Collection: Seeds of Hope

Title: Decisive Encounters

Author: Roberto Badenas

Translator: Celia Gómez

Edition, design and project development: Editorial Safeliz team

© Editorial Safeliz, S. L.

Copyright by © Editorial Safeliz, S. L.

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Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture marked NKJV is taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Italics in quotations of the above translations are added by the author for emphasis.

Index

Introduction 7

Preface: The Temptation 11

1. The Meeting 25

2. The Invitation 37

3. The Call 51

4. The Wedding 61

5. The Disagreement 75

6. The Healing 87

7. The Embrace 99

8. The Forgiveness 109

9. The Contact 119

10. The Look 129

11. The Liberation 145

12. The Storm 159

13. The Tomb 169

14. The Supper 179

15. The Escape 191

16. The Kiss 199

17. The Dream 209

18. The Compassion 219

19. The Promise 227

20. The Reconciliation 241

Epilogue: The Farewell 255

To whoever seeks spiritual roads beyond

the hackneyed paths, hoping

that on them the promise of Jesus is fulfilled:

“. . . seek and you will find . . .

the one who seeks finds . . .” (Matt. 7:7-8)

Introduction

It has been said: “every important decision in life, every great love, emerges from an encounter.”1 Indeed, much of what we become is owed to others. Throughout our existence, we gradually shape ourselves; from encounter to encounter we build and destroy ourselves. Fortuitous, expected or feared, banal or extraordinary, our encounters mark us, some in a decisive way.

Disoriented in our search, trapped in the clutches of our own routines or surprised by the storm—in the most unexpected occasions of life, at the turn of a corner, in the face of an accident, before an open tomb—we face an encounter, an idea, a word, a glance, a gesture, an embrace, a kiss (who knows . . . ?) that decides our destiny.

At a given moment divine grace also bursts into our lives. It can occur at random from circumstances or arrive at the end of a long wait, like love at first sight or a friendship. And that encounter becomes the crossroads of our most personal, most profound story. The consequences, often irreversible, can be eternal.

Contrary to what some believe, apart from rare exceptions, those encounters do not usually present themselves as irrefutable supernatural interventions. They most frequently occur without us realizing it: something happens to us that questions us and changes the course of our existence. It may even be the case that the encounter is so subtle that is goes unnoticed, and we go on as if nothing had happened. However, the marvelous miracle of memory waits as long as necessary, crouched down in us with divine patience. A day arrives over time when, without knowing how the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle are put in place, we clearly see an image that stands out as a revelation. Pieces may be missing, but we can already recognize the message. We then rescue from our memories that which we ignored in its day. And it dawns on us that at some moment providence placed itself within our reach. That strange mystery makes sense, and our contact with God begins to flourish. Without realizing it we are living, on a spiritual level, “the non-transferable experience of the encounter.”2

In the pages that follow I attempt, simply, to share reflections arising from some decisive moments from the lives of men and women—not too different from us—who changed their destiny upon contact with Jesus. I have already explored this exercise of reflection and imagination with unexpected success in my book Encounters. Since its publication, already some years ago, many readers have asked me to publish more “encounters.” Due to my work and the vicissitudes of life, with its priorities and matters of urgency, I have not been able to do so until now. Finally, you have the expected book. But it is not a continuation of the first one. In twenty years my topics and approaches have changed. And my style also.

In the writing of this book, even more so than on other occasions, I have availed myself, as the scribe of the parable, of “things new and old.”3 I give my heartfelt thanks herein to all who have contributed to providing me the ideas from which I have drawn upon to write these pages. Deserving special mention is Marta Prats Fábregas who, once again, has not spared efforts in the editing of my texts.

The book is especially intended for those who say to themselves, along with the poet: “I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.”4 If these reflections manage to reveal any clue that brings them closer to the Teacher, I will feel doubly happy because of the hours I enjoyed meditating on him and writing for them.

1 . Phrase attributed to Dr. Albert Schweitzer by Gilbert Cesbron, in his theatre play Il est minuit, Dr. Schweitzer.

2 . Martín Gelabert, Salvación como humanización: un esbozo de una teología de la gracia, Madrid: Ediciones Paulinas, 1985, p. 13.

3 . Matthew 13:52.

4 . Rabindranath Tagore, “Song Offerings” poem 13 (cited from Select Works, Madrid: Edimat, 2015, p. 76).

Preface

The Temptation

What does the lone traveler seek through these wastelands? Where is he headed on the way to the desert? As soon as he leaves the narrow fertile plain of the river, and as he ascends inland, he gradually and hopelessly goes deeper into an increasingly barren place. Having arrived at the summit, when he has lost sight of—faded in the distance—the memory of the last gray-green palm trees, the traveler finds himself lost in a desolate vastness of broken rocky places, whitish like abandoned ossuaries, in which not even goat herders dare to venture. An endless succession of inhospitable stony areas injured by sun-scorched gullies and blinded by dust storms on windy days. A barren plain without shelters, bristling with parched hawthorns, where scorpions survive as best they can.

With the memory of the coolness of the river still drenching his hair, the young man penetrates the ardent loneliness of that wretched place.1 In the distance he hears the howling of jackals driven mad by hunger and thirst, which wait for nightfall to descend into the valley to satiate their instincts. A bird of prey, perhaps a falcon, hovers menacingly, against the cloudless blue sky, gliding over its prey.

What does the wanderer seek where there is hardly anything? What have all those explorers, high-risk adventurers or enlightened mystics searched for in so many other deserts upon embarking on unthinkable journeys alone, testing their limits? Perhaps something more than the fascination of the unknown and its secrets of unexplored areas. Because like it or not, solitude is also the place of inevitable encounter with your own inner world, with its hidden regions, so full of surprises and dangers like the most remote corners of our planet. The desert is the unavoidable place of encounter with oneself.

Furthermore, whoever does not fear approaching the absolute, in any place, however remote, runs the risk of also encountering God, who is everywhere. For that reason, the desert, that environment where no one distracts the attention of the seeker nor can anything conceal the certainty of the unavoidable presence of the infinite, has always been the chosen place by those who feel the pressing need to withdraw themselves from the world to meditate or to pray.2

The newly baptized seeks a remote place to reflect on what has just happened to Him in the Jordan.3 A divine voice has spoken to Him, and He understands that God is calling Him to a unique task. But the voice from the sky has only said:

You are my beloved son; I feel proud of you.4

Jesus needs to hear more of His father’s voice to know what he expects of Him. The moment has arrived to discover what His mission will consist of and to decide how to undertake it.

He has left His home in Nazareth, and His family does not understand. From the time this idealist carpenter insisted on transferring the shop to His brothers and said goodbye to His family, His mother does nothing but cry. None of His relatives support Him. Some don’t cease to ridicule Him by treating Him as the enlightened one, a fanatic or a madman, and are now undoubtedly happy to lose sight of Him.5 No one, not even He, is a prophet in His own land.6

He needs an environment of serenity and calmness to reflect on His vocation and assume the risks that He shall face if He wishes to follow the voice from heaven. Here, in the silence of the desert of Judaea, He expects to find the peace and inspiration that will allow Him to hear in the depths of His heart God’s response to His numerous questions.

Nonetheless, this inhospitable wilderness is a fearful place, without water, without food, ephemeral hideout of bandits, the dwelling of hungry vermin and deadly snakes. Whoever gets lost in it knows that he must deal with any adversity and without any protection. Not in vain, the majority of human beings fear solitude and so avoid it at all cost. Moreover, a certain level of isolation becomes unbearable for whoever is afraid of his own inner emptiness, or for whoever has already sensed that undesirable presences peer out from the depths of his being.7 And even if this may not be his case, Jesus does not ignore the reality that, for many, such a desert is a sinister place, where demons are said to prowl . . .

But what real danger can there be in the desert for someone like Him? Does evil not abound more in cities? Since the most ancient times on earth, there are no remaining paradises shielded from danger, not even the most uninhabited. Because when we find ourselves completely alone, rarely are we in good company . . . There they are, lurking, whether we like it or not, our inevitable thoughts and the inescapable demands of our bodies.

The dreadfulness of the desert is that it forces us to assume what we truly are, without external help, and unable to feign or escape. There, we are really ourselves. The desert is, so far an obligatory place of passage for those who seek to find themselves, the par excellence environment of the test, because we must always make the most difficult decisions in the insulated stronghold of our inner solitude. The desert is, consequently, a dangerous battleground against invisible enemies.8

The contrast between this desolate wasteland and His previous experience cannot be greater. Upon the sublime moment Jesus feels embraced by the love of the Father in the coolness of the water in the middle of the river, He is stricken by the ardent solitude of this wilderness. Several hours of traveling have sufficed to make him go from communion with God through the open heavens to the painful sensation of desertion, and, what’s worse, to the absolute conviction of the presence of enemies lying in wait.

Jesus senses that He is not alone. He perceives the proximity of hungry beasts and evil spirits. He finds himself lost between the subhuman and the suprahuman, with no more company than his vulnerable humanity and the dark world of the shadows.

In this manner, forty days.9

Forty nights debating in doubt, unable to communicate with anyone, defenseless in a harsh and merciless land, and under a sky that seems infinitely distant . . .

When His desertion becomes more hurtful, when He fears fainting from starvation and anxiety, at the brink of delirium, He notices that someone approaches. The biblical passage calls this intruder by the generic name of peiradson, “the Tempter.” But Jesus does not yet know who it is. Soon, He will realize that His worst enemy is stalking Him.

But how can someone as spiritual as Jesus be tempted? Someone like Him who seeks communion with God should not run that risk . . .

Completely false.

In this world, the path of the believer necessarily passes, time and time again, through the desert of temptation. To be tempted is the price of being free, of being able to choose between various options and of running the risk of making a mistake. That freedom and that risk are the characteristics of human nature.10

To Jesus, assuming our condition represents having to confront, necessarily—as Adam and Eve, as the Israelites in the Exodus, as each one of us—decisions that often hide menacing risks. It is in our own being, at the core of our free will, where they attack with greater treachery and where we must face the forces of evil.

This young man, idealistic and generous like no other —when seeking divine answers to His human concerns has just responded to the call of God by completely surrendering to His will now that he is making concrete plans to dedicate his life to Him—finds himself abandoned in the agonizing desert of the test.

“Can it be,” He asks himself, “that God is telling me that I am mistaken?”

