THIRTEEN
Tomorrow
30 A.D.
Jerusalem, Israel
The streets of lower Jerusalem, slender and flanked by homes squished together like bricks, were abnormally calm on that morning. Typically, the smells of cooking food, ripening fruit and steaming leather filled the air. But today, only the bright roses and dusty road reached the nose. Jerusalem, the capitol city of Israel, often buzzed like a beehive, but today-on the Sabbath, the day of rest-all was serene. Tom couldn’t decide if it was the kind of peace felt on a warm day at the beach, or an ominous calm before the storm. Either way, Tom was determined to use the lull in activity to spring what he believed would be the question to undo Jesus’s charade.
Much of Tom’s previous night was spent in deep thought and careful plotting, inspired by David’s insistence that he ask Jesus why bad things happen to good people. There had to be a way to catch Jesus, and Tom was sure he could find it. He hadn’t planned on taking all night, but Jesus was a crafty adversary and these things had to be carefully thought through. But his effort paid off and Tom was confident his plan was bulletproof.
That morning Tom insisted they take a walk through the streets of Jerusalem. The sun was rising, the streets were quiet and Tom would have all the time he needed to find a helper. Of course, he never mentioned his ulterior motive for taking a stroll, but the idea was quickly supported and they had set out, first thing that morning.
Tom’s feet quickly grew heavy and his eyes were sagging a bit, but his plan was masterful and the thought of executing it successfully gave him energy to walk the hard streets, though his body protested and cried out for sleep. He strode next to Jesus, in front of David and the other disciples. He was waiting for the perfect moment, the supreme opportunity. He knew that in the city, he wouldn’t have to wait long for the occasion to reveal itself. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Some coins for a blind man?” asked a decrepit man, whose body was soiled like a dust-covered rag. The man looked toward the sky as he spoke in the direction of the approaching footsteps. “Please, I hear so many of you. One of you could surely share some money, some food, something, please.”
This was it! Tom hustled forward and stood between Jesus and the blind man.
Jesus stopped walking and looked at Tom with an expression of expectation. The rest of the group slowed to a stop behind Jesus. David moved around for a better look at what Tom was doing, face crisscrossed with concern, but remained silent.
“Something troubles you?” Jesus asked Tom calmly.
“Explain something to me. Why do you allow this?” asked Tom, as he stabbed a finger at the blind man.
“What did he do to deserve this?” Tom said, and then he turned to the blind man and asked, “How long have you been blind?”
The blind man perked up, realizing he was being spoken to. He stood to his feet and stumbled toward the voice that had addressed him. “Since birth, Master.”
“Since birth,” Tom said, “What sin could he have done at birth to deserve this? Or maybe it was the sins of his parents? I’m not really sure how these sin things work.”
Tom waited, sure that his line of questioning would make Jesus stumble. Surely, this was the hardest question addressed to Jesus thus far. Tom’s mind raced with anticipation. He would finally outdo Jesus!
Jesus didn’t miss a beat.
“Neither this man nor his parents sinned. This happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no man can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world,” Jesus explained.
Tom stared, dumbfounded for a moment and said, “You lost me. What’s all that supposed to mean? Was that another parable?”
Jesus replied by spitting onto the dusty street. He bent down and rubbed the spit into the dirt, creating a small blob of oozing mud.
Tom worried that he had offended Jesus and that Jesus was planning to fling the mud at him. Tom took a step back and prepared to duck. Perhaps Jesus was growing impatient with Tom? Maybe his constant meddling with Jesus’s plans had gone on too long and Jesus was going to expel him? Maybe Jesus would lose his temper and strike him? Tom only wished it were true. That would surely do more to discredit Jesus then this dirty, blind man. He was both relieved and disappointed to see that the intended target for the mud was not himself, but the blind man.
Jesus took the mud and smeared it across the confused blind man’s closed eyes. Tom’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his nose crinkled with disgust. What in the world was Jesus doing?
“What is your name?” Jesus asked the blind man.
“Timothy…” the blind man said. Then the man’s eyebrows shot high and he sucked in a breath of air as though he had just been astonished. He spoke again, “Are you…are you Jesus?”
“Yes, Timothy,” Jesus said, “now go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”
Timothy smiled and grew excited, “Yes, Master!”
Timothy turned and began to hobble down the street. Jesus turned to John, one of the disciples whose kind eyes were hidden by thick eyebrows, and Peter. He motioned with his head toward Timothy. The two instantly reacted and moved to help the man on his quest to wash in the pool of Siloam.
“That’s it?” Tom asked, confused and slightly disturbed by the surreal event, “That’s your answer?”
“He’ll be back soon enough,” Jesus said, “Wait and see for yourself. Or maybe I should rub some mud on your eyes as well?”
“Riiight, the whole, “those with eyes that cannot see,” stuff again. I’m not blind. I can see fine.” Tom said, frustrated. “And I can see right through you.”
Jesus chuckled and began walking away. The other disciples followed him and smirked at Tom as they passed. David brought up the rear and joined Tom.
“Is it possible to get a straight answer from that man?” Tom asked, not expecting or desiring an answer.
“If you weren’t deaf as well as blind, you might have understood the answer,” David replied with a crafty smile.
Tom looked at David. “Funny.”
David smiled and laughed, clearly pleased with how things had played out.
Tom stayed quiet. He’d let David have his moment. This wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
After Timothy went to the pool of Siloam and washed as Jesus had instructed him, he ran up and down the now crowded streets shouting praises to God. For the first time in his life, he could see the sun, people’s faces and dirt. But what was more amazing was that he understood everything he was seeing. He knew a bird was a bird, though he had never seen one in his life. With sight came vision, with vision came understanding-as though he had been able to see since the day he was born.
Timothy’s loud praises didn’t go unnoticed for long. Like vultures to a kill, a small group of men called Pharisees, the keepers of the law, descended on Timothy. The four men, all dressed in extravagant purple robes, were led by Tarsus, an old man with knobby knuckles and a graying beard. They stepped in front of Timothy. “You say you are the man who earlier today was begging here, at this corner?” Tarsus asked.
“I am the man,” Timothy replied.
“How then were your eyes opened?” Tarsus asked.
“The man they call Jesus!” Timothy said, “He put mud on my eyes and told me to wash at Siloam. I did as he said and I can now see!”
“Where is this Jesus?” Tarsus asked with a tinge of disdain in his voice.
