created by Jesus. He called himself the “True Vine.” Like the bread, the miraculous wine that had been offered to us had flowed out from heaven through Jesus.
Jesus nodded at me, acknowledging that I was beginning to understand. “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven—not as your fathers ate manna and are dead. He who eats this bread will live forever.”
Many of his followers deserted him that day. I watched them leave, shaking their heads. I remained with the Twelve and a handful of others.
We walked along the shore of Capernaum. “Does this offend you?” Jesus smiled sadly at our inability to grasp the significance of his teaching. “What if you see me ascend where I was before?” He summed up the lesson. “It’s the Spirit who gives life to the flesh, not the other way around. The words I speak to you are spirit, and they are life. But there are some among you who don’t believe.”
I thought I saw a glance at Judas, who walked to the side, almost by himself. I wondered if Judas would leave Jesus as many others had done.
Jesus asked us, “Do you want to go away too?”
Peter answered for those of us who remained, “Lord, who would we go to? You have the words of eternal life. Also, we’ve come to believe … we know … that you are the Messiah, Son of the Living God.”
Jesus walked on a few steps and remarked quietly, “Didn’t I choose you, the Twelve, and one of you is a devil?”1
I did not know then who he was talking about, but a cold chill passed through my heart. How could any one of us close to Jesus still not believe in him?
The season of Passover was upon us. Jesus told us that he would not be going to Jerusalem. He instructed us to go ahead of him. I left Galilee for home.
Chapter 15
The season from Passover to Pentecost, the giving of the Law on Sinai, extended for forty-nine days, and was called Counting the Omer. Each day as the season progressed, tradition called us to count the passage of days and recite this blessing: “Praised are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe who has sanctified us with his commandments, commanding us to count the Omer.”
Jesus returned from Galilee to stay at my house right before Pentecost. It had been about a year since Eliza and the baby had died. The vines were in full leaf and very beautiful, and I missed her more than ever. Perhaps the Lord knew that my grief was almost a sickness.
After supper Jesus said to me, “Come on. Let’s go walk in your vineyard.”
We set out together through the cool, broad leaves on the vines of Faithful Vineyard. The clusters of fruit were just beginning to set.
I was silent, lost in my own thoughts. Eliza had walked with me on this day of the Omer last year.
Jesus looked at the sun about to set in the west. “All your vines are planted running east to west. Tell me why.”
“The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. An arch overhead. As it passes over the vines, the grapes on each side are exposed equally to the sun through the day. Otherwise one side would only receive morning light and the other would be scorched every afternoon.”
Jesus touched a wild leafy tendril that shaded a bunch of berries. “What about this? No fruit on it. And doesn’t it keep sun from the cluster?”
I stepped into my role as vinedresser. It was good to be able to teach Jesus something he was unfamiliar with. “Good observation. You would do well in my vineyard.” I reached out and broke off the leafy branch.
Jesus smiled, “All show without substance, and it blocks the sun from the fruit, eh?”
“That’s it.”
He scanned the cloudless sky. “A long time ‘til rain. You water the vines one at a time?”
“Grapes are the only crop I know that need to be stressed to enhance flavor. I make my vines work a little harder. When I water, I pour the water just beyond the reach of the roots so they stretch and grow and set themselves deep.”
“I thought there would be more fruit on the vines.”
“I’ve