“It’s a great trick...nobody knows...I can get up at night and walk around... maybe there’s a way to get out of here.”
How often we have been taken for brothers because of our red hair; we trim our beards the same way; our faces are much alike except that mine is leaner. We were brothers as we talked, sitting on the stone floor, the chain between us.
John urged me to leave Capernaum.
“You can’t go on preaching there. Antipas has men on the lookout for you. He’s as cruel as Herod, you know that! Go in hiding for a while, Jesus. There’s no good in it if both of us end up in chains. Our ministry will fail.”
I had concealed bread and fruit in my clothes but John would not eat while I was there. I gave him a comb and he combed his beard and head, grimacing, laughing. I asked him to change clothes with me: “You can put me in chains,” I said.
An empty cell, stone walls, chains, the Dead Sea glistening dozens of feet below, a cold floor, a little food...what could I do?
“Are there other prisoners on this floor, John?”
“I never see them... I’m not allowed outside.”
“You know that we are trying to free you.”
“Don’t run any risks.”