His doubt-stricken soul will end up learning through its own experience that “Never does one leave the ranks of evil for the service of God without encountering the assaults of Satan.” 11 Himself included or, rather, He more than anyone.12

The tempter, the treacherous peiradson, is very clever. He will not allow himself to be so easily recognized. He knows that, in order to convince someone, he has much greater assurances of success if he disguises temptation as necessity, if he turns it into an emergency or passes it off as something licit. Therefore, following his artful tactics, perfected after millennia of success, he begins by insinuating in the mind of the tempted a thought that is logical, a desire that seems legitimate . . . a voice that can recall that of an angel.

Every true temptation sooner or later gives rise to an inner, profound, subtle, struggle camouflaged as good excuses, disguised as laudable reasons, and nuanced by all extenuating factors and all possible justifications. That is how the tempter presents himself to Jesus, like the voice of a celestial messenger who comes to help Him.

Jesus has gone forty days without eating.

He is not fasting for the purpose of carrying out a purifying sacrifice or a meritorious exercise, and much less with the intention of undergoing a weakening diet to make everything “even more difficult,” as in a risky circus act. No. His fasting, learned in the Holy Scriptures,13 is the harsh collateral effect of the total availability that His intense inner struggle requires. He finds himself so immersed in prayer, so focused in His search of the divine will that He refuses to be distracted by anything else, and renounces, until able to get out of His trance, the search for food. However, like every man in similar circumstances, He feels hungry. His need for food is pressing, real, inevitable. In His exhausted body, the instinct of survival is thrown into despair.

The enemy is awaiting that moment at which the imperious need to survive, to which our mortal body is subjected, offers no way out: the banal desire to eat has turned into a matter of life or death.

But, because Jesus is profoundly engrossed in His search for God, the enemy will camouflage his temptation by placing it within the framework of the sublime spiritual experience that the Nazarene has gone through on occasion of His baptism:

Are you sure you heard correctly? What was the voice from heaven saying? Did it not say: “This is my beloved son?” Then, if you really are the Son of God, your Father will not allow you to die from hunger. Draw upon your divine power: the Creator of the universe can make bread even from these stones. You say that you want to be treated like any other human? All men have the right to eat when they suffer from hunger. Further, they have an obligation to do so without reaching these absurd extremes in which you placed yourself endangering your life.

Jesus knows that His destiny, and perhaps more than that, hangs in the balance of a correct decision. He also knows that upon accepting to become a man He has assumed sharing even the ultimate consequences of the vulnerable human condition.14 When we, mortals, are hungry and know that we run the risk of dying from starvation, we eat; and, if unable to feed ourselves, we faint. For that reason, when we desperately lack food, we seek it, we purchase it at whatever cost, we beg for it, we steal it . . . but we can not make bread from stones. Human beings have unavoidable limitations and Jesus has decided to live within the same limits that constrain us.

That is why, His first temptation in this desert, although it implies resorting to the power of God outside of the divine design, has the same essence as many of the temptations suffered by any common mortal, yesterday, today, and always:

You know that you should not. But if you desire it so much, do it.15

The tempter has been very cunning. He has limited himself to introducing an enormous temptation in a tiny wedge, through the word “if . . .” There is room for tremendous doubt in that conditional, minute particle: “If you were really a Son of God, he would not allow you to die like that . . .”

But Jesus replies to one word of doubt with two words of faith:

It is written: “Man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.” 16

Jesus thus puts the word of God above the voice of His own desires.

It is as though he were saying: “God would not approve my cowardice. He has made it very clear. Human beings are not mere animals. Of course our bodies inexorably need food, but our spirits also need, in order not to be mistaken, to listen to God and pay heed to him. Divine revelation exists for that purpose: to nourish ourselves with it. If I can trust His word, I should not doubt that He can get me out of this predicament without Me having to cheat at all.”

In the face of this first failure, the tempter becomes emboldened. But in his own audacity he has shown his true colors. The perfidious peiradson, already identified as “the devil,” prepares his second assault. Now he also positions himself in the religious field, barging into the dominions of his coveted victim.

Because Jesus trusts God so much that he blindly clings to the promises of divine protection contained in the Scriptures, the devil searches for another biblical cite susceptible to manipulation, and, cleverly taking it out of context,17 he attacks his victim in the realm of His own faith, pushing Him to take a shortcut in His ministry.

If you cite the Bible, so will I. Given that you have so much confidence in your Father and in his promises, demonstrate it. There you have it, before you, the atrium of the temple.

Observe how Your people pray and implore for the coming of the Messiah around the altar of sacrifices. Go down and tell them that You are already here, that they do not need to wait any longer. Does the Bible not say that the angels will accompany You in Your glorious descent? Thrust Yourself now and end their wait; end once and for all the suffering of Your people and Your own torture.

To throw oneself through the air toward the temple is not to take a deadly leap without a net and with the parachute closed. This is not about the temptation to make a BASE jump. Jesus is tempted to make a much riskier leap. Descending in the middle of the temple carried by angels equates to presenting himself before the people of Israel as it expected that the Messiah would appear; that is, “I will fill this temple with glory.” 18

The tempter, again, is not asking Jesus to do anything bad, but rather to simply agree to appear before His co-religionists as they expect. The proposed spectacular appearance could bring Him enormous advantages at the time. If He presents himself as the expected liberator, His immediate success is guaranteed. He would be received no less as the glorious King His people yearn for.

But Jesus reflects and says to himself:

Careful. In the design outlined by God, that is not the plan for my first coming, but for the second.

The devil is proposing to Jesus that He take a shortcut to avoid problems in His salvific mission. But He, who in fact has come to this earth to give us victory over evil’s complex web, does not want to obtain such with the irresistible force of spectacular miracles but through the conversion of the heart, eternally placing Himself at the service of humanity up to the sacrifice.

If Jesus appears in the temple as the tempter implies, He is acting outside God’s plan, forcing the latter to change His plans. He would be tempting Him. In this way, He would not be answering the great challenge cast to God by fallen humanity, which has always been the same:

Come down if you are a man.

And Jesus is there, accepting that challenge until its ultimate consequences.

He therefore responds once again entrenched in his condition of man:

I am not willing to tempt God or to impose My ways upon Him. I submit to His plans, although at the moment they may seem incomprehensible and may be painful.

Jesus is being tempted to muddle up His faith with the audacity of presumption, and His trust in God with the insolence of demanding a miracle from Him, and thus disregarding His plans.

This second great temptation of Jesus, like many of ours, has, ultimately, this challenge:

Dare yourself; nothing is going to happen to you. Do whatever you feel like doing; the easiest, the most gratifying. Forget about what God says and do not think about the consequences of your actions.19

The devil bites the dust of a new defeat. But he does not give up the battle. He well knows that Jesus has come into the world in an attempt to save planet Earth from its self-destruction, and, if possible, to save each human being from that evil that kills him. For his third assault20 the enemy leads him to contemplate in His reflections, from the heights of His plans of salvation, the spiritual and historic reality of this world.

If you think about the outlook of humanity, you can already see that it is lost as a whole. Human beings have fallen into my power. They are all mine. Well, then, I will give them to you if you bow down and worship me. In other words, they can all be yours if you do as I say, that is, if you do as I do.

Jesus very well knows how the enemy has waged against humans, how he makes us fall into his clutches and separates us from God: to this effect he uses shrewdness, deceit, seduction, money, pleasure, pressure, violence, whatever, to impose upon our will.

Satan is in fact the provisional master of the world, in the sense that all human beings, upon succumbing to his will in one way or another, place themselves, without realizing it, under his dominance. Jesus comes to establish the kingdom of God, that is, to try to make good reign once again in this world and in each one of us. He knows that winning us over for God, appealing to the free choice of each one of us, knocking at the door of each heart, will take him a long time, and will eventually not be able to gain us all. And what if He were to force everyone to love, ending once and for all the human tragedy? Does God not want everyone’s salvation?21

Well, for that He would have to force human liberty, use the strength of divine power. Doing so would be possible, but it would transgress the ethics of the Creator, who wants only free subjects. It would be to succumb to the methods of Satan, upholding that he is right. It would be to acknowledge failure of the divine plan and to justify the accusations of the devil, yielding before him, which would amount to worshiping him.22

Jesus sees the cunning trap and once again replies like a man of faith:

I worship only God and I serve only Him.

The third great temptation of Jesus is the temptation we all encounter when we say to ourselves:

Obtain whatever you want at any cost. The end justifies the means.23

The three temptations attempt to make Jesus separate Himself from divine will, leaving aside His human condition, and to use His divinity for personal gain.

But the account of these decisive moments in the life of Christ clarifies what temptation truly consists of, also for us: it is the struggle with a dangerous desire that challenges us to exercise our freedom on the fringe of divine will.24 In the face of that challenge, we can resist or surrender. But to desire what is unsuitable and to be tempted is not yet to fall. To sin would be to let oneself be captivated by desire in a game of capitulations that has all the ingredients of erotic seduction, that is, one is tempted when lured and enticed by one’s own desires.25

Every temptation contains one of these elements: giving in to a compelling urge that prevails over reason, succumbing to the irresistible desire to see something improper come to fruition, or acting in a way that puts one’s will above all.26 For this, we do not need to look for occasions: they present themselves. We are at war with the worst of ourselves, in a corrupt world, and our daily life is in the middle of the greatest conflict.27

Jesus has been tempted as are the best believers,28 as a mere mortal, overwhelmed and sensitive.29 But He has overcome temptation, remembering that He is also a Son of God, and that if He seeks His help, the latter will never allow Him to succumb.30

Nothing defeats temptation better than the decision to turn to God.31 Because, at the end of the day, it is about choosing between the will of God and ours, behind which the devil always attempts to camouflage himself.

After overcoming this decisive moment, exhausted, at the edge of the abyss, Jesus relishes the incomparable joy of victory over temptation: ephemeral, momentary, as all of ours,32 without witnesses, but heroic.

Having prevailed over the assaults of the enemy latched on to God, the Teacher surfaces stronger, and consequently, more capable to overcome his next assaults.33

The enemy has fled. “Now you can hear the full depths of the desert silence. It isn’t the quiet before the storm, or the silence of the end of the world, but a silence that only covers another, even deeper, silence.”34

Upon putting the backpack on his shoulder to leave the desert, headed toward other struggles, Jesus has already decided that He will be a Teacher, and that He will dedicate Himself to teaching other mortals, one by one, the difficult art of surviving in a besieged world.

He knows that, to carry out His plan, He will have to face new dangers.

What He still ignores is that His first followers are already waiting for Him.

