Martin Fieber - He Who Returned

That was the reason he always had the flute with him. Especially Simeon and his buddies laughed about him for playing it so often. They claimed it was only something for girls to do. On the other hand the girls were very fond of his flute-playing. It never took long till they gathered around him and began listening to the melodies he played.

Today however he went directly to the spring which was located a little outside of the village. He found a shady spot underneath a carob tree. He noticed that fears were prominent among his thoughts again today. Perhaps his mother was right and he should tell Joshua of his fears. He placed the flute against his lips, closed his eyes and simply played whatever cam to mind. As usual his thoughts became lighter, the dark fog around him dissipated and his soul felt more joyful.

Suddenly he heard rustling nearby. Jesus opened his eyes and saw Rachel, who had approached him very quietly. Neither of them spoke a word. She sat down next to him and the tree. Jesus began playing the flute again. Holy silence and peace surrounded the two and they enjoyed this wonderful moment together.

Jesus lowered the flute and cast his gaze into the distance, toward Mt. Tabor. “Playing the flute gives me great joy and makes my life more bearable.”

“You play flute very well.” Rachel was always happy to be near him. Especially today. “Jesus, I had a dream about you last night.”

Jesus gave her a surprised look. “And what happened in your dream?”

“You were already as old as my father. Lots of children were sitting around you and listening to your stories. I was sitting next to you. You were very happy. But at the end of one of the stories you told me that you were also often lonely and sad. And that children gave you hope.” Rachel paused for a moment. “And then I suddenly heard loud yelling and strong men took you away. Then one of the men shouted that they had found the Messiah. That was all.”

“Hmm. It is true that I often feel lonely and downcast.” Jesus was surprised at how precisely Rachel had described his feelings. “But I don’t tell anyone about it.”

“Why not? You can tell me about your feelings. I will always listen to what you have to say.”

“Rachel, you always play with the other girls and I do not want to burden you with my feelings.”

Rachel was puzzled. No other boy her age had such thoughts or exuded the level of maturity that Jesus did. “I believe that you are the saviour of our people, whatever that means. And I believe that you have an important task to complete in your lifetime.”

“You really believe that?”, he asked her, full of wonder. Jesus was touched at how openly and how matter of course Rachel shared her thoughts with him.

“I can sense it. I sense that you radiate something that is good for me. And if it is good for me, then it must be good for all people, or? And I have also noticed a sadness in your eyes, as if in a dream. And the melodies you play on your flute are beautiful, but they always speak to me of longing and loneliness.” Rachel smiled at him.

“I always feel very lonely, even when I am among people. Even when I am playing with you guys.” Jesus gazed deep into her eyes.

“Jesus, tell me something about your feelings.” Rachel steadily returned the deep gaze of Jesus.

Jesus sensed that this moment had been arranged by his father in heaven. He sensed a heavenly power about him and began to speak.

“Regardless of where I was or with whom I spent my time in this life, I have always felt alone. I felt misunderstood, I had feelings that were so deep that I simply was not able to share them with others. After all I was not oblivious to the kinds of conversations people conducted with each other. I am aware of the fact that they could not possibly understand my feelings. And I have long been plagued by dark and hateful entities and grimacing faces that spit at me, that desire to hurt me, that insult me and curse me. It has been and still is a tough battle. That is why I so often play my flute. And why I often feel too weak to run through the alleyways with the others. And sometimes fears appear out of the blue regarding the future, regarding the task which I have taken upon myself …“ Jesus paused and teardrops fell upon the dry earth.

Rachel took his hand without saying anything. Instead she simply kept looking into his eyes.

“And these fears hurt so much they cause such deep pain that I would like nothing more than to run away and return to my heavenly father.”

Jesus was overcome by his feelings, but at the same time cherished this special moment. It felt good to feel Rachel’s hand.

“Jesus, I see dark creatures sometimes too.” Rachel gathered up all of her courage. “I don’t see their faces, but they are dark and do not feel good. It usually happens before I go to bed. But I have never told anyone about it before. And I have only started seeing these entities since you arrived in Nazareth. When Joshua collapsed I saw a whole bunch of them around him. And after Samuel had hit Joshua at your greeting celebration I saw five or six of those entities around Samuel. Only for a moment, but that was quite enough for me!”

Jesus was surprised that she had witnessed all of that. He could still recall the evening well on which the rabbi had beaten Joshua. Back then he had been aware of many grimacing figures that pointed at him, Jesus, laughing spitefully. Then they had proceeded toward Samuel who apparently could not resist the hatefulness of those entities. The fact that Rachel had also noticed this showed him that he was not the only one who had to deal with such perceptions.

All of sudden they were interrupted in their reflections by the sound of Rachel’s father, who was calling for her.

“Yes, yes, I am at the spring, father. I am coming already.” Rachel seemed sad that her afternoon with Jesus was coming to an end. “It was so nice here.”

“Yes, that it was “, Jesus replied. “Hurry up, otherwise you will get in trouble with your father.”

“Yes, I better go.” Rachel hurried away and soon disappeared behind some bushes. Jesus took out his flute and returned to the village, where there would soon be a nice meal, via a small detour.

He was really hungry this evening. And besides, he had to beef up for all of the challenges that he was soon to be facing.

Father, thank you for the talk I had with Rachel today. It was so good for me to have that talk. It showed me once again that you know all about my feelings and my troubles and send people my way so that I can sometimes share my burden with others. For this I thank you. Now I am feeling better I think. It feels good to be able to speak about the loneliness. Up until now I did not realize how strong this loneliness is. Will I always feel lonely like this?

Bakenor once told me that great souls always feel lonely. Why is that so? Haven’t great souls gathered more experience of your love? Surely they must have recognized you more than others?

Thank you for replying to me in my thoughts right away. Let me immediately write down your response so that I can finally understand this seeming contradiction.

As you just told me, great souls feel lonelier in darkness because they are used to a brighter light. And you said that great souls meet fewer trusted partners and likeminded souls in their lifetime than others.

Your response literally shines a bright light into my mind and soul. Thank you, father. Thank you.

∞

“Joshua, I am going to the synagogue now with Bealja. You are to do your writing exercises meanwhile. I will be checking them later on.” Samuel sounded very serious. “You hear?”

“Yes.” Joshua sat in a quiet corner of the courtyard with a piece of leather and wrote. Samuel had seen to it that scraps of leather were always brought to him in the synagogue. That ensured there was always enough writing material for the children, and most importantly, for Joshua. Joshua was tired and found that at the moment the only way to deal with his father was to obey. There was a lot of fear of course. His choice was between agreement and painful consequences. There truly was no other way. And he had had enough pain already lately. So he now preferred to concentrate on writing the Hebrew texts he had been assigned. Today he had to copy write down a passage from the book of Moses which he had memorized in the last few weeks. Unfortunately his father was very good at checking whatever he wrote for mistakes. Thus he had no choice but to do his writing. Normally this was easier for him to do than right now. He currently was having a very hard time putting up with his father. Why did he have to be a rabbi? Why couldn’t he have had maybe a potter or perhaps a craftsman for a father, like Jesus had? And why did his father always have to be so cruel?