In darkness a throng of men moved about on the beach, talking in small groups. From the way they gathered at water’s edge, I concluded they meant to make ready in the fleet of small boats resting on sand. To where and for what purpose I could not discern, for not wishing to be discovered, I remained hidden among a stand of trees, crouching in bushes.

On the long dock jutting out into the harbor there did not appear to be any sign of a ship preparing to set sail. It seemed I had arrived too late to make my escape home.

Startled, a breath warmed the back of my neck.

“You were not at the docks as ordered,” a voice whispered. “I waited as long as I dared.”

The words of the young woman startled me. Heart racing, I wheeled to find her standing behind a date palm.

The young woman continued, “Once I learned the Asklepia was we put out to sea and her crew intended to move her into the next bay to make final preparations for her departure, I rushed here to wait. She is a ship from Adramyttium about to sail for ports along the coast of the province of Asia.”

Without moon and stars and only the faintest of candles in windows on shore, an overwhelming darkness settled upon me.

“If our ship has sailed why are those men gathered as they are?” I asked.

“They must have spied the Asklepia slip her lines and sail to the next cove. Now they mean to attack and steal her cargo before she sails.”

“I hardly see how this improves my situation. I remain stuck on this beach with no way to escape.”

“I relieved a neighboring fishing vessel of its rowboat,” she said. “When the tide turns the Asklepia will slip away. Unless those murderous thieves reach her first. Hurry, we’ve not a moment to lose.”

Pulling me by the hand, we slipped from the cluster of palms and, crouching low, hurried to what I mistook to be a pile of rocks. At first I thought she meant for us to hide along the water’s edge out of sight behind the mound. Only as we drew near did I realize that stones had been stacked in such a way as to conceal an overturned dory at the water’s edge.

Quickly we righted the small boat and waded out, taking care to keep lapping breakers from swamping her stern. Once aboard, we found places on the two benches and took up oars. The excitement of our escape left my heart pounding, face damp with sweat.

“Do all you can to keep from splashing,” she ordered. “The out-flowing current will carry us around that headland, but it may also draw us into view of those men.”

Without making a sound, we pulled away from shore and rowed towards the tip of a low strip of land that bracketed one end of the harbor. The young woman’s warning regarding the theft of the Asklepia left me concerned, for I feared we might be mistaken as murderous men sent to steal a ship.

“Tell me, how were you able to escape the home of the leper?”

“How did you know I had become trapped?” I replied.

“From the end of the street I watched until I risked being seen by that mob.”

Though I feared our voices might carry, the young woman no longer appeared worried. I suppose by that point she felt confident we would reach the next bay without incident. Keeping my voice low I explained how I had removed tiles in the ceiling. Then how I crawled onto the roof to escape the mob charging into the woman’s home.

“Is that not also the way the paralytic was let down?” she asked. “By passing him through a hole in the roof?”

“You know of the story?”

“Only that that a man who could not walk or stand was healed with but words. Nothing like that has ever happened. Were you there? Did you witness his healing?”

I gave my oar another hard pull, taking care to dip it back in without splashing.

“The event took place soon after Jesus entered Capernaum. The Teacher had come to his home town. Many knew him as a boy, others as a young man. To find the son of Joseph now going about healing all who came to him caused many to doubt his authority and claims to be from the Father. He later explained to us that a prophet is never honored in his home town. I myself have found his words to be true. It seems those who know us best and have known us longest cannot recognize the greatness others see in us.”

“You speak as though someone much wiser than your years.”

“One cannot but gain knowledge and wisdom when walking with and listening to the Teacher.”

“Look,” she whispered. “Those men are shoving off. Row!”

Behind us rowboats launched. Avoiding waves breaking over rocks near shore, the fleet of small boats soon reached calmer water and began to close the distance between us.

Rowing harder, we ceased talking, and continued to make our way towards a rocky tip of land. Only as we made our turn did the orange glow of the moon below the horizon frame the monstrous shape of a large vessel anchored in a bay.

“That’s her,” the young woman said. “That’s the Asklepia.”

“She is large. Much more so than I expected.”