1 . In the biblical world, deserts are places suitable for transcendental encounters. Great spiritual leaders such as Moses and Elijah spent some of the most decisive periods of their lives in the desert. Following their example, throughout history thousands of men and women have renounced the world seeking spiritual enlightenment or communication with heaven in a withdrawn life.

2 . Jesus usually withdrew himself to deserted places to pray, at times including at night (Matt. 14:23; Mark 6:46; Luke 6:12, 9:28).

3 . See Roberto Badenas, Encounters (Madrid: Editorial Safeliz, 2000, pp. 13-27).

4 . Mark 1:11; Matthew 3:17; Luke 3:22.

5 . Mark 3:20-21; 6:4; John 7:5.

6 . Luke 4:24; Matthew 13:47.

7 . Giovanni Papini, The Story of Christ, Madrid: ABC, 2004, p. 47.

8 . See, for example, the case of the prophet Elijah (1 Kings 19:4).

9 . These forty days of solitude in the desert remind of other biblical periods of quarantine, always experienced as periods of test: the forty-year exodus in the desert from the city of Israel, which took it from the slavery of Egypt to the promised land; the forty days Moses waited at Sinai before receiving the revelation of the divine law (Exod. 34:28); or the forty days Elijah spent refuged in the desert until finding the strength that would allow him to face the wrath of queen Jezebel (1 Kings 19:8).

10 . Fyodor Dostoyevsky, in his parable titled “The Grand Inquisitor” acknowledges “only one who can appease their conscience can take over their freedom” The Brothers Karamazov, Madrid: Cátedra, 2006, p. 410).

11 . Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, Safeliz, Madrid: 2006, p. 68

12 . The account of the temptations of Jesus in the desert is found in the Gospels of Matthew (4:1-11), Mark (1:12-13) and Luke (1:1-13); but only Matthew and Luke give details about the temptations. Luke varies the order of the last two. Here, we follow the order of Matthew given that the latter was a direct disciple of Jesus, and his account presents them in a clearly progressive order. (cf. Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, pp. 74-77)

13 . Regarding the meaning of the biblical fast, which does not always or necessarily imply not eating or drinking, see Isaiah 58:5-11.

14 . Regarding the incarnation of Jesus, see Philippians 2:5-8.

15 . —Well, a wallet fell on a subway seat: and with plenty of dollar bills. These rich people have money in abundance and you, poor wretched soul, breaking your back at the service of these exploiters for a wage of pittance. No one sees you. Take the money it contains, which might not be much for the owner. What’s more, it serves him well for being careless. Based on your need of this money at this time . . . who knows if it is God himself who has placed that wallet there, close at hand, in response to your prayers?

16 . Matthew 4:4, citing Deuteronomy 8:3; the verb form of the Greek perfect gegraptai denotes something that “has been written and is still in force.” Jesus nourishes his contact with God through the Sacred Scriptures. His key to defeating, his “magic formula” is: “Gegraptai: It is written, or God teaches (in the Bible).”

17 . Psalm 91:11-12.

18 . “and what is desired by all nations will come, and I will fill this house with glory . . .” (Hag. 2:7-8, NKJV). Divine glory in the Bible is always associated with the presence of angels.

19 . —We are alone, silly. Don’t be straitlaced. No one will enter. My wife is traveling. We crave it. Why should we rely on what some papers say to share what our bodies desire? What difference does it make that your husband believes you to be only his, if the only thing that matters in life is the present pleasure?

20 . We notice that the tempter appears in these temptations in a subtle progression, in an increasingly more personal and direct way. The first attack appears as a mere protective insinuation on the part of the peiradson, the tempter (Matt. 4:3). The second bursts in like a clear deceit from the diabolos, the infiltrated, “the one who gets in between” since that is the word’s original meaning in Greek (Matt. 4:5). His third assault will expose him as Satan, name that the Bible quintessentially gives to the enemy of God (Matt. 4:10).

21 . “The Lord [. . .] is patient with us, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Pet. 3:9; cf. John 3:16-17).

22 . The essence of the temptations of the desert is not to make bread from stones, to plunge from the top of a tower, or to kneel before the devil, but to benefit through improper ways, to impose something on others by means of force or to yield to the corrupt methods of despots. It is more a problem of means than ends, because, as Ghandi would say, “the ends inevitably come out of the means.”

23 . The executive position that remains open in the corporation appeals to me more than anything in the world. I know very well what I can do to get my boss to give it to me. If someone finds out, maybe they will consider me a typical social climber who flatters his superiors in order to prosper. But what’s at stake is my future. This is my time, and I will not let it go to waste.

24 . Aside from these temptations that Jesus told his disciples about, we are not aware of the others, and we can only imagine. “The last temptation of Jesus” was not the one attributed to him in any film or novel, of succumbing to the weaknesses of the flesh, although he was also tempted in that. Jesus was young and he certainly did not lack charm.

25 . The apostle James (1:13-15) explains that sin is born (or is “given birth to”) at the end of a process that begins with the enticement of temptation, and it materializes in consummated facts. Given our sinful nature, the more we move closer to that denouement, the closer we are to committing the irreparable.

26 . 1 John 2:16 Calls these seductive elements “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.” Innumerable forms of seduction lie in wait for us and incite us to make mistakes that distract us from what is truly important and separate us from God.

27 . “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). “It has been said that the devil’s last trick was to spread the report of his own death . . .” (Giovanni Papini, The Story of Christ, p. 50)

28 . The Bible says that Jesus was tempted in everything just as we are but that he never sinned (Heb. 4:15). Hence, we must not confuse temptation with sin.

29 . “Many look on this conflict between Christ and Satan as having no special bearing on their own lives; and for them it has little interest. But within the domain of every human heart [. . .] the enticements which Christ resisted were those that we find it so difficult to withstand [. . .] the test upon appetite, upon the love of the world and upon the love of display which leads to presumption. These were the temptations that overcame Adam and Eve, and that so readily overcome us.” (Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, p. 68)

30 . Since we are fallen beings, our victory lies with picking ourselves up each time we fall, and better yet, in not falling again. The only way to defeat temptation is how Jesus defeated it: with the help of the divine power.“Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted” (Heb. 2:18).“Jesus revealed no qualities and exercised no powers that we may not have through faith in Him” (Ellen G. White, Desire of Ages, p. 433). “For unless He met man as man, and testified by His connection with God that divine power was not given to Him in a different way to what it will be given to us, He could not be a perfect example for us” (Manuscript 21, 1895) Seventh-day Adventist Bible Commentary. Washington: 1955, Review and Herald publishing association. “With the same facilities than man may obtain, withstood the temptations of Satan as man must withstand them.” (Ellen G. White, Signs of the Times, June 9, 1898)

31 . “Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means.” (C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, ch. 11)

32 . Luke 4:13 states that the devil left him “until an opportune time.”

33 . “Temptation once resisted will give power to more firmly resist the second time; every new victory gained over self will smooth the way for higher and nobler triumphs. Every victory is a seed sown to eternal life.” (Ellen G. White, Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, 1889, p. 120)

34 . Amos Oz, A Tale of Love and Darkness, Madrid: Ediciones Siruela, 2007, p. 376.

1

The Meeting

The peacefulness of the afternoon falls upon the hollow of the valley. The shadows stretch their embrace through the crossroads of the ford and slowly ascend the steep hillsides. The chirping of the cicadas begins to subside; and from the ponds—behind the oleanders in bloom—the croaking of frogs rises in clear notes.

The quavering bleats of flocks returning to their pens slowly fade. From the bramble patches and myrtles arrive the humming sounds of bees, intent on the sickly sweet remains of the last berries. Below, beyond the murmur of the sugar cane fields and the quagmires bristling with reed beds and papyruses, the Jordan meanders, loamy and green.

Two young men wait impatiently, at the crossroads, under the precarious coolness of the willows.

They have arrived at this mystical place, following many other seekers of God. It could be said that at the bottom of this depression—steeped in history, the most sunken in the world, in the void left by major cities struck down by the divine fire1—the distance from heaven pains the most; consequently, the nostalgia of drawing closer to Him is felt the most.

From their precarious observatory, the travelers spot, mounted on the last cliff of the desert, the monastery thereon built by the Essenes, facing the Dead Sea, in order to always maintain, in the monks’ sight, the accursed effects of sin, and to distance themselves from it with their ascetic rites.

If Andrew and his friend were to decide, they could knock on its door that very afternoon and request their admission in the community, giving in to recent temptations. A novice of their age, proudly draping himself in his white robe, had extolled, with a serious frown and an ardent look, the purifying virtues of monastic spirituality:

To rid ourselves of evil, we must withdraw from the world. There is no possible salvation in Israel. Do not listen to its apostate clergy: it deceives you. We are the faithful remnant, those who live by the sanctity that the divine judgment demands. Your corrupt Teachers of the law do not hold the truth. The Teacher of Justice is the only one who teaches it. Keeping its precepts2 is the only path to enter into the kingdom of God.

The young man seemed to be very convinced. Yet, is it not that the kingdom of God can be accessed only by renouncing the risks of life in society? Is it not of cowards to flee from danger? His friends the Zealots, with whom they sometimes met in secrecy, stressed upon them almost the opposite:

We must impose the kingdom of God and build it ourselves, breaking by any means necessary the yoke of the idolatrous oppressor. We have to fight with our own hands, with our own strength, and even with our own blood if necessary, against the enemies of the Lord of hosts if we want the Messiah to come to free us from Rome and from all the evils.

Their friends, the Zealots, were also very sincere and fanatical, brave up to the sacrifice. One of them had died as a martyr, crucified for being a terrorist a short time ago.

Whom to follow? That is the big question that torments the idealist minds of the young travelers. Which path leads to salvation . . . that of a fight to the death against the adversaries of God, or that of isolation from the world?

Foolish dilemma, reply the Sadducees with haughtiness. Heaven belongs only to God. For mortals there is no more “kingdom” than what they get hold of for themselves. The Almighty metes out blessings and punishments in this life because there is no other. He rewards or sanctions according to His sovereign will, without us always knowing the reason for his decisions.

To which the Pharisees claim:

Grave heresy. The Torah clearly indicates the route to follow: God saves through observance of His law. Divine justice will inexorably reveal itself in the coming judgment regarding your conduct in this life. Your actions save or condemn you. After the inevitable death, the supreme Judge decides if the scales of your good actions, prayers, fastings, and charities, surpass the weight of your sins.

