Silver & Gold, I Do Not Have - a story in six parts.
“As a messanger of our Lord, it is written in my fate that I am obligated to conclude this ceremony; to invite and welcome you into the ways of us Healers and Baptisers.”
ONE
In the few days before john the baptist’s head was savagely removed from his body, he was conducting a ceremony whereby a chosen elder from a local village would be granted, through the grace of john and his followers, the power of healing. The elder would then return to his village and tend to the sick and the dying. His name was Simon Peter.
John was conducting the ceremony in a small and dark cave high above the elder’s village below. For four days and for four nights they prayed and took oaths in candlelight and the elder listened and learned. John was a kind man but these days saw him become anxious and preoccupied. On the fifth day of the ceremony the elder awaited John’s arrival to conclude the ceremony; for today was to be the day that he would finally be anointed and join John’s kindred. He waited and waited that morning for John, until he gave up hope. Shamed, he pledged never to return to his village as a failure - as a bringer of false hope. He would not be the healer the villagers so desparately needed but an ordinary devout village elder, no holier or more powerful than any other.
So, there he stayed - crouched just outside the entrance of the cold and dark cave; his hands clasped in constant prayer; his dead hair covering his face; his dark robe covered in autumn leaves and only ever a stolen whisper of hope would come from his dry mouth and echo in his ears, “Healer John, invite me again. Invite me again. Let me come with you.”
TWO
John had gone; passed through life to meet the man he was making way for on Earth. His spoiled spirit was counselled and healed by the angels of the Lord and his faith was restored. HIs life on earth as a man was over, cut short by the greed and pride of Lords and their loves. His spirit however, still shone, and it is this spirit which we meet now, in this story; on a dark night, on a dark bank of a dark and deep lake.
The lake in question is Lake Mahib which is not far from the borders of the Holy City, Jerusalem. It was here where John had performed his first baptism shortly after being visited by God. This night the Lake was still and the only sound was that of the locusts rising and falling on the heavy air. On the north bank a shadow stirred. It appeared to be rising through the sand from the underground and being born into this still night. Its dark skin glistened beneath the moonlight and its head shook off its sleep. Standing fully upright on its four legs it walked very slowly to the edge of the lake, lowered its head, and began to drink. The creature walked once or twice around the lake, strengthening its legs, until it started off on a brisk gallop north which shook up the still bank and left a mist of dust joining the locusts floating on the heavy air.
THREE
Simon Peter woke one night to the sound of the dew dropping from the roof of the cave into a shallow pool at his feet. Lowering his head in prayer He recalled a message from John: “A time shall come when the holy waters of our Lord will come to your door”. Weary and disillusioned Simon Peter shook the thought out of his head, he had had enough of prayer and devotion - after all, his devotion to the Lord through John had been overlooked.
He gathered some wild honey and prepared a simple drink using the fresh water in the cave. He welcomed the heat the honey gave him as it moved slowly down his throat; it comforted him and he regained his composure. From the corner of his eye he saw a shadow slowly travelling through the nearby bushes. This was followed by a feeling of embodyment and immersion. He was frightened and overpowered. The shadow emerged from the bushes and stood before him as tall and strong as anything he can ever remember seeing. Simon Peter edged slowly back into the safety of the cave and peered out at the animal. He gathered some rocks from the floor in case he needed to defend himself but the Horse stood quite peaceful and unaware of Simon Peter’s anxiety. Simon Peter found his hands had naturally joined and he was whispering a prayer to God, asking for his protection and guidance. The feeling of embodyment and immersion which had earlier left him feeling scared, now compelled him to rise up and greet this animal as a symbol, as a sign, as a mark of completion and invitation.
