The Grumpy Gardener makes a decision – part 2

A few days after the ascension story broke over Jerusalem, I was walking through the streets towards one of the meeting places of the Apostles, Rabbi Jesus’ closest followers, to sit and listen to the stories they were to tell of him to those who gathered, when I heard to cry of ‘fire’. I began to run towards the cries to see whether I could help. In a place where houses are built so close together a fire could kill many many people. As I skidded round the corner into the open area I was heading for, a door slammed open and a group of men dashed out from one of the houses. Just for an instance it looked as if they had tongues of flame licking at their hair. I looked away from them to see if I could see some water anywhere, but when I looked back, the fire had gone. I stopped in astonishment. I blinked and looked again. I must have imagined what I had just thought I had seen. The men who had exited so precipitately milled around for a few minutes talking and laughing, and a man next to me turned to go muttering that he wasn’t going to stand around watching a whole lot of drunk men make fools of themselves at this hour of the morning.

One of the men, whom I recognised as Peter, must have had the ears of a cat, for he turned sharply and said ‘We are not drunk, at least,’ he amended, ‘we have had nothing alcoholic to drink. We have just been touched by the Holy Spirit of Yahweh, we have been filled to overflowing with words to speak and stories to tell.’ Then the men began to flow out into the crowd that was gathering, and began to talk to small groups of the people standing and watching open mouthed at what was happening. One of the men, Andrew I think it was, came to where I was standing and began to talk. For the first time I heard my own language on the lips of a man from Galilee. I stood astonished as he praised and glorified Yahweh in my tongue. After a while I looked around at the faces of the other people milling around. There were many people there swarming in to the area to find out what was happening. As well as natives of Jerusalem there were merchants, travellers and soldiers from all corners of the Roman Empire gathered in that small square of land in Jerusalem, an insignificant city on the outskirts of the Roman Empire. Moving among us were a group of men who were, as I realised with a shock, talking to each one of us in our own language. I recognised odd words floating up into the air from a number of tongues I have tried to learn. I turned away from what Andrew was saying, and listened to other men talking, both Apostles and hearers. All were astonished at what was happening.

Eventually as one might expect, a large contingent of soldiers arrived in full military uniform. They took aggressive positions around the perimeter of the area, but one of the soldiers who had been off duty and had found himself in the square as things began to happen, went to the commanding officer and gave an explanation to him. I have no idea what he can have said to explain what was happening before our eyes, but after looking suspiciously at us all, he shouted at us to move along and go back to our homes. The soldiers moved aside to let us all disperse back to where we had all come from.

No matter what the soldiers had wanted, a few hours later a crowd, bigger than this mornings gathered in the Court of the Gentiles in the Temple, where once again Rabbi Jesus followers had gathered. As well as praising God, the Apostles were now preaching and teaching, and moving among the crowd laying hands on the sick, and healing them in the name of Jesus. They called on the crowd to repent and to be baptised in the name of Jesus. So the crowds moved to the pool of Siloam, and thousands of them came to believe in the death and resurrection of Jesus and were baptised by the Apostles. Including me.

Jerusalem was in a ferment for weeks. Peter and John were arrested by the Sanhedrin for healing a crippled beggar. They preached Jesus message to the Sanhedrin, with such fluency that those learned men were astonished that simple men from Galilee could talk in such an authoritative way about Yahweh. As the crippled beggar was also standing before them complete and whole, and giving thanks to Yahweh in Jesus name, there wasn’t a lot they could do, so they released them all.