Perplexed at this crossroads of paths, the young men do not know what direction to take. That is why they have traveled from afar to here, the ford of Bethabara, driven by their uncertainty and by their absolute thirst, to hear the new prophet in person. Compelled by his message, they have answered his call:

Repent, for the kingdom of the heavens approaches, and demonstrate through your fruits the conversion of your hearts. Let God cleanse you of your past, being reborn, through baptism, into a new life. Only God can save us from ourselves and transform us through his power. I baptize you with water, to mark the breaking of a new birth, but He who comes after me will submerge you in the atmosphere of the spirit.

They have heard it from his lips. To quench their spiritual thirst, the restless travelers have to steer their course toward a new guide, and such is not the Baptist.

Are you not the awaited Messiah? his opponents had asked.3

No, I am not. I am but a voice calling in the desert to prepare the way for him. The Teacher who is to come is your guide. Moreover, He is the proclaimed Lamb of God, the only one capable of saving the world from its sins and of opening the gates of heaven for us all.

The clue does not seem very clear, but the travelers already know that the key to what they are seeking is not there, in the ford of the Jordan, neither in the caves of Qumran, nor in the temple of Jerusalem; and neither in the daggers of the Sicarii nor in the classrooms of the Teachers of the law. The course to follow will be indicated by the promised Savior.

Their restlessness is incited when the prophet points out in the distance, with his gaunt right hand, a wayfarer walking down the side of the mountain:

At last, there He comes. Follow him wherever He guides you.

Seized with emotion, the young men impatiently draw near to encounter Him. That man who approaches whistling, with an angular, sun-tanned face, is the Teacher whom they must follow.

But the wanderer is unaware that He is expected and continues without stopping.

Although His pace is steady, He does not appear to be in a hurry, and the young men do not have any trouble catching up to Him. Intimidated by His proximity, they do not dare to address Him and walk behind Him, feeling inhibited. They follow Him so closely that the traveler notices their presence, stops while smiling, and with a deep but welcoming voice, asks them:

What do you seek?4

The young men, taken aback, do not manage to reply, because they do not know how to articulate what they seek. They feel disoriented, confused, dissatisfied with their lives and wish to find a path that will give them meaning and make them happy. But they do not know how to put into words the object of their search.

The Baptist had given the traveling Teacher the enignamtic title of “The Lamb of God.” 5 Strange name that, like a key or a secret code, seems aimed at clarifying a mystery. However, they, at the moment, have few details to resolve the enigma.

The Lamb of God so far from the temple, apart from the altars, alien from the circle of priests and their sacrifices?

The lone traveler, who does not exude an aroma of either incense or smoke but of thyme and rosemary, repeats his question. And it has nothing to do with rites, clergy, or theologies: it has to do with them, with their lives, with their here and now:

What do you seek?

What they seek is undoubtedly not very different from what other serious young people search for at some point in their lives. They seek, beyond any immediate urgency, what they truly lack in order to direct their dissatisfied existence: a reliable guide, a lasting love, someone with whom to share life, a gratifying vocation, a faith, a project that will make them dream.

What do you seek? The traveler insists.

And they, who cannot envision what they seek, muddle through with another question:

Teacher, where do you reside?

They want to know where to find the Teacher when they need him. Their question is equivalent, in an indirect and possibly unconscious manner, to the answer: “Perhaps we seek you.” Because many times, without knowing, we seek something when in reality we need Someone.

The two friends wanted to know where they could listen to the teachings of the new rabbi recommended by the Baptist. They do not expect anything now nor do they ask for anything special. They do

not feel worthy of the personal attention from someone like Him. They want only to join the group of His possible followers. They hope that it will grant them access to the privilege that is enjoyed by the disciples of the few Teachers they know in their environment: to attend on a regular basis, after the day’s occupations, the place where the Rabbi shares His knowledge. They have so many concerns that, in a brief meeting, along the side of the road, they cannot receive what they yearn for. They desire to be alone with Him, to sit at his feet and receive his teachings.6

Their question is timid and respectful; it indicates, further, that those males are younger than the one whom they already call “Teacher.”7

Jesus understands their question well. He also knows that “to reside” is more than to stop for a moment. To reside is to dwell, to inhabit, to live in, or to remain. And He has no intention of staying there, by the desert. For that reason, he does not show them a place, but a presence:

Come and see.

That is, “Follow Me.”

To the surprise of the travelers, the new Teacher does not confine himself to any permanent domicile. He lives in the “come” and “see” of those who follow him. He is found coming and seeing: departing from where we are and discovering what we could not see. Drawing nearer to it and observing closely . . .

The traveler tells His road companions that in order to find what they seek, it is enough for them to come and see.8 If to come one must get under way; to see, one need only to open one’s eyes. The essence of their search entirely rests upon two action verbs, which he conjugates as two invitations: to approach him, and to keep the eyes of the soul wide open.

Additionally, God, whom they truly seek, can be found everywhere, even where most unexpected. It is not necessary to turn to sacralized spaces for that purpose, where some would like to demarcate the privileges of the encounter. Because there are people who soon after becoming aware of a place where someone once had a glimpse of the divine immediately take control of it and create upon it an oratory, a temple, a basilica or monastery, which they zealously keep under their own tutelage. To find him, you need only follow him. And that is what John and Andrew are doing.

With this warm welcome, with his intriguing message, and with the endearing enchantment of his voice, Jesus bewilders those who are accustomed to being guided through orders and prohibitions. He unsettles and disorients them, because the Baptist himself had incited them to the conversion wielding threats of axes and fire.9 Jesus proposes a transformation that goes in the same direction but through a different route, despite also using strong images at times. In this manner, a new era in the spiritual experience of these young men is ushered in. The speech from the Baptist served, at the time, to raise in them the fear of the divine judgment; but, to the new Teacher, what these young men now need is not to tremble in fear but to shudder with enthusiasm.10

He knows the depth of their thirst and what can transform their lives. That is why He invites them to follow Him, not with orders or demands, and not with resorting to the fear of punishment, but with a simple and cordial welcome, making them desire the adventures of discovery. His positive pedagogy arouses in these young men the urge to progress, advance, and grow.

The newly initiated Teacher has just come across His first two disciples.11

He has given up the easy routine of His profession as a craftsman to follow the difficult vocation of an educator. He has stopped building and furnishing homes to start building and furnishing minds, a challenging call that imposes on His spirit with all the force of that which comes from heaven.

Upon closing His carpentry shop, His family circle and His neighbors insisted that He was making a serious mistake. Being such a good professional and with His exceptional talent, leaving the modest security of His customers, thereby risking His future, seemed like madness to them. It always happens like so. If the greatest resistance to do something big tends to come from ourselves, the most reticent opposition to assume new risks can emerge from our closest surroundings and from those who love us most.

But Jesus does not seek an easy life, sheltered by His many relatives:12 He wants a useful life, even if no one supports Him. His ideal does not belong to this world, and for that reason He does not follow in the footsteps of the majority. He has a dream, a grand plan. He wants to try something new to build a better world, changing people’s lives.13 And He aspires to share his ideals, dreams, and plans with the best youth of the country. He does not have experience, titles, means, or influences. But He has God and that is enough to feel optimistic, spirited, and strong.

Furthermore, His first two disciples are already there, waiting to receive their first lesson. This lesson, initial and definitive,14 is the most important of all. It consists of merely discovering the power that the divine presence transmits in the life of whoever seeks it. And He is pleased to accompany those who really seek Him, no matter how young they are and how confused they find themselves.

There is no inhabited place on the entire way from the Dead Sea to Jericho. However, the Teacher without hesitating takes His new friends to the place where He claims to reside at the moment. Without a doubt, it involves the place where He had stayed during his visit to the Baptist, about forty days ago . . . a cave such as many that abound in the area? A shed built with reeds, like those that are occupied one after another by travelers at the side of the road? Or rather, He leads them to a selected place whereupon to pitch the tent He is carrying in His backpack, like so many travelers?15 The old texts do not state it. But they specify that the young men went and saw where the traveling rabbi was dwelling, and that He shared with them His poor lodging until the following day.

They would soon decide to remain with Him forever.16

They will never forget the exact hour of that decisive moment: the tenth hour, penultimate hour of the afternoon.17

The day draws to a close on the travelers. The sun sets between golden-reddish clouds. But in the hearts of those three young men something very new awakens.

A magical, pivotal encounter for the disciple apprentices as well as for the new Teacher . . .

What might they have talked about on that unforgettable evening under the stars? The writings of the main characters do not mention it.18 They specify only that the moment at which these young travelers encounter Jesus and decide to stay with Him marks a milestone in their history. Because with Him they found what they were seeking, many things that they were not seeking, other things that they were seeking without knowing it and something much better than what they were seeking.

The lesson that the new Teacher begins to impart involves a verb that is conjugatable in all persons, in all tenses, and in all forms: the verb “to love.”19 An irregular and unpredictable verb where it exists because it is at odds with imperatives; it lacks perfect tenses; and its present tends to be imperfect and its future conditional. A verb that demands to be exercised in all its forms and with all its synonyms: to like, to appreciate, to take in, to support, to value, to respect, to share. But because the conjugation of that verb does not fit in books, these first disciples must learn it in the action.

With astonishment, they discover that the personification of the verb to love has set out to encounter them on the path of their search, and is catching up to them where they are, in that unexpected camping.20 If to love is really to seek the good of the other, to want their happiness, these disciples discover love incarnate in Jesus, solidarity in person, and the practical demonstration of what it is to really love, unconditionally: not an ephemeral feeling but an engine of action. Vital principle that permeates their person and that makes them recognize in their Teacher someone who comes from God.21

John, probably the youngest disciple, years later alludes to that feeling as so indefinable and new, which he began to experience that day in the presence of the Teachers’s amazing capability for empathy, “feeling accepted and understood but not daring to express gratitude for it.”22 And since then he appoints himself with the most daring honorific title anyone had ever flaunted: “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” 23

Therefore the great lesson from the Teacher to His first disciples and to all those who will follow them is to learn to conjugate the verb to love. Beginning right there and continuing in their homes, in their neighborhoods, in the towns where they live, in the shops where they work, in the spaces where they enjoy recreation and, of course, in the sanctuaries where they worship. If the divine Word has come closer to them because of love, practicing the verb to love will now also be the way to get closer to another and elevate themselves to heaven.