“Her cargo demands it.”

“Her cargo? What, pray tell, does she carry.”

Ignoring my question, she asked, “Tell me plain, how did the man come to walk?”

“By that evening so many had gathered in the home of Simon that there was no room left, not even outside the door. As most times, the Teacher preached the word to all who would listen. While doing so four men brought a crippled man on a mat. How he arrived at his condition, I do not know, but his countenance showed him to be someone with little hope. His friends had hope enough, though, for when they could not pass through the crowd due to its size, they made an opening in the roof.”

“How I wish I had such friends,” the young woman replied.

“I do in Jerusalem. This is why I so urgently wish to return. Some of my friends witnessed the four friends digging through the roof and lowering the man on the mat.”

“Is that when the man was healed?”

“They laid him at the feet of the Teacher. Seeing their faith, Jesus said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

“What an odd thing to say to a man who cannot walk.”

“The teachers of the law thought as much. Sensing in his spirit that they doubted his authority to forgive sins, the Teacher turned to question them. I have since learned that Jesus knows the hearts of all, even our unspoken words.”

In my excitement at seeing the Asklepia, I became distracted and banged the boat’s side with my oar. It slipped from my hand, making a loud splash.

“You there,” a call came from the Asklepia. “Identify yourself!”

“Hurry now, we’ve not a moment to lose,” she whispered. “Word aboard the Asklepia is that pirates would attempt to board at the turning of the tide,” said the young woman. “Her crew fears an attack will come while the men are making preparations to get under way. We must reach her stern and remain out of sight before the crew of the Asklepia mistake us for thieves. ”

“But we are thieves,” I protested. “You stole this rowboat.”

“True. But if we do not move quickly we will be sunk.”

Two rowboats peeled away from the others. I soon saw that they were much larger and more heavily manned. Judging from their course and speed it became clear that the two crews meant to intercept us before we reached the Asklepia.

“Our intentions are noble,” she continued. “The intentions of those men in those boats are nefarious at best and deadly at worst.”

“I do not understand your meaning.”

“You will.”

“Keep a sharp eye out, men,” the call came from the Asklepia, “and have your weapons at the ready. The attack will come from astern.”

Aboard the Asklepia lines were pulled, sails loosened. As she had warned, the great ship was preparing to sail. And we still remained a great distance away.

On we rowed, hidden now and then by a field of large boulders running out from the tip of land. If not for those, we would have been spied by any aboard the Asklepia.

From behind the two rowboats sent to intercept us struggled against the tide. Had we rowed into the current, as they attempted, we might have been caught. But the young woman knew the ways of the water. She had taken a less direct route, choosing to allow the tide to carry us sideways, through the scattering of boulders, past the Asklepia and out to sea. I now saw that she meant to let the great ship come to us.

From far off a second voice called, “You there, stand off! Stand off!”

The Asklepia, less than a hundred yards away, groaned to life, her timbers creaking as sails were let down.

A man called from her deck, “Make your intentions known or you will be fired upon.”

From behind and much closer than expected, one of the men from the fleet of rowboats replied, “Fire if you must. We have come to take possession of your vessel. If you abandon her, you will not be harmed. If you resist, every man aboard will be cut down.”

The main portion of the fleet of rowboats must have seen us and followed. With more vessels and men manning oars, the fleet had quickly closed the distance between us. Silence fell across the water. Only the lapping of our oars disturbed its stillness.

The young woman placed her hand on mine and pulled me up. “Now we will go.”

I did not understand, but before I could ask her to explain, she began to crawl over the side. Without notice from the men in rowboats she slipped into the water. Only then did her purpose become clear.

“Surrender or we will fire,” came the call from the rowboats.

Leaving my oar on the floor of the rowboat, I followed, lowering myself into chilly water.

“If you do not retire at once,” a voice shouted from the Asklepia, “every one not cut down by the sword will be hanged. I command you to disperse!”

With her anchor up, the great ship began to move, her bow turning with the current and wind.

“We’ve come to take possession of your ship,” a man called from a rowboat. “If you give up peaceably, you will not be harmed, but put ashore. Resist and we will show no mercy.”

