished speaking, Mary, Judas, Andrew, and I pulled him in to continue our discussion about our options. Judas was making a half-hearted case for going to Jerusalem to establish some notoriety (he often darted between keeping ourselves inconspicuous and daring the world to ignore us) when a young man and woman approached him.
    The man appeared nervous and made a slight bow. “Teacher, my wife and I are troubled.” The woman did a little bow as well and kept her eyes on the ground.
    â€œWhat troubles you, friend?” Jesus asked.
    The man looked at his wife, who kept staring at the dirt. She seemed to shrink. “Teacher,” the man said, “we fear this place. We want to stay with you, but we think this place has become stained.”
    None of those who had already left had paused to ask for advice, to offer a reason, to express regret, or to condemn us to Hades. They had all scampered away as if they had just been passing through to begin with. I wondered if he and the woman had argued and decided to let Jesus settle their dispute.
    â€œStained?” Jesus asked.
    The man looked at me as if for the first time (it may have been for all I knew). He looked puzzled, then turned back to Jesus. “John’s blood. That’s why the others are gone.”
    Now Jesus looked puzzled. He looked at me, but I didn’t know what the man was talking about either. Superstitions of this sort were rather common, but not for an entire group of the size that had left. Ten or twelve more people had sneaked up close to listen.
    The woman raised her head. “Teacher, will you stay here, or do you plan to take us somewhere else?” Her voice was squeaky, like a tiny lamb’s.
    â€œDo you know of Bethsaida?” Andrew asked.
    â€œI have heard of it,” the man said.
    â€œI know of Bethsaida,” said one of the listeners. “Are you taking us there, Teacher?”
    Jesus looked at Andrew for a long, silent moment. Then he looked at me. He raised one eyebrow, almost imperceptibly, but I knew that he was asking me what I thought. I returned a slight smile.
    â€œYes,” Jesus said. “We shall leave in the morning.”
    The man and woman embraced. The other people standing nearby began chattering. A few clapped their hands. Others called to loved ones and sounded elated when they relayed the news.
    â€œThis is good,” said Mary, and she threw her arms around Jesus and kissed his cheek. “They are your followers now, not bewildered mourners for John.”
    Jesus laughed. “They may have more bewilderment to come.”
    The next morning, we set out for Bethsaida. We looked like a colony of outcasts, just large enough to draw attention.

Chapter Eleven
    Verse One
    Many years later, I left my homeland and became a world traveler. I suppose I was as much running from the failures of my past as I was seeking a new start on a future.
    I made it as far as India and, soon after my arrival there, I saw a man sitting by the street in the center of a small village. He was completely naked, his matted beard reached his waist, and his hair was plaited into many long braids that looked like worn ropes. His followers, perhaps a thousand, outnumbered the villagers. They sat