And so, the young men discover that, in the company of Jesus, to find the meaning of their lives, they do not need to seek a place but a person. That to feel the presence of God, withdrawing themselves to the solemnity of a temple is not necessary. His closeness is also found in the refreshing embrace of water from a bath at sundown. That to enter into communion with the sustainer of all things, participating in the ritual of a sacrifice, is not necessary. One can take communion with Him by gratefully sharing several bits of pomegranate and a handful of dates. That to get closer to the Creator of the universe, no mystical initiation is required; allowing yourself be carried away by the emotion of an astonished contemplation of the stars suffices.

The travelers have found the Teacher whom were searching for. But the latter puzzles them. He shatters all their plans. He does not fall within any of their categories. They do not know how to describe Him: admirable adviser, Teacher and friend, path and goal, love in person, serene joy, truth and life . . .

His words are at the same time so simple and profound that each of His reflections seems inexhaustible, in a way that they never reach the depth of his thoughts.

There is, as well, something that deeply moves and scares them. Because the Teacher caresses, with amazing realism, the impossible dream of the most ambitious prophets and reformers: to change the world.

And they would like to be a part of that dream.

But, will they be capable of following the Teacher in such an inconceivable plan?

1. The Depression of the Dead Sea is the site of Sodom and Gommorah, consumed according to tradition by fire coming down from heaven (Gen. 19:1-28).

2 . Regarding the Essene community of Qumran, see Flavio Josefo, The Wars of the Jews, Book 1, Barcelona: Orbis, 1985, pp. 122-126.

3 . John 1:19-28.

4 . These are Jesus’ first words recorded in the Gospels (John 1:35-39, NKJV).

5 . John 1:35-37.

6 . Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, p. 112.

7 . My studies of the gospels have led me to the conclusion that these first disciples of Jesus were younger than 30 years of age. The first and foremost reason is that they call him “rabbi” (Teacher). Jesus was then about 30 years of age (Luke 3:23) and had never worked as a Teacher, but as a carpenter. In that patriarchal society (of traditional gerontocracy) it was not conceivable that a Teacher were younger than his disciples, or that he would take it upon himself to teach prior to 40 or 50 years of age. If these young men address Jesus calling him “rabbi” it was because they clearly appeared to be younger than he. Until the end of his ministry, Jesus continued calling them paidia (John 21:5), Greek term that means ‘children’ or ‘little children,’ an appellation that would be unthinkable in that culture if they had been older than he. They were more likely to be about 20 years of age. Their youth would explain their enormous availability, which allowed them to follow Jesus full time for more than three years, what would have been very difficult if they had had families to support (Luke 18:28-31). See Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, p. 73.

8 . “Only Jesus Christ, who bids us follow him, knows where the path will lead [. . .]. The following is the joy.” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship. The Following, Salamanca: Sígueme, 2004, p. 12)

9 . See Matthew 3, 7-10 and parallels.

10 . In reality, Jesus threatens only those who dedicate themselves to threathening those who are weaker than they; that is, the Scribes and the Pharisees, who think that fear serves to obtain desired changes. But the threats achieve only external and fleeting changes. True transformation is born simultaneously from within and from above.

11 . The term “disciple” describes a follower of a Teacher who is in the process of learning.

12 . The Gospels say that Jesus had four brothers, named James, Joseph, Simon and Judas, in addition to several sisters (Matt. 13:55).

13 . “The life of Jesus can be seen from the perspective of change rather than conservation.” He was the Reformer of reformers, and His lever for reform was the revelation of God’s plan for humanity.” (George Knight, Philosophy & Education, Miami: APIA, 2002, p. 255)

14 . According to Matthew 28:20, the last words of Jesus will be: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

15 . Paul of Tarsus, Jesus’ great disciple, made a living producing such tents (Acts 18:1-3).

16 . This availability confirms that these disciples were young. Some of their reflections, like the one expressed in Matthew 19:10 “if this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry.” It would imply, based on the use of the aorist tense, that they were still single. The fact that we later find the disciple Peter already married, does not mean that he was older, given that the recommended age for marriage by the rabbis was from 16 to 24. His impulse of wanting to walk on water (today we would say “surfing without a board”) is much easier to understand as a juvenile fit—which the Teacher does not care to indulge—than a mature decision of an adult, who would not have dared to have such a crazy idea (Matt. 14:28-33). More than three years later, when John and Peter compete by racing to see who arrives first at the tomb, John has the naive satisfaction of indicating that he won the race (John 20:3-8). If you bear in mind that in such society the act of adults running in public was frowned upon, this “feat” clearly appears as a juvenile thing.

17 . The “tenth” hour is equivalent more or less to two hours before sunset (John 1:39).

18 . The author of this account is John, one of the travelers, who would go on to become an apostle (John 1:35-42).

19 . John 1:1-14.

20 . Hence, the first activity of Jesus’ public ministry was camping with the young men . . .

21 . “Every glance of the eye, every feature of the countenance, [. . .] expressive of unutterable love” (Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, p. 81). “God is love” John would write years later (1 John 4:8).

22 . [Translated quote] Antonio Muñoz Molina, Sefarad, Madrid: Editorial Santillana, 2001, pp. 291-192.

23 . John would sign his Gospel with the pseudonym of “the beloved disciple”or “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (John 21:20). “Even John, the beloved disciple — the one who most fully reflected the likeness of the Savior— did not naturally possess loveliness of character. He was not only self-assertive and ambitious for honor but impetuous and resentful under injuries. [. . .] The strength and patience, the power and tenderness, the majesty and meekness that he beheld in the daily life of the Son of God, filled his soul with admiration and love. Day by day his heart was drawn out toward Christ, until he lost sight of self in love for his Master. [. . .] The power of the love of Christ wrought a transformation of character.” (Ellen G. White, Steps to Christ, Madrid: Safeliz, 2018, p. 75)

2

The Invitation

The travelers arrive at Bethsaida with mixed feelings. On one hand, they are happy to return home; on the other, they find it difficult to say goodbye to the Teacher, who continues His route toward Galilee.1 Interacting with Him has been an unforgettable experience, which they would like to extend. Will they manage to get Him to stay with them, even if only for one more day?

The village receives them with its loose embrace, nestled between the lake and the stony hill, dotted with hamlets and small fields. Tender green sown fields stand out among the fallow land. Black cypresses, twisted carob and some pomegranate trees encircle the terraces. In the morning peace, the blows of the locals’ mattocks resonate crisp and deep against walls and cisterns, the cacophony of seagulls shaking in tempo.

Those on the way barely stop for an instant to drink from an old waterwheel in the first orchards. They are in a hurry to introduce the Teacher to their people.

The Galilean is an impassioned road companion, a free spirit. His new disciples are disoriented by the unpredictability of His actions and expressions. His personal way of teaching, in contrast to the Teachers from His land, is so open and new that each of His proposals seems to be a challenge, and even an act of protest. But for Him freedom is not the possibility of acting on a whim but the occasion of choosing the best.

The Teacher aspires to nothing less than changing the world, transforming people one by one, as attempting to produce a new type of human being.2 However, He is neither naive nor crazy: He is as realist as life itself. For that reason, He instilled His disoriented disciples, in addition to astonishment, with trust and respect.3

In every word He makes it clear that imparting lessons is not the same as being a Teacher. The Teachers of the law in His environment always want to teach; with Him, one always wants to learn.

It surprises them that He accepts followers as ill prepared as they are. He implies that, “in the soul of one who is ignorant there is always room for a great idea.”4 That is why He distrusts the arrogant scholars, who are so imbued with their own knowledge that they are incapable of learning anything new. He criticizes that, having the key of knowledge, able to open the gate of God’s kingdom, “You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to.” 5

From the beginning, He has made it very clear that He does not need to avail himself of locations reserved for lecturing sessions, neither to meet with God. He teaches them at any time and makes them feel close to heaven right where they are, whether on the road, under the palm trees of an orchard, among almond and olive trees, or at the very mountain.

On their way back to their homes, Andrew and John express an urgent desire to follow such a unique Teacher full time.

His school is one of free access, open to everyone. Without classrooms or schedules as in it you always learn and at any place . . . with no more manuals than divine revelation and the infinite universe. With no more exams and tests than those involved in existence. And without a graduation diploma, for in the school of life one never graduates.

The enthusiasm of these disciples is such that they do not cease to share their find with their families and friends.6 Influenced by the personality of the Teacher, aspiring to continue learning from Him, these restless, young men rejoice with what was discovered in their first lessons.7 Andrew transmits his joy to his brother Simon and introduces Him to Jesus. From one to another, they gradually pass on the news.

And that is how Jesus encounters Philip. Shortly after seeing him, with that glance that is much more far-reaching than the eyes, He tells him:

Follow Me.

Jesus appears not to see people for who they are, but for whom they can become.

The new disciple, dazzled by his new guide, runs in search of his friend Nathanael,8 to share with him the Joy of the discovery.9 With his heart pounding with excitement, he gives him the news:

I think we have found the Messiah.10 This Teacher is not any rabbi.

Impatient and eager for his friend to meet his new Teacher, Philip summarizes in one phrase the essence of all the conversations they held about the awaited liberator:

He must be the one sent by God, the one promised by the prophets. He is called Jesus, that is, “savior,” although people know him as “the Nazarene,” because he is the son of Joseph, the carpenter from Nazareth.

But his friend Nathanael,11 with a rough frankness typical of him, replies with a mocking gesture of mistrust:

Another Messiah? Do you not think that we already have enough disappointments? What’s more, can something good come out of Nazareth?12 How can you believe in a Galilean “savior?” Look in Scripture and you will see that no prophet ever comes out of Galilee.13

Nathanael is an idealist, committed and serious. But even the best believers have prejudices and run the risk of being mistaken.

Philip is hurt by his friend’s doubts, but he has no arguments to dispel them. Because he greatly cares for Nathanael, he foregoes discussing the subject with him. Convinced of its truth, he resorts to the only irrefutable reasoning, the same that was maintained by the Teacher with His first disciples, and that since then would be the principal argument of His recruitment campaign:

Come and see. Get out from under your fig tree, and follow me to Him. Convince yourself.14

Nathanael follows him half-heartedly.

Upon meeting Jesus, his disillusionment is confirmed. The demeanor and attire of the young rabbi does not go together with the idea that he has formed about such an important figure as the Messiah. He even finds it difficult to see in Him a Teacher worthy of trust. There, he only sees a mere traveler, dressed as they are, with the humble attire of poor people.15

But when Jesus observes Nathanael, who approaches him reticently, flaunting skepticism and self-sufficiency, he tells him with an intriguing smile:

“Well, if it is not clear to you that I am not even a good Jew, I see you as a true Israelite, in whom there is no deceit.”