By swimming with only our heads above water and doing so without making hardly any noise at all, we soon placed ourselves before the ship’s bow and slightly to starboard. Once she got under way, unless she turned off, the Asklepia’s heading she could do nothing but run us down.

A command came from high atop the main mast. “Archers to the ready!”

In darkness with only the moon’s glow to give away our position, the great ship began to glide towards us. With but a single sail sail unfurled she appeared to move much to slowly to escape the fleet of rowboats approaching from her starboard flank.

“There will be a trailing line off her stern for those who may be swept overboard,” the young woman whispered to me. “You have but one chance to grab it.”

“What of you?” I asked.

Before I could prevent her, the young woman shoved our dory back towards the fleet of pirates. I suppose she intended to present the small vessel as a decoy or perhaps expose the nearness of the fleet of pirates.

“I will swim away and return to the dory if I can. If not there is a small rock outcropping not more than a league away I may reach. There I can wait until daybreak. Then I shall search for a returning fishing boat to take me back.”

The whoosh of water rushing past the Asklepia’s hull drew closer. Surprised was I that no one on deck spied us, but I suppose all eyes were fixed on the approaching fleet of pirates in rowboats.

“No,” I said in a hushed voice. “We go together.”

“My home is here in Antalya.”

“But you know the sea. Please, I do not wish to steal my way aboard alone.”

“Arrows will soon fly from those rowboats. Some lit. Should her sails catch fire, the fighting may last for some time. It may yet be that the thieves overtake the Asklepia. Do all you can to escape over the side should the pirates take her. Better to be lost at sea than fall into the hands of murdering thieves.”

“You must come with me,” I replied. “I cannot do this alone.”

“Once the attack comes, her crew will become distracted. Attempt to make your way aboard then. Find some place safe. If you can, a cabin where you will not be found.”

The Asklepia’s bow shaved past so close I could have touched the rough planks of her hull. The foul odor of sea grass and barnacles growing along her waterline let me know that though large, her owner had failed to keep her properly maintained.

“This teacher you mentioned, the one you say is the son of a god, he is all powerful?”

“He is the very God himself. The maker of heaven and earth and sea and all thing below and above.”

“And he came to set those captured free?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes. And recovery of sight for the blind.”

“This man you mentioned before,” the young woman said, “the one bedridden and unable to walk? He was healed by this son of a god?”

The whooshing of water slicing past the hull offered some cover for our conversation, but I feared not enough, for I could easily make out the words of some crew above us discussing the position of the fleet of rowboats quickly approaching.

“The man’s friends who laid him at the feet of the Teacher. When they did so the Teacher had said to the man: ‘Your sins are forgiven.’”

“What an odd way to address some in need.”

“I thought so as well, as did several of the religious leaders. They became indignant, asking the Teacher to explain himself, to which he replied, ‘Which is easier for me to say to this man? That his sins are forgiven or hat he should stand, take his mat and walk? But so you may know that the Son of God has authority on earth to forgive sins, I say to this man, Son, get up! Take your mat and go home.’ At this the man rose to his feet, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all. The people were amazed and began praising God, for none had ever seen anything like it.”

“So then this Jesus heals?”

“Yes. While I was with the Teacher all who came were healed. He turned none away.”

“Once you are aboard tell the owner of the ship all of what you told me. Recount to him exactly the words and actions of the Teacher just as you told me. Do not fail to mention the how he liberates the captives.”

Before I could respond that I had no intention of stealing aboard without her, a head appeared above us from the railing.

“You there, identify yourself!”

In that moment, as she had said, a line trailing from the ship’s stern brushed against my arm. I grabbed it with both hands and held tight.

“I say, pull yourself in or our archers will be fire upon. The ship’s owner demands that you be brought aboard.”

Out of breath, shivering from cold water, and frightened, I clung to the rope. I had no intentions of letting go or pulling myself closer. With the Asklepia’s beginning to make speed I hoped to hang on until I was some distance away from the fleet or rowboats, then release the line and swim . . . to where I did not know.

