“Master...let me follow you... I believe...let me be one of your chosen...let me tell others what you have done for me. I know about your ministry.” He kissed my robe. “When I heard you speak yesterday I tried to reach you.”
He urged me to stay at his home; perhaps he had heard me say that fox have holes and birds have nests but the man of God has no home. I warned Bartimaeus not to look back if he put his hand to the plough.
Lately I have not seen much of Judas. He refuses to visit me at Clibus’ home. I hear that Judas has quarrelled with the daughter of Pilate. Faithful to our group, he collects and disperses funds. Our group is increasing in number—committed to everyone. Some of us provide food, clothing and shelter.
A nomad group is famine stricken. The babies need sugar and salt and we have provided packets by way of a caravan.
ÿ
Clibus’
Through Clibus I have written a letter home. Mother will find someone to read it aloud. I don’t want Mother and Father to come here. They dislike the city. Father has been unable to work and needs to husband his strength. He must avoid danger.
Getting up at dawn I have been able to memorize lines from Horace, lines that help. The tiny garden helps. The children help. But when John’s cousin, Elihu, came, distortion returned as we talked of John’s imprisonment, torture, death. Elihu is a frail soul, so unlike John. He is so in need of encouragement. He tells me that a storm flooded homes in Nazareth. They did the best they could with shovels and baskets.
ÿ