Many of those who had first heard the Good News on the day of Pentecost returned to their own lives and their own countries. For the last few months I have spent as much time as I could in the Temple and privately sitting at the feet of the Apostles, along with many others, who like me were utterly captivated by the message of Jesus. I know that I have neglected my garden, and my master is now questioning my commitment to him and it. I am torn about what I must do next. I know that Rabbi Jesus thought my garden to be a piece of heaven on earth, and I feel that I should preserve it in his memory. But the Apostles believe that he will be returning to earth again, soon, to establish Yahweh’s kingdom here on earth. Believers here are now living and sharing all things together. I have little enough to share, but what I have is shared with all. The Apostles have commissioned from among our number believers to help look after the growing number of believers in Jerusalem and further afield. Some of the Apostles have already left to travel as the spirit wills to preach the Good News. I feel now that I must return to my own country. I believe that the Spirit is leading me to go and preach and teach, but I am a gardener. My words are in the beauty of my plants and the arrangement of them in my garden. Peter tells me that he is only a simple fisherman from Galilee, but when he wants words he calls upon the power of the Holy Spirit to help him say what is in his heart. If the spirit is moving me to return home, then the spirit will give me the words to say. So I have a decision to make, to stay or to go. Help me Lord Jesus to do what you want me to do. Amen. So be it.

The Grumpy Gardener makes a decision – part 1

I have a decision to make, a really hard decision that will affect the rest of my life. I thought that leaving my own country to come here to Jerusalem to make a garden was a big decision. Then it was the adventure of it that drew me, and the knowledge that I was skilled and able enough to do what was being asked of me. I also liked my new master, and knew that we could be friends as well as master and employee. This time I am making a decision to do something about which I really do not feel skilled enough, to go to unknown places where I may not be received warmly, and may even demand my life. Still, I am contemplating my decision.

This part of my life’s story began the day my garden, or rather my master’s garden, near the city walls of Jerusalem was invaded by a group of men searching for palm branches to lay on the path before their teacher, Rabbi Jesus of Nazareth. They stripped my palm trees, trampled my beds of flowers and hopped back over the wall. Rabbi Jesus later came himself to apologise for the damage caused. My master gave me the opportunity to sit and talk with him, as he himself had done several times. I was captivated by this kind and gentle man who talked so eloquently and with love about his God, Yahweh, a God I had been learning about since arriving in this country. Always before, Yahweh was spoken about with awe and power – a god of rules, and anger if you broke them. I was devastated when only a few days after our talk Rabbi Jesus was taken by the Temple Guards, tried, condemned to death, and nailed to a cross at Golgotha, the place of the skull, the execution area just outside the city walls. But that was not the end of the story for on the third day of his death, stories began to be circulated that Rabbi Jesus had risen from the dead, and had been seen by his followers. I didn’t believe them until I spoke to one of his followers, by the name of Thomas. Then I believed.

The weeks after talking to Thomas seemed to pass slowly. Most of Rabbi Jesus followers had left Jerusalem after his death. Despite their absence stories and more stories were circulating, and the authorities began to try to clamp down on the rumours and whispers. But it was like trying to stop water from running through a hole in a pipe. The harder they tried, the more stories burst out in other places; in the market, on street corners, at the gates of the city, by the water wells, whispered in peoples homes and it was rumoured, even in the palace of Herod Antipas himself.

Then on the fortieth day after his death, with what seemed like a great clap of thunder breaking over Jerusalem, the story that Rabbi Jesus had said goodbye to his disciples and ascended into heaven was being talked about everywhere and by everyone. So the story went, he had met with a few of his closest followers in Bethany, a village on the Mount of Olives. He then blessed them all and was taken up into heaven. That much all the accounts agreed on. After that, depending on which story you heard, he might have just disappeared up through the clouds or followed in the example of one of the prophets, hopped into a great chariot with four horses, and been driven up into heaven. Some of the stories were even more outrageous than that. What had definitely happened was that the followers of Rabbi Jesus reappeared in Jerusalem and were seen every day in the Temple praising and glorifying Yahweh. The authorities were very loathe to do anything about them. Praising Yahweh could not be considered as a crime, even if the joyousness of their praises was infectious in a way that the solemn worship and sacrifices of the priests was not. People came to watch and see and the numbers coming to the Temple increased daily.