In that moment two heads appeared near me, one on my left, the other my right. Two of her crew had slipped over and into the water without me noticing. Before I could react both had me and were pulling me closer to the ship’s rudder. With the moment lost, I became a prisoner of the Asklepia.

Though the ship upon which I was meant to board would sail soon, I could not risk leaving the rooftop without being discovered.

The banging below in the home of the leper woman continued until at last the owner on whose roof I crouched stepped into the street. After the home’s owner called for quiet, a door slammed next door and men departed up the alley, cursing as they trod past.

My chance had come. I would make my way towards the waterfront and inquire as to which ship might soon be departing. But as I began to back down the roof’s ladder, I recalled a time when others crowded about on rooftops watching for the Teacher to pass by.

On that day Jesus had gone into the Capernaum and began to teach in the jewish synagogue. Because he taught as one who had authority and not as the teachers of the law, people found themselves amazed at how he opened the Scriptures.

While speaking, a man possessed by an unclean spirit cried out, “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God!”

At the time I thought it odd that filthy spirits knew Jesus to be the Father’s Son but the religious rulers did not.

“Be quiet! Come out of him!” Jesus commanded.

At once the spirit shook the man violently and with a shriek escaped. Where the spirit went, I do not know. But within moments the man was back in his right mind and as calm as though he’d never been tormented at all.

Many wondered aloud at what they had witnessed. “Is this a new teaching and with authority,” one asked. “Not even the Pharisees can cast out such spirits with simply a word,” another remarked.

News spread quickly over the whole region of Galilee and soon many came to be healed. Even Simon’s mother-in-law who was in bed with a fever, found herself healed by the Teacher’s touch. Once the fever left, she arose and began to wait on Jesus and his disciples.

By sunset the whole town had gathered at the door. People brought all the sick and demon-possessed to the home and the Teacher healed all, though because the demon spirits knew who he was, he forbade them speak of his glory.

All this I considered while in the distance a bell clanged three times.

I knew from our passage at the port of Sidon that once a ship’s bell tolls, her lines will soon be let go. If I were to make the ship and escape back home I needed to hurry.

Certain no one below was watching, I backed down the ladder. Once more I searched the narrow alley for any of the mob who might be loitering. Then easing around to the front, I softly rapped two times on the door, waited and then rapped three more times.

“You have returned,” the leper woman said. “If it is directions to your ship that you seek, you only need to go to the end of this alley and turn—”

I forced my way in and pushed the door shut behind.

She had placed the table back beside her mat, which was now tossed and missing some of its straw. In my haste to leave I’d left several of the roof tiles askew, but with the table and candle so far removed, the men had not noticed.

“If you are willing,” I said, “the Teacher can make you clean.”

With wet eyes reflecting the candles dancing light, she reached out her hands and clasped mine.

“I am willing,” she said softly.

With eyes closed I looked up. “Jesus, my Lord, the Messiah, the Christ, you alone are righteous. In you we put on our new self, which was created by the Father for this very purpose. We have died to our sins in order that we might live for righteousness. It is by your stripes that we are healed. Father, you did not send your Son to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved. Where there is righteousness, sin and sickness cannot remain. No one who is born of the Father will continue to sin, because his seed remains in them. They cannot go on sinning, because they have been born of God. For this reason with the power and authority of my Lord, I declare that Jesus has forgiven this woman of her sins. By the blood of Jesus, my sister, you are forgiven, healed and made whole.”

Her fingers grew strangely warm, but I only had a moment to consider this, for suddenly a clanging bell warned of a ship’s impending departure.

Without another word, I escaped into the alley, slipped around back, and fled into the narrow corridor that separated the homes. Only when I reached the end of the alley did I hear the woman’s cries of joy echoing in the street, “I’m healed! I’m healed!”

With haste I turned in the direction of the wharf and sprinted towards the smell of the sea.

Had it not been for the lies spread by those guarding the tomb of the Teacher I might never have gone to sea with Saul and my cousin Barnabas. So I suppose this narrative I am attempting to put down on scroll must rightly begin with that fateful event the morning when my dear ima came hurrying through our door to tell me of the Great Deception.