It is like telling him:

“I like your sincerity and frankness. But don’t trust appearances too much.”

Surprised by these words, Nathanael exclaims:

From where do you know me?

The Teacher is very observant. It is not common to catch a young man praying. Healthy young people prefer to presume to be skeptical than devout. Jesus likes sincere and brave young people; that is why he confesses a small secret to him:

“Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you. I immediately noticed what you were doing.”

Nathanael blushes. His modesty prevents him from revealing his spirituality. He also feels that his heart cannot hide anything from the Teacher’s piercing glance. He is ashamed of his foolishness and of his unfounded prejudices. He now senses that his friend Philip could be right.

Soon, after observing Jesus more closely and listening to His words, a strange certainty, as coming from heaven, enlightens his mind, and nudges him to confess:

—“You must be the Son of God, the awaited king of Israel.”

And Jesus replies, radiant, happy to have found a disciple so full of potential as that one:

—“You believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these. I promise you that from now on, if you know where to look, you will see heaven open and the angels of God descend and ascend on us.”

Which is equivalent to saying: “my presence will put you in direct contact with heaven.”

Do you remember the story of our father Jacob? Fleeing from threats made by his brother, he found himself lost in a strange land, burdened by his anxiety, far from everything he loved. But God was there, with him, in the midst of his solitude, because he never leaves us. I assure you that here today, next to this fig tree, if your eyes of faith were to open, you could also see heaven open, and a direct path that takes us to the throne of the universe. If you open wide the eyes of your soul “you will see that the heavens are open and never close.”16Any place where God is sought is a Bethel, “house of God and gate of heaven.”17

Nathanael, like Jacob in his flight, also believes to awaken from the torpor of a dream to a new reality in which the divine, what seems to be most inaccessible, is found, thanks to the Teacher, within reach of a heartbeat. Within him resonates the echo of the words of the fugitive patriarch:

“Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.” 18

And he tells himself, without saying it, what many others who have been discovered by him have said to themselves:

“Christ saw me under the fig tree. He knows far more about me than I do, far more than I could learn from psychoanalysis.19

And it is that the Teacher has the rare capacity to see beyond appearances, to detect the presence of the divine in the human and the celestial in the quotidian. With Him, you learn to see the old things through new eyes, and to stop seeing the new things with the same old eyes. His strange capacity for love permits Him to discern radiant butterflies in the most ugly caterpillars and admirable saints in unworthy sinners. Because to really love “is to see the beauty that exists in the heart of the other person.”20

There are Teachers who teach by guiding their students like horses: step by step. The majority of us need to be guided like that, respecting our pace. There are others who teach by promoting the good that they find in the disciple, encouraging him to advance and grow, because we all learn better when we are encouraged. The new Teacher educates in both ways: keeping in step with everyone, and motivating each one, stimulating any progress with honesty.

The Teacher is further able to understand the dreams of His potential disciples. That is why He can dream of them as they are not yet and imagine the reality they can turn into. He knows that a human being grows when aware of being dreamt about.21

Therefore, these young men, like so many others who will follow, by sharing among themselves the new perspectives that their encounter with Jesus adds to their lives, gradually spread their invitation to follow Him and, little by little, cause the small group of disciples to grow. With such enthusiastic spokespersons, the work of the unusual Teacher increasingly spreads, accepting men and women where they are, just as they are, and step by step transforming them into new beings, full of incredible possibilities.

Like Nathanael, we each have our own discernments, some of them false. It is difficult for us to understand that God may propose different paths than those we know. For that reason, The Teacher baffles with the apparent simplicity of His approach.

We all tend to admire the extraordinary, the great accomplishments of humanity, the great figures from history.22At the same time, as it is clear that we cannot all be first in everything, and very few can bring to fruition their delusions of grandeur, the vast majority condemn ourselves to fitting into the category of the “masses.” This reality appears to have triggered defense mechanisms in an infinite number of human beings, which keep them in what the classicists called aurea mediocritas23 and that could be translated as “Apology of the acceptable.”

Across all societies economic hardships, ignorance, life’s injustices, the challenge of studying certain careers or finding interesting work undermines the natural optimism of childhood and the idealism of adolescence. As youth gradually passes and adulthood becomes complicated, circumstances lead the discouraged to avoidance, resignation or inhibition, often producing lives that are routine, conformist, disillusioned—doomed to failure.

Invariably, many young people quickly lose their most legitimate ambitions, as it pertains to the sphere of study, work or personal success as well as to the spiritual realm of ideals and values.24 In all areas of existence, the prevailing inertia is to be content with mediocre results or to justify them.25 Not committing, not daring to try anything new because of convenience, because of fear of exerting effort or fear of ridicule, acquiescing to the “push and pull” between improvisation and despondency, when so many could attain a highly motivating reality with a bit of effort and more will.

That’s where Jesus sets Himself apart from other Teachers.26 It is true that He preaches a simple and modest lifestyle, but He arouses noble aspirations and teaches a profound philosophy of existence. He radiates “a hidden power, which cannot be wholly concealed.”27 Even His enemies must confess that “No one ever spoke the way this man does.” 28

If there is something that is made clear to his followers, it is his desire that they achieve excellence:

What do you do that is extraordinary? — He will ask his disciples demonstrating that He does not settle for little. He even dares to encourage them to be “perfect,” that is, to develop the innumerable possibilities pulsing in their beings!29

This is how He transforms their lives, demonstrating that they are capable, and what they can become if they let in the power of divine grace.

Since the start of his ministry, the Teacher calls young and even younger people to turn their ordinary lives into extraordinary lives. To change that mediocre existence of which they do not feel satisfied, for something grand, noble and beautiful. By calling them to follow Him, He invites them to enroll in a mission committed, consecrated to a great cause. His calling removes them from their routine reality and casts them to a fabulous, risky, intense, difficult, even heroic adventure in which there is no room for either meaninglessness or superficiality.

Those who follow Jesus soon stop being ordinary citizens. His example stirs in the depths of their beings the answer to the call from the ideal, and, in that way, those young people will soon be willing to continue the impassioned journey initiated by Him.30 By giving meaning to their existence, Jesus gives their ordinary lives an extraordinary dimension.

The Teacher senses that His ministry on this earth may be very brief. For that reason, He experiences it in such an intense way. After having spent His youth as a carpenter31 building homes to dwell in, plows to cultivate the land and yokes to share the loads, He now has set His mind, as an educator, on building a more inhabitable world, devising new tools to cultivate hearts, and searching for more united ways of sharing human hardships.

Since not entirely pleased about the manner in which the majority of people live their spirituality in the religious community they were born into, He decides, rather than abandoning it, as most who are dissatisfied do, to do something infinitely better, but much easier, in other words, gradually build together with His followers a new community, which he decides to call His “church.”32

The representatives of the clergy and the leaders of the country mutter:

Do not listen to him. This carpenter is not qualified. He is an ignorant megalomaniac.

He does not know what he does.

But He does not become disheartened for He knows that, when someone decides to do something important, He must face the opposition of those who would have wanted to do the same—but do not venture to take the risks—with the criticism of those in support of something different, and above all, with the resistance of those who never do anything.

At the beginning, He relies on nothing more than His own support and already has close to 30 followers. But the passion of those first disciples won over for His cause is so infectious that they themselves gradually extend the invitation to others.

When He decides to start building the community of believers with which He dreams, the Teacher makes it very clear that He does not want to establish a religion, but a school. He already has a true religion: it is the one God has revealed. Now He wants to teach for the purpose of putting it into practice. The essence of his doctrine can be formulated in a pair of sentences:

A pure and unblemished religion in the eyes of God consists of tending to the needy in their straits and not allowing itself to be contaminated by the world.33 Or, said in a different way: being a good believer consists of living in communion with God, and in treating fellow man with the empathy and solidarity with which one would like to be treated in his circumstances.34

To Him, spirituality and education have a common objective: to teach to think, to teach to be, to teach to live and, consequently, to teach to coexist; that is, to teach to love.35

This courageous reformer has many innovative ideas and very few prejudices. For that reason He accepts in His team young and old, learned and ignorant, men and women,36 something completely unheard of in that world, because He also accepts them without any prior training. And He does everything independent of the most-established religious institutions of their time, that is, outside of the temple and of the synagogue. He knows that “the special truths for this time are found, not with ecclesiastical authorities, but with men and women who are not too learned or too wise to believe the word of God.”37

His great topics are life itself, courageous truth, sincere love, true freedom, real happiness; thus, His focus is formation of character. He tells His disciples that, if they are unhappy with the society they live in and want to change it, they must begin by allowing themselves to be transformed. Only in doing so can they convince others, providing them better reasons to live and a higher scale of values. To this effect, He asks them for reflection, discipline of body and mind, eagerness to work, joy in sharing, the desire to carry out responsibilities and respect for others.

He teaches them not to confuse humility with fear, or contentment with laziness.38 That is to say, to recognize their limits; yet, without refusing to use their capabilities, allowing themselves to be guided by God to make them perform to their highest ability.

Being able to be content with few material goods does not mean to not have great plans and noble ambitions, or to accept with excuses what is inexcusable, or to confuse spontaneity with superficiality. God has for each an ideal of progress and excellence. Hence His endeavor to spur the utmost use of the possibilities without falling into an inferiority complex, nor giving in to vanity or arrogance.39

The young Teacher knows how to encourage, excite, tactfully correct, motivate to desire to give their best, and He does so with patience, firmness and affection. By means of constant analogies, stories and images, and above all, through His example, He teaches His disciples to understand the Scriptures, to interpret reality, to listen to nature and to learn from experiences, to not fear death and to take existence seriously; to pray intelligently and to fill their daily activities with spiritual strength; to live in solidarity, to exercise forgiveness; to be willing to suffer before causing others to suffer and to undergo evil before causing it.40 In a word, to live entirely positive lives, which will turn their surroundings into a better world.41

In a short time the common lives of John and Andrew, of Simon, of Philip and Nathanael, by reflecting that of the Teacher,42 will gradually turn exceptional. They need only follow Him and continue moving forward with Him on that steep and narrow but thrilling path, which goes from the lowest lands of their human mediocrity to the highest peaks of the divine realm.

And they will follow Him so closely that the members of His group will be known by their environment as “those of the Way.”43

1 . John 1:43-44.

2 . Augusto Cury, The Master of the Masters, Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2008, p. 75.