The beginning of the community of faith – part 2

Pentecost

Then the Apostles began to move out into the gathered crowd, their faces lit with a holy light, and they began speaking urgently to the people around them. As they spoke people gathered around them and listened, their eyes wonderingly on their faces. After a while I could see that some people were beginning to look around them, and were registering what others were hearing from different speakers. I could see the odd one or two moving from group to group, and then begin to back away from what was going on. As one passed me, I grabbed his arm, and asked him what was going on. ‘They are telling us about the Lord Jesus, about Yahweh, and about the Holy Spirit which has come upon them and given them the words to talk to us. But what is really weird is that no matter which one I go and listen to, I hear them speak in a different language. I speak a number of languages, but these men seem to be fluent in the languages of all of the people who are gathered here today, and there are devout Jews here from every part of the Roman Empire and beyond. But these men are Galileans, you can tell from their dress. How can all these provincial fishermen and farmers be such good linguists? They must be drunk!’

My captive observer had not noticed that Peter was coming up behind him, and had heard the last part of this conversation. ‘How can we be drunk?’ he laughed ‘It is still early morning! No, I am filled with the Holy Spirit – you saw the flames. I don’t know how, but everyone here is able to hear and understand in their own languages; and I am still just a poor plain speaking Galilean fisherman who has only his native tongue at his command.’ The man just stared at him, then turned and walked away.

With the Holy Spirit giving them speech and words the Apostles began to speak in any place, at any time, about the Lord Jesus. If the authorities had been scared before, they must have been becoming even more paranoid now. There seemed no stopping this new sect who seemed to be able to draw people in, and to threaten the stability that they had hoped the death of Jesus would have brought back. When the Apostles were not in the market place, or by the well talking to the women collecting water, or at the city gates talking with the old men putting the world to rights, they were in the Temple loudly praising God and ignoring the gentle ritual chanting of the Temple Priests. Many came to believe in the Lord Jesus through their words.

Away from the conversations and the conversions, the Apostles, particularly Peter were tireless. We all believed that the coming of the Holy Spirit signified that the Second Coming of Jesus, at the End of Time was imminent. When after a few days, it didn’t appear to be coming quickly, Peter gathered together all of the believers and told them of his plan. That we should live together, and pray together in the Temple. We would sell all our belongings and bring our money to the Apostles, and they would give to each of us as much as we needed. We would feed the poor and destitute in the name of the Lord Jesus. I hurried off to sell my house in Emmaus, and all of my belongings, and I laid my money at the feet of the Apostles. It was such an exciting time. Every morning when I opened my eyes, I hoped that this would be my last day, and that today would be the End of Time.
Weeks have turned into months, and months have now turned into years. Our zeal for the Lord has not diminished, but it has changed. When our money began to run out, those who were able, took up their old jobs again and began to support the work of the community by their labour. Those who were not gifted with work used other gifts for the benefit of the community. I found that my poor skills of cooking and with healing herbs allowed me to care for those in the city who were sick and ill, and while I was tending them, I could tell them of my encounter with the Lord Jesus. Some I managed to bring to him as well. Some members of the community of faith left the city and began to travel the merchant routes from village to village, city to city spreading out across the known world. We sent them out with money and food to help the poor and sick of body mind and spirit that they found along their routes. When we began to have problems here in Jerusalem, when food became scarce, the communities of faith sent food and money to us, to strengthen us to continue our work here.

Life has not really been as easy as that though. The authorities have challenged us when they felt we were getting too dangerous to them, but our faith has kept us going. Some of our number have been imprisoned, some have been tortured to try to get them to renounce the Lord Jesus. Some have even died for their faith. Sometimes the religious authorities hunt us out like rabid dogs, and the fiercest of their hunters is the Pharisee, Saul of Tarsus.

In the last few weeks my strength has gone, and I know that I have not much longer before I meet my Lord Jesus again. My community in Jeruslame have brought me back here to my son’s house in Emmaus, so that I can see him and my daughters and grandchildren again for the last time. As my brothers and sisters in Christ, yes, I even managed to bring them to the Lord Jesus, they will care for me now, and hopefully be able to rejoice with me even when they mourn their loss, and my gain and unutterable joy.