An Imagining...

Let’s say you, as one of the original, early-called disciples, are sitting with Jesus, on a terrace, overlooking the town of Capernaum, the water, the whole of the Galilee. It is evening: the dusklight colors everything orange and purple; the smell of the breeze is strong with the freshness of the sea, below. Those sunset colors are reflecting, rippling, beautifully on those waters. You are sitting at a long outdoor table, finishing your dinner. The town below this terrace is also finishing its dinner: all is quiet. The darkness, subtly, starts to descend.

The mother-in-law of one of your fellow disciples, Simon called Peter, rises from the table; she goes inside and then returns with something sweet to finish out the meal. You watch her as she moves around the table, doling it out. She is a picture of vitality, hospitality, the joy of simply being alive—at noontime, today, she’d been thought to be nearing her death on her deathbed. Then Jesus—now sitting at the head of the table, laughing as, yes, He’ll take another cup of wine—walked into her home and, with a touch and a word, healed her. Right then; right there.

Next to Him—in fact, the very one who’d just caused Jesus to laugh at his well-timed joke—sits a man who, even now, you haven’t actually caught the name of. He is dressed in a tunic absolutely filthy, filled with holes; he looks like a streetcorner beggar who can’t get his act together… Earlier today,—just before the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law—this man had entered the synagogue, out of his mind with the evils of an inward demon. Jesus, with a look, with a word, then healed him just as completely as the woman now setting dessert on the plate in front of you.

After dessert—darkness. Just the sounds of the gusts and the distant splash of the water onshore. Everyone has that feeling of satisfaction: of a good meal and decent wine: they are quiet, enjoying the feel of the evening…

Until, first, one; then another; then two more; then, suddenly, tens, dozens, multiple-multiples of lamplights are visible down below at the edge of town. They look almost like fireflies at this distance. They are appearing, one by one, from within the houses along the sea’s edge; they then are gathering together at the western edge of the village. You and the other disciples, the man from the synagogue, Simon’s mother-in-law—and Jesus—all watch them start ascending this way. Their numbers narrow into a long, glowing, snaking line of lights as they start climbing the footpath that finds its destination upon this terrace…

Hours later—having struggled to stay awake—utterly tired out with the day and the food and the wine—you are on your way into the house to find a corner for sleeping. Crossing the threshold, you look over your shoulder.

Jesus—surrounded by the golden, glowing light of a hundred lamps all around the table—is still in the process of healing every single ailment of the town of Capernaum. He is listening to their requests; hearing their stories; rising and standing, kneeling and considering—He will not sleep until they all are free. And you are on your way to bed…