Lord of the Sabbath (Mk 2:23-28)

By John R. Mabry

It was a particularly swealtering sabbath. Now, on weekdays, none of us much minded the heat, especially back when we were workers. My brother James and I, and Andrew and Peter, too, are fishermen, and fond of hot sun and rippling breeze off the Gallilean Sea. But we were not working now. We had left the synogogue a little while ago, and we were winding our way through the fields, taking a shortcut to the far end of town. Jesus and Peter were walking a little bit ahead of us, discussing a point of Law with all the ferver of young rabbinical students. Thomas and I were behind them. We didn't talk much that day. I think perhaps that was why we were walking together. We enjoyed each other's quiet prescence. Either that or Thomas found me less annoying than anyone else today.

I heard scraps of conversation of the rest behind me, almost exclusively on the subject of food. "With what?" I heard Judas snap. I guessed that someone had suggested we buy some bread. "I wouldn't mind a scrap about now, eh, Thomas?" He coughed, sniffed and looked around. This is as close to an admission of hunger as anyone was likely to get from Thomas. Not that he was always a grumpy sort, just closed, if you know what I mean. Only Jesus really seemed to know what he was thinking, and he teased him mercilessly.

"John." Jesus called back. I skipped ahead a couple of steps.

"Yes, Rabbi." I answered.

"What's all the mumbling about back there?" He was smirking a little, and by the look on Peter's face I guessed that the lumbering Gallilean was stumped again by the Rabbi's logic.

"Well, it's getting past noon. And we're sort of hungry."

"I thought so." His eyes scanned my face. He nodded and stopped. "Me, too,
I guess." He waited for the others to catch up. "Sorry about that," he said to us, "we just get started, and you know .... " Of course we did. How quickly the hours passed as we hung on his every word, revealing new wonders in the everyday world around us. Glimpses of Glory in every speck of dust. A glimpse at Peter confirmed that he was still lost in his own world of thoughts. Jesus bent over and caught a handful of wheat and rubbed his hands together briskly, separating the meat from the sheaf. "Here, Peter," he grabbed the fisherman's hand and dropped the grains of wheat into it. "Eat, it will help you think." Peter stared at his hand continued to be oblivious to the rest of the world. Jesus pointed to his head and then made bird motions with his hands and we all laughed at his joke at Peter's expense. Peter was certainly in space.

Jesus sat down cross-legged and began rubbing more wheat and popping them into his mouth, chewing noisily. We followed suit in the heat. At the gentle breeze. At the nutty tast of crunchy grain. And as we talked about nothing in particular it came home often, how the simplest things were so full of joy. Was it the Rabbi who made it so? I can't imagine sitting in a hot field in the full sun eating raw wheat being much of a meaningful experience. And yet at that moment I didn't want to be anywhere else in the whole wide world.

"We can have a proper dinner later." Jesus said between mouthfulls. "This'll take the edge off, some, eh?" He smiled.

"Oh, Peter," Bartholomew piped up, "can you tactfully ask Judith not to use us to try out new recipes? Last night was almost ... well, revolting."

"What an ingrate!" Andrew squealed.

Peter seemed to be conscious now and he chuckled. "Noone forced you to eat." Judith was his wife, and our usual cook.

"One learns better when one is fed." Bartholomew snapped.

"Oh, I don't know," I said, rubbing wheat in my own hands, "I think
that maybe a month of Judith's fish pie is a greater spiritual discipline than fasting."

Jesus choked on his food in spite of his efforts not to laugh. Everone felt very close. It was a very good day. It was days like this that made us all feel closer than we could really ever be. Like family, maybe. Like James and I. But different, stronger. Like one body almost.

After a little while, we were on our feet and off again towards the white-washed buildings at the edge of town. As we approached we became aware of several black-clad figures that stood with their arms folded, staring at us. Pharisees. We all became a little tense. Jesus' pace didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed, and I imagine he must have been thinking hard. Dark clouds rolled in upon my perfect day.

"How dare you!" shouted one of them, when we were within hearing range. "How dare you encourage your men to sin!"

"How dare you accuse me of something I have not done." Jesus answered quietly. There were five of them, all with faces like granite. Jesus would say likewise about their hearts.

"It is forbidden to work on the Sabbath! We have seen you harvest wheat and eat it. We have seen them do the same after you. You are an abomination to Jacob. What do you say for yourself? How can you answer God's Law?"

Jesus reached the side of the narrow street and sat in the shade of a house. "Have you ever read," he asked, looking up at them and shielding his eyes with his hand, "what David did when they were hungry and had nothing? Remember how he and his men entered the tabernacle and and ate the consecrated bread that was reserved for the priests alone?"

The pharisees shifted from one foot to the other and had a look on their
faces which plainlv read "What new trickery is this?" Peter began a grin on one side of his mouth and looked at Jesus with something more than love. He began to make a public show of picking his teeth.

"Well" continued Jesus, "He gave this sacred bread to his friends and did even one of them drop dead from the eating? No. My friends, you have it all backwards. Man was not made for the Law. The Law was made for man. You put so much work into keeping the Sabbath that you defeat it's purpose: to rest." He put his head back against the cool wall and sighed patiently. "Therefore, the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath." He opened one eye to see if they were still there. In fact, they were shuffling off mumbling about blasphemy and what could be meant by "Son of Man."