3 . “Jesus Christ said great things so simply, that it seems as though he had not thought them great: and yet so clearly that we easily see what he thought of them. This clearness, joined to this simplicity, is wonderful.” (Blaise Pascal, Thoughts, no. 797, Madrid: Valdemar, 2001, p. 309)

4 . Oscar Wilde, De profundis, Barcelona: Seix Barral, 1977, pp. 92-93.

5 . Matthew 23:13; cf. Luke 11:52.

6 . John 1:40-51, Bethsaida means “house of fishing.” There are at least two places that claim that name, both along Lake Genesareth.

7 . John and James, sons of Zebedee, must have been quite young at that time, considering that three years later their mother was still trying to find them work (Matt. 20:20). The fact that John effortlessly leans on Jesus in the last supper, is better understood as a juvenile gesture of trust (John 13:23-26) rather than a calculated stance of an adult, which could have other connotations. The fact that this same disciple, near the year 100 is still serving, is fully understood if he was about ten years younger than Jesus.

8 . John 1:40-51.

9 . Dietrich Bonhoeffer: The Cost of Discipleship. The Following, Salamanca: Sígueme, 2004, p. 235.

10 . Text based on John 1:43-51.

11 . “Philip knew that his friend was searching the prophecies, and while Nathanael was praying under a fig tree, Philip discovered his refuge. They had often prayed together in this secluded spot, hidden by the foliage.” (Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, pp. 83)

12 . “Their uncouth pronunciation of Aramaic, the common language of the time, caused them to be held up to ridicule [. . .]. The Nazarenes were contemptuously called by the old equivalent to our “dung,” am-ha-arets, men of the land, farmworkers.” (R. Aron, The Hidden Years of Jesus, Bilbao: Ediciones EGA, 1991, pp. 43-44)

13 . John 7:52.

14 . The questions having to do with Jesus: ‘why does a believer hold that his salvation is in Jesus Christ?’ as well as other questions of the same nature: ‘and who do you say that I am?’ can only be answered personally [. . .] because the question and the answer are only possible if previously there has been a non-transferable experience: the experience of the encounter.” [Translated quote] (Martín Gelabert, Salvación como humanización, Madrid: Ediciones Paulinas, 1985, p. 13)

15 . Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, p. 83, 84.

16 . Ibíd., p. 116.

17 . The episode of Jacob’s dream is told in Genesis 28:10-22.

18 . Genesis 28:16, NKJV.

19 . Emmanuel Carrère, The Kingdom, Barcelona: Anagrama, 2015, p. 61.

20 . Jean Vanier, cited by Peter Van Breemen in The God Who Won’t Let Go, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 2001, p. 98.

21 . Idea adapted from Danilo Dolci’s, Everyone Grows Only if Dreamt About.

22 . From the oldest of times to the Guinness era, our world extols champions.

23 . This expression is well known among Latinists, and it comes from the Latin poet Horacio (who lived from 65 to 8 BC. It appears for the first time in his Odes, Book II, (Ode number 10 to Licinio).

24 . In Spain, the term“ni-ni generation,” applies, since the first decade of 2000, to young people who neither study or work, and even more precisely to those who do not want to either study or work.

25 . In the religious field, a lukewarm attitude is usually referred to as “the Church in Laodicea» (Rev. 3:14-22).

26 . Dr. Augusto Cury talks about the wisdom of Jesus in this way: “There are two types of wisdom: and one is far superior to the other. The first type is measured by how much a person knows, but the second is gauged by the extent to which a person is conscious of how little he really knows.” True wise men are the most convict of their ignorance […]. Superior wisdom tolerates, inferior wisdom judges; superior wisdom relieves, inferior wisdom blames; superior wisdom forgives, inferior wisdom condemns. Inferior wisdom has diplomas, no one graduates in superior wisdom, there are no masters or doctors and everyone is an eternal apprentice.” (The Master of Love. Analysis of Christ’s Intelligence, Nashville: Grupo Nelson, 2008, p. 15)

27 . Ellen G. White, Ministry of Healing, p. 51.

28 . John 7:46.

29 . Matthew 5:47-48.

30 . “Jesus has taught something infinitely better than a sophisticated purification or a civic morality based on justice; he has sought to transform men in his likeness, according to the words of his announcer Ezekiel: ‘I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.’” (G. Papini, The Story of Christ, p. 326)

31 . In the Hebrew tradition, manual labor is sacred: “He who works for a living is greater than he who shuts himself up in idle piety,” Because God already put man in the Garden of Eden“to work it and take care of it” (Gen. 2:15). And the work is so honorable, they go on to add, that: “an artisan at his work does not need to defer to the greatest of doctors.” Therefore, to name just a few of the most prestigious rabbis, Hillel was a woodcutter, Yehuda a baker, and Yohanan a cobbler. The first great Christian rabbi, Saul of Tarsus, was a tentmaker (Acts 18:3).

32 . The word that our Bibles translate as “church” (ekklesia in Greek) means a gathering of people who have replied to an invitation (Matt. 16:18). “With the calling of John and Andrew and Simon, of Philip and Nathanael, began the foundation of the Christian church.” (Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, p. 86)

33 . James 2:27.

34 . Matthew 22:37-40.

35 . cf. Enrique Rojas, Live your Life, Planeta: Temas de Hoy, 2013, p. 83.

36 . Luke 8:1-3 states that there were many female disciples; it mentions by name Mary Magdalene, Susanna and Joanna, the wife of Chuza, the manager of Herod’ household.

37 . Ellen G. White, Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 79.

38 . cf. Philippians 4:11.

39 . Philippians 4:13.

40 . Dionisio Byler, Jesus and Nonviolence, Terrassa: Clie, 1993, p. 48.

41 . Augusto Cury asserts: “If the political, social and educational worlds had minimally experienced what Christ experienced and taught, our miseries would have been eradicated, and we would have been a happier species.” (The Master of Masters, 2008, Thomas Nelson, pp. 189-190)

42 . “As the flower turns to the sun, that the bright beams may aid in perfecting its beauty and symmetry, so should we turn to the Sun of Righteousness, that heaven’s light may shine upon us, that our character may be developed into the likeness of Christ.” (Ellen G. White, Steps to Christ, p. 69)

43 . Acts 9:2; 19:9, 23; 22:4; 24:14, 22.

3

The Call

The lake shines under the morning sun, dazzled by the white hamlet of the fishing town and the luminous sand of the beach. Its blue reflection is slightly broken by the breeze, which scatters a flight of seagulls over the still of the waters.1

Leaning against his boat, in the elusive shade of the sails, a young fisherman prepares his nets, while keeping watch over, on a rustic reed bed, a string of fish set out to dry.2

Repairing knots is not a pleasant task, and least of all after an evening of a fruitless catch.

With a tired gesture, Simon drops the old net on the sand and swipes the back of his arm across his forehead, pushing his wet curls back. His exposed back, weather-beaten by the elements, shudders for an instant, beaded with sweat.

Always the same, every day: in the evening, fishing; in the morning, to the market; then, to repair the nets; and much later, to try to sleep . . . to start again by nightfall. And like so, day after day, always the same. As if his life were trapped in nets even more tangled than those in his hands.

If only we could purchase new netting, we would not have to spend so much time each day repairing these, so worn and torn. But times are bad and loans are difficult to repay. . . .

Simon remains still, with his gaze lost in the horizon. The gleaming of the sun over the water forces him to half close his dream-filled eyes. He would prefer not to be a mere fisherman all his life, tethered to an old boat and some fragile nets. Especially now that he got married and must support his wife and his mother-in-law.

To be a fisherman in Capernaum is to doom oneself to a monotonous succession of nights fishing and of days struggling with runaway sleep. It is to continue being embroiled in a hopeless struggle against misery. Nothing can satisfy the desires of a heart like his, thirsty for adventures and (why not?) for greatness.

Simon dreams, just like some of his fellow fishermen, of getting out of there and filling his inner emptiness with something great. But the only incentive of each workday is the uncertain catch with which to fill the baskets that his wife takes every morning to the market: some days more, others less, but always the same routine.

Except today, as the Teacher whom his brother Andrew follows has approached him and has asked to borrow His boat. He wanted to speak more thoroughly with a group of followers, who absorb His words and do not let him leave the jetty. The fame of the Galilean has not ceased to spread throughout the region. A mixed crowd wants to hear in person from the man about whom incredible things are said.

Because the words of the Teacher have such charm that they ensnare like nets.

Many still remain there, unable to say goodbye, while the children splash around amid laughter and games along the beach.

Leaning on the boat, barefoot in the water, this tireless man addresses, friendly and patient, the people who crowd around him yearning for words of life. And every so often, extending His hand to the surface of the water, He splashes the little ones who run around teasing him, without caring that the edge of His robe gets wet.

Returning to his task, Simon’s attention is drawn back to his tangled knots.

The fisherman continues waiting for a decisive event that will separate him from his ties and transform his monotonous existence into an exciting adventure. Something similar to what his brother believes to have found by following the new Teacher, that rabbi whose charm he can’t seem to escape.

Other than that, nothing seems to change in his harsh life.

At the port of Capernaum, in this small inland lake, merchant ships will never arrive from distant lands, through which Simon—who has never been able to leave the surrounding areas—would like to travel.

Perhaps the army . . . The Romans continue recruiting soldiers for expeditions of conquest in remote regions. Who knows if thanks to Rome he could achieve a bit of glory, and his name would remain immortalized forever in the history of the world. But now that he is married, that sounds too unreal, and those chimeras soon vanish from his mind, erased like footprints in the sand, washed away by the incessant breaking of the waves at his feet.

His chest, weathered by the water and the sun, slowly rises in a nostalgic sigh and slowly sinks back down, defeated and helpless, such torrent of contained energy, that he does not find—and fears never finding—a channel whereby it would be worthwhile overflowing.

Sitting on the sand, Simon continues repairing the nets, while the sun slides over his tanned skin and sketches elusive shapes upon the rhythmic movement of his robust arms. His thoughts wander without rhyme or reason, crashing against the invisible prison walls of his reality: doomed to be a fisherman his entire life, depending everyday on a basket of fish. His future is discerned at the same time so predictable and uncertain like the waves upon which he risks his life every night to take his measly sustenance from the sea.3

But that is how the few inhabitants of that fishing town live: He, his brother, his parents, Zebedee and his children, his friends . . . Simon sometimes speaks to them about the sharp sting of his discontent and of his mad desire for improvement. His friends support him, but the burden of work itself keeps them from supporting his dreams, and they allow themselves to be led by the routine without thinking about anything other than daily sustenance, which they must at any cost go out in search of over the waves of this modest lake.

