Chapter Twelve
I
t was a journey Jesus made many times in his lifetime. Galilee to Judea, Judea to Galilee and back again. A traverse of about 90 miles depending upon origin and destination, a journey difficult though oft made. His first time to make the journey began at Nazareth in his mother’s womb and culminated in the open smells of a stable in Bethlehem. The first sensations of his new body were the not unpleasant smells of animals and hay. A lowly place, yet a place of warmth and welcome. Such is the nature of low places. May we all know such places, for it is there we are reborn.
Jesus remained in Sychar for two days before continuing his trek to Galilee. The town is situated not quite halfway from Jerusalem to the region surrounding the Sea of Galilee. Two and one half, maybe three more days travel. When Jesus and his friends finally reached their destination, the Galileans welcomed them. They had heard of all that he had done in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, from those who had been there. Hence, he stopped in Cana where he had turned water into wine.
Josiah ben Hadad, one of the officials of Herod’s court, happened to be visiting Cana at the time. His son lay close to death at Capharnaum not far away to the east and a little to the north, where he lived along the shores of the sea. Like most fathers, Josiah loved his son. Men — good men — are like that. They see more than a bit of themselves in their sons. They know the struggles of boys changing to men. They want to give them every possible chance and opportunity to grow up better than they. They labor to teach them self-reliance and their hearts break when sons are hurt or incapacitated. Like so many others, Josiah knew of Jesus. When he heard that Jesus had arrived in Galilee from Judea, he went to him and begged him to come and heal his son.
Jesus, however, was not in a receptive mood. He answered Josiah irritably, “Unless you people see miracles you will never believe.” Is that what Jesus really thought? Was he not aware of this man’s profound pain? Where is the compassion? Where is the love? Why such an insensitive and surly rejoinder? Is such a response commensurate with what we know of the qualities of gentleness, kindness and concern for one in pain?
No, he was not aware.
For all Jesus knew, Josiah was no more than another of Herod’s lackeys seeking a show of magic. Is it not remarkable that the Son of God was so myopic on this occasion? But Jesus was human. Completely so. Being such, it is not extraordinary that his limited powers, while on earth in human flesh would produce such events. It is not remarkable that he could be tired and irritable. He existed and lived in a human body, and was subject to all its frailties. Essentially, the body Jesus lived in while on earth, was no different than anyone’s. He was human. Completely so.
Surprised and nonplussed, Josiah pleads the more earnestly, “Sir, come down before my child dies.”
“Come . . . before my child dies!”
A father cannot speak more compelling words. In this town, in Cana, Jesus had turned water into wine. Much has been said of that event. It has been used as a premise for the creation of the universe — the creation of something with the appearance of age. But here, in mortal terms is a far more significant event. A father’s child is dying. With that child dies his hopes and dreams. Not in a selfish way. Not many fathers take mindless, self-absorbed, vicarious pleasure in the growth and development of their sons. They take joy in their son becoming an individual in his own right, in his own consequence, in his own persona. The impending death of Josiah’s son meant for him a frustration of the very purpose of God. How could God not care? How could this Man of God ignore him?
Despite his sublunary limitations, Jesus was arrested by Josiah’s desperate appeal. Recovering himself he said, “Josiah, it is alright. Be comforted. I know your heart. Go now, your son will live.” The sun had passed its zenith.
Josiah backed away, his eyes filling, bowed his head and left. He knew he had been heard. That had been all he wanted. That had been what he had hoped for. Now he would see. Was this man what everyone said he was? Was he who he claimed to be? He said my son would live. He cherished the thought. My son will live! As he approached Capharnaum, hoping, anticipating what he would find he saw men rushing toward him. Familiar men.
They were those in his employ. They had news. The boy lived! Josiah lifted his eyes to the sky and wept out loud. Recovering from wrenching paternal sobs he asked, “When did my son recover?”
“The fever left him yesterday at one in the afternoon.” Then this father realized that this was the exact time at which Jesus had said to him, “Your son will live.” So he and not surprisingly, his entire household believed. This was the second miracle that Jesus performed, having come from Judea to Galilee.