“John! John Mark!” she shouted so loud I could well have heard her had I been in Galilee. “The chief priests have met with the elders and devised a plan to give a large sum of money to the guards who watched over the Teacher’s tomb. To any who ask, the guards are to say, ‘The disciples of this man Jesus came during the night and stole his body while we were asleep.'”

When I asked why those on the ruling council would act with such duplicity, she replied, “They fear that the rumors of the Teacher’s appearance after his death might lead to an ever greater following than when we walked freely among us.”

“But is alive,” I replied. “Some of our women said as much. Mary of Magdala swears she spoke with him. Even Simon and John testify that the Teacher’s body is not in the tomb.”

“Well I know,” Ima replied, “for I have heard the rumors. But remember how after John the Baptizer was put in prison, the Teacher traveled in Galilee, proclaiming the good news of the Father and saying, ‘The time has come?’ That, ‘The kingdom of God is near. Repent. Believe the good news?’ This is that time. You must hurry and write what you heard and witnessed and what the Eleven claim to have seen.”

“Who am I to write such things? I am not even counted among the Eleven.”

“But you have witnessed some of his miracles. And has the Teacher not dined in our home? Did you not spend time with him in our upper room? Go now and recount what you witnessed. Tell of how the Teacher walked beside the Sea of Galilee and saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake.”

“If others would not believe his words when he was alive why will they believe my account now that the Teacher is gone?”

“Did you not tell me yourself that you heard John the Baptizer call to the crowds, ‘Look! The Lamb of God!’ If the prophet’s words are true, should not this good news be preserved?”

“That was nearly four years ago. John is now dead and the Teacher crucified.”

“Enough! Go! Find a safe place and begin to write all these things so that others will know his testimony is true, as are the words of the prophets that foretold of his coming.”

Without haste I hurried to gather my belongings that morning, and left for a place safe from the reach of Roman guards and those on the Council who felt threatened by the power of the Teacher’s words. Well that I did for only a short while after I departed my ima’s home, Simon and John were arrested by the Sanhedrin and placed in prison. Though released, the shock of their swift imprisonment left me concerned for my own safety. Away from Ima’s home and in solitude I began to make a careful accounting of all that I had seen and heard and learned from the Teacher.

Now once more I found myself fleeing for my life and seeking solitude. The events of the past few days, of my departure from Saul and Barnabas, carried the same fear and urgency as when I fled our home in Jerusalem.

Though a few blocks from the jail, we had stopped outside a home.

“Wait here,” the young woman said to me. “I will check to see if a follower of the Way lives inside.”

The riotous shouting of the crowd continued, though now many had begun to peel away, their lust for bloodshed waining. From the inscription above the door I judged the home to be one similar to Ima’s—a home for strangers in need of boarding.

The young woman glanced up the narrow alley, back, and down as if checking to make sure the mob had not followed. Satisfied that our route through the city had gone unnoticed, she knocked: two short raps.

From the other side of the door feet shuffled. A single knock came in reply.

Twice more she knocked, hesitated then rapped three more times. When the door opened, she pushed me inside said, “Lose no time. Wash and bind your wounds quickly. The owner will give you a fresh cloak.”

She pressed some coins into the outstretched palm, for the owner of the house remained behind the door.

“You will be directed to our ship,” she added. “She lies not far from here. Hurry, now. We haven’t much time. She sails within the hour. I will wait for you by the boarding ladder, but if you are not there, we will cast off without you.”

Once inside, I found myself trapped in nearly total darkness. Only a small candle flickered.

“Tell me of the first time,” my host said.

At first I did not understand the old woman’s request.

“When you first heard the Teacher’s voice. Was it deep, loud? Or like mine, weak and tired from years of hard living?”

“I… ”

With a heavy sigh she settled onto hard packed dirt flooring. As my eyes began to adjust to the room’s dim lighting I noticed its sparse furnishings. Straw mat. Wash basin. Towel. A folded cloak.

“I receive so few guests,” she said, motioning towards the basin of water. “None who who believe the rumors of his appearing after his death. Please, tell me all you know of this man Jesus.”