That same night the boats were already fishing when the moon appeared, in an exiguous crescent that hardly made it possible to view the silhouettes of the ships on the waves. Simon had waited for the right moment to cast the net. Upon the agreed sign, in silence, he went about as usual: releasing the mooring and slowly lowering, without noise, the weights from the side of the ship concealed by the shadows.

From the other boats arrived the stifled murmur of the same maneuver, as every night. Then came the more sensitive work of quickly hoisting the netting before the fish could escape. The catch depended in large part on the speed and skill of such maneuver. Simon was a skillful fisherman who knew his trade better than did most.

When he sensed the sign of apparent tugs, he raised the net in one sudden stroke. But it was empty. He had to try again, once again lowering the netting over the side of the boat. Having failed, the fisherman repeated this fruitless operation several times throughout the night.

Simon was exhausted. The joints in his arms were hurting, and that backache was striking again. The bitter taste of defeat burned his parched lips.

The cool wind of daybreak made his perspiring body quiver, exposing tiredness and the anger of failure. In a last attempt, he pulled from the rigs. This time, they offered resistance. His boggling eyes opened even wider to see the silvery reflections of the desired catch emerging to the surface. But a muted scrape breached the net, and it turned up empty and torn, perhaps ripped apart by the mast of an old sunken ship.

The catch, until now fruitless, had now become impossible.

The exiguous moon had disappeared. Shrouded by darkness, Simon dropped himself onto the wet nets, and could not hold back his tears of anger. He swore to himself that, if he could, he would leave the fishing.

It was beginning to get light and at the glare of dawn, the fishermen returned, silent and glum, to the dock.

Along with his brother and his friends, he had stayed to repair the nets, attempting to delay the terrible moment of returning home with empty baskets, without fish and with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

And it was then when the Teacher arrived.

Strangers usually did not arrive too early to that beach, but Andrew and John recognized Him on the spot and ran to meet Him. Simon, inhibited, kept looking at that unique rabbi who, some days ago, had dared to kid him about his name . . .

Wow, you’re name is Simon Bar Jonah —He had told him. That of being an “obedient son of the dove” sounds good or that of “faithful follower of Jesus.” I hope that you are less of a pessimist that the old prophet . . . I see you as tough rather than meek. It would suit you better to be named Kepa,4 let’s say, Peter: What do you think about Beach Pebble?

The fisherman, disconcerted, did not know what to respond. Because in reality that is how he saw himself, like a beach pebble, worn by routine, unable to move from the shore on his own. His brother later explained to him that the new Teacher felt emboldened to change names because He was determined to transform lives.5

Intrigued by the charm of the mysterious rabbi, He could not resist when the rabbi asked to borrow his boat that same morning.

What does that man have that makes Him so irresistible, so convincing? His demeanor, His resolve, that air of knowing what He wants, an I don’t know what in the glance . . . That is how he would like to be. Yes, he wanted to be like Him, with that moving personality.

And while pondering it, he notices that his heart beats stronger. That Teacher who had already transformed the life of his brother was now starting to disrupt him as well.

The Teacher has finally finished speaking with the people, and proceeds with resolve along the shore. Andrew and his friends accompany Him. In the glorious joy of the morning, His white tunic flutters in the wind, like the sail of a ship without mooring.

With a wandering gaze, as if scanning the horizon, the Teacher abruptly stops, and advances toward Simon. The latter, embarrassed about having left his work to catch a glimpse of the visitor, lowers his head and picks up the net in an astonished manner, acting like trying to repair it.

A strange emotion overwhelms him to the point of not feeling completely in control of his actions. He can’t understand why the arrival of the Teacher has managed to confound him to this point. From the first time he saw Jesus, his image does not stop recurring in his dreams, and each one of His phrases penetrates his heart and makes it beat. As His words seem to have a life of their own6 and to fuel his dreams.

Determined, the Teacher approaches the fisherman.

“There you have your boat, Peter (The Teacher insists on calling him by that name). I appreciate your having lent it to me.”

And immediately afterward, he seeks to make eye contact and tells him with a smile, involving his partners in the plan:

“I see that fishing turned out bad. Why don’t you gather the nets and go back out to deep sea? Try and cast them again, but from the right side.”7

In other circumstances, Simon would have said that trying to fish at such an odd hour was madness, but he refrains this time, and replies, shyly:

“Teacher, after toiling all night we have not caught anything. But if you say so, I will cast the net in your name.”

Simon warily looks around, hoping that none of his fellow fishermen see him, and he feels somewhat ridiculous going back to fish in broad daylight. But his brother and his friends enthusiastically lead the way. Perhaps the unconscious desire to escape the magnetism of the Nazarene compels him to rig out the boat and start rowing against all logic.

As he sets out from the shore, Simon can’t help to turn around and, out of the corner of his eye, look at the strange Teacher, who is still standing on the sand, directing the operation, all the while displaying His splendid white teeth, as if he could see beyond what could be seen in plain view.

Yes, there, to the right.

At the motion of the Nazarene, the fishermen cast the recently repaired nets, as always, like so many times that evening. But upon raising them . . . Simon cannot believe it! They are astir from an incredible catch! He does not understand anything that is happening. This is more than a miracle.

The silvery fish leap splashing him in the face, sparkling under the rays of the sun. He has never seen a larger catch! Finally, they will be able to buy new nets, and if the locals arrive promptly to lend a hand, and they together can drag the fish to the beach without the net getting torn again—he might even be able to buy a new boat!

Following the indications of the mysterious Teacher, Simon thinks that his lifelong dream is becoming reality. This catch exceeds the best he could have ever imagined. His friends arrive with two more barges to assist him, and the three boats filled with fish are in danger of sinking under the weight of their precious cargo. Perhaps, despite everything, the life of a fisherman is not so unrewarding after all.

The return to the coast is a triumphant entrance, a stellar moment in the humdrum of his existence. Panting with excitement, Simon exults amid his partners’ cries of joy. The jubilation is such that a crowd of curious, local women, intrigued fishermen and lightly dressed small children show up to greet the boats, carrying one basket after another that are slowly filled with the jumpy fish.

Radiant and agitated, Simon struggles from one spot to another enjoying that hour of glory, that sudden wealth, which has turned him into a hero.

When the nets, which have miraculously resisted the pull of so much weight, become empty at last, and the baskets have disappeared to the market over the women’s heads and on the vigorous arms of the men, Simon turns toward the Teacher, who remains there, as if waiting for him. Barefoot on the beach, He entertains himself by returning several fish to the water that were rejected by the fishermen due to their small sizes, and restlessly leap as they sparkle over the pebbles.

Simon goes deeper into the lake to tidy himself up a little, relishing the pleasure of feeling the coolness of the water rising in soothing waves on his tired body, soiled with algae, sweat and sand.

Upon emerging with a cleaner body, his glance is caught by the cheerful and piercing eyes of the Teacher, who is still waiting for him. Then, he hears him express an unexpected invitation:

“If you follow me, Peter, one day you will fish for men.”

Simon hesitates for an instant in the face of the unusual call. It is not that he doesn’t trust the Nazarene; rather it gives him vertigo to realize that he is gambling his future in his decision, right there, at that very moment. He can choose to continue fishing, maybe even with a new boat. Or decide to follow the Teacher, who is earnestly calling him, and who promises to teach him—as well as his brother Andrew, and his friends John and Jacob—to “fish for men.”

What else in the world would he truly want the most?

This miraculous catch makes at least one thing clear: a single moment with Jesus is worth more than an entire life without Him.

Confused, Simon falls to his knees before the Teacher and tells him:

“No, rabbi, I am not worthy of being your disciple. Depart from me, as I am more a sinner than a fisherman.”

The Teacher stretches out His hand toward the man, who gently trembles upon the warm contact and, with an energetic embrace, pulls Him toward himself like embracing a friend.

Simon—or was he already Peter—maintains the steady gaze of someone who reads the heart and who sees in His eyes something that allows him to fulfill his greatest hopes; something capable of finally giving his life meaning, direction and purpose. He senses that fishing for men involves collaborating in the enormous mission that the Nazarene has at hand, of trying to save the world.

The strange words of the Teacher, also directed at His fishermen friends, resonate in full strength and mystery in the astonished ears of the new disciple:

Follow Me and I will make you fishermen of men.

Simon, who is now Peter, well understands what Jesus asks of him:

Leave your nets and boat here with your family. They will need them. I promise to embark you on another type of ship, to show you how to use other nets and to look for another catch: and certainly, in another sea; without seashores.

Fisherman of men. If that’s what it is to be like Jesus, it is what Peter desires. He does not understand the exact meaning of those words, but given whom they come from, he accepts them with bewilderment.

On the golden sand of the beach, the Teacher’s footprints are being etched, like a luminous wake that invites him to follow them. On it, the footprints gradually become indistinct, between unsteady and vigorous, belonging to whom no longer wants to continue being a mere fisherman of fish.

The afternoon sun still shines brightly over the lake.

Being left in the distance are the fisherman’s small village, his house, his boat and his nets. There too remains, busy in the market of the port, his family enjoying the amazing catch. Everything is staying behind, while Peter sees a radiant future open up before him, like the sun over the lake that almost blinds him.

His people do not understand why he leaves it all now. They do not know that what awaits him is worth much more than what he leaves behind. They do not yet see the abysmal difference that exists between the uncertain satisfaction of catching fish and the supreme joy of leading human beings to the kingdom of God.

1 . Gabriel Miro describes in this way the Lake of Gennesaret from Capernaum: “further away, the red ridges of Golan had to their left the hoary brows of Hermon, and to their right, the beautiful plain and Mount Tabor, with the mountain’s bare dome looking like a crown to the Jewish fatherland.” (Figures of the Passion, Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 1973, 9th edition, p. 17)

2 . Matthew 4:18-22; cf. Mark 1:16-20.

3 . Ellen G. White evokes this scene saying about Peter that “as he watched by the empty nets, the future seemed dark.” (The Desire of Ages, p. 151)

4 . The Aramaic Kepa or Cephas means ‘rock,’ ‘boulder’, in Greek petros, term that has evolved into Spanish until producing the name of Peter.

5 . John 1:42.

6 . When Jesus asks his disciples if they wish to abandon him to continue with their lives from before, Peter will answer: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

7 . Passage inspired by Luke 5:1-11.

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