FOUR
It was dawn in Jerusalem and Jacob was gathering the morning’s eggs from the chicken coop. He was happy with the farm he had built up as it was now beginning to provide foods and income for his family. He loved being out at this time of the morning, everything seemed so clean and fresh and there was a beautiful light coming from the sky which, for a time, had both the moon and the sun for company; the moon was full last night. Staring out over his farm, where the rising sun meets the cool land, his eye noticed a trail of dust coming swiftly towards him. He cursed as he dropped his collection of eggs in shock: “who is this riding so quickly towards my home at this hour?” He watched the horse and its rider approach from afar. By the time they reach his farm the sun had risen higher in the sky and the rest of his family had joined him by the chickens. There was something remarkable about this traveller and his magnificent horse; Jacob felt intimidated but immediately offered the rider water and some breakfast (“we have no eggs this morning sir”) and allowed his horse to canter in the fields close by.
FIVE - 10 years later
Seated at the right hand of his Father, Jesus sensed that his Rock, his Twelfth, would soon be ready. He had watched over him, guided him, and brought him now to a place where his spirit was whole, his soul was pure, his body was strong and his faith was singular in its devotion.
SIX
In ten years Simon Peter had become invaluable to the community which he served. As healer, preacher, prophet and sage, the villagers blessed his presence every day and thanked God for providing them with such a gift. Walking alone on the bank of the river, as he did most mornings, Simon Peter was remembering the first person he had healed, the mother of Jacob, the man who had welcomed him to the village all those years ago. Suffering badly from consumption, she was visited by him and almost instantly began to improve. Her family were amazed and Jacob, her son, insisted that it was a miracle - Simon Peter’s coming to his farm that morning and curing his mother’s ailment that afternoon. News of this miracle spread throughout the village and soon Simon Peter found himself in great demand. He felt God working through him; his touch was blessed, his voice was inspired and his belief and faith grew stronger.
The river was swolen this time of the year, both with water and fish. He watched the fish swimming with the current of the river and wondered how they liked their life as creatures of God, did they devote their lives to serving him or were they oblivious to his ominpotence?
Simon Peter saw his reflection move over the river, it remained in the same place while the water moved through it; he liked the idea of him touching every part of the river as it flowed down stream - it gave him a sense of unity with creation and a feeling that part of him would live forever in the river.
His musings were cut short by the sight of a cloud of red flowing down the water, crimson like a desert rose and thick like oil. Simon Peter’s heart sank and he immediately sensed something; something deep inside him - as if it was his blood he was watching flowing from his own body. He fell to his knees and crouched there, helpless. He found his hands were under the water and were covered in this warm blood. The pressure on his chest was unbearable and he began to wail there on the river bank, a wail which sent small birds flying from low lying branches.
With a great effort, he raised his head. His healing instincts alerted him to the reality of the situation and he began to search for the source of this blood. Staggering up the river bank he saw a young, dark-haired child sitting on a group of rocks next to the river. He had his hands stretched out in front of him and a stream of blood was flowing from both of his wrists. He was staring directly at Simon Peter with a soft smile on his face, all the while his blood flowed.
“Hello Simon”, the Child said.
Simon Peter gasped, the pressure on his chest intensified but he knew he had to remain concious to tend to this young child.
“Young Child, let me heal your wounds. Please young one - let me heal you.”
The Child looked at his hands and then back to Simon, “Don’t you see Simon; not even you can heal these wounds”
The Child spoke like an adult, like an elder in the village.
“I do not need your physical healing, your miracle work. I need more from you. I need the pressure on your chest to move you; to move you to heal me and yourself. I need your devotion, your faith, your guidance, your belief, your strength, your loyalty, your courage, your shame, your fear, your voice, your mind and your sense of self. I need you to join me; to join me and others. I need you to be with me when I’m weak, when i’m lost, when i can’t see the way, when all of this has gone Simon - I need you.”
What Simon was seeing was both a prophecy and a calling. This vision would return to him in his darkest hour, as he hung limp and about to take his final breath; alone and his soul completely ravaged.
Simon Peter covered his face with his bloody hands and knelt in front of the child.
“My Lord, this vision disturbs me. It moves me deep inside and, worse, I do know it will move me so again.”
“My Child Cephas* - this vision will move you yes; but remember, when I am weak, when i am lost, when i cannot see the way, when all of this has gone, Simon - I need you, I need your strength”
END
*So firm was Peter’s faith, that Jesus gave him the name of Cephas, meaning, in the Syriac language, a rock. Peter is the Greek translation of Cephas.