In the brief moment when the candle’s light fell across her hand and wrist I caught sight of the dark splotches, her deformed fingers.

Leprosy! The young woman brought me into the home of a leaper. How dare she!

Perhaps sensing my hesitation, the old woman scooted back into the corner of the room, moving as far away from the mat and basin as possible.

Dropping to my knees I gathered water in my hands and washed blood from my face. This I did until my dim reflection became the shade of rose peddles in full bloom. Instantly memories of the Teacher came flooding back: his baptism in the Jordan River. His face bloodied by soldiers’ fists. Water mixed with blood spilling out when the spear pierced his side.

“When the Teacher came up from the water of his baptism,” I said, “he turned around and saw Andrew, the brother of Simon. He asked, ‘What do you want?'”

I splashed more, until at last the basin of water became so polluted with my blood as to be of little use. With a towel I dried my face.

“‘Teacher,’ Andrew had replied. ‘Where are you staying?'”

“‘Come with me and you will see.’ the Teacher replied.”

“That was the first time I heard him—the first time I heard his voice. It was that of a grown man, deep and rich. Yet his tone always seemed to be gentle. Seldom did he raise his voice. And even when he did, it was to rebuke those who refused to offer justice and mercy.”

With the sodden towel pink from blood I bathed my wrists and ankles, wincing in pain as I did so.

“After the his baptism,” I said, “Andrew and another disciple spent the day with the Teacher. The first thing Andrew did afterwards was to find his brother Simon. ‘We have found the Messiah, that is the Christ,’ Andrew told his brother. He then brought Simon to the Teacher.”

The cloak provided for me was made for a woman and too small, but I had little choice. I could not go about in the rags I now wore. Stepping behind the changing screen I undressed.

“Some days later when the Teacher found Simon and Andrew fishing by the Sea of Galilee, he called to the pair and commanded them to put out into deep water. To let down theirs nets for a catch.”

I slipped on the cloak and cinched its belt. “Might you have an extra pair of sandals?” I asked.

“By the door. They were my husbands. You are welcomed to them.”

Stepping from the screen, I hurried to the door. Though too narrow for me feet, I found the sandals’ length sufficient.

“‘Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything,'” Simon replied. “‘But because you say so, I will let down the nets.’ When they had done this, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. The pair signaled to their partners, James and John, in the other boat to come and help. Soon both boats began to sink. At this, Simon fell at the Teacher’s  feet and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord. I am a sinful man!'”

The woman leaned out from the darkened corner, allowing the candle to fall across her face.

“Were the Teacher here now rather than you, I would say as this man Simon said: ‘Go away from me, Lord. I am a sinful woman!”

“As we all are,” I said. “We feel no shame in the presence of the Teacher. Only love and compassion. This is the reason he came. To remove our sin. To make us clean. To heal us. And now because of your kindness I am clean enough to be seen in public.”

“Oh, that I wish that I could be made clean.”

“You only need to ask the Teacher.”

“But he is not here. There is only you.”

Taking a deep breath I approached her. My boldness sent the old woman scurrying back into her corner of blackness.

“If you wish to be made clean, made whole, to have your sins forgiven, you need only ask.”

“But I am asking. I am pleading,” she said.

There came a hard bang on the door.

The old woman jerked her hands from mine. “You must go,” she whispered to me. “Through the ceiling and out. You can reach my neighbor’s roof from mine, but careful they do not see you stepping over.”

“But what of you? I cannot leave without first giving you the gift of Jesus.”

Pushing me away, she called to the men banging on the door, “I am unclean! What is it you wish?” A final time she whispered to me, “Go now or we shall both die this evening.”

Standing atop the lone piece of wood furniture, a small table, I carefully removed four tiles, pulled myself up by roof beams, and climbed out. Kneeling, I quietly replaced the tiles, checked to make certain no one stood in the gap below, and crawled onto the neighbor’s roof.

Once more the shame at my cowardliness proved more than I could bear. Safely away, I cowered in a corner beneath a starlit night and sobbed.