Jesus dismisses the boats saying: «I am not coming back» and followed by His apostles, and across the area which appeared to be very fertile also from the opposite shore, He turns His steps towards a mountain, which appears towards the south-west.
The apostles are walking in silence, communicating with one another only by casting glances. In fact they are not enthusiastic for the journey across this beautiful but wild area, which is full of bog grass that gets entangled with their feet; of reeds that cause drizzle of dew to fall on their heads from the edges of the leaves; of hazels that strike their faces with the hard canes of their dry fruit; of willow trees the fragile branches of which hang down everywhere tickling them; of treacherous patches of grass that seems to be growing on solid ground, whereas it conceals puddles of water into which their feet sink, they are in fact patches of foxtails and tares, growing in tiny pools and so thick as to conceal the element in which they have come up.
Jesus, instead, seems to be extremely happy in the midst of all that greenery and the thousand hues of all the flowers, which creep on the ground, or stand upright, or cling to other plants to climb up, forming thin festoons strewn with light convolvuli of a very delicate mallow pink, or forming delicate blue carpets for the thousand corollas of water myosotises, which open the perfect cups of white, pink, blue corollas among the large flat
leaves of the water lilies. Jesus admires the tufts of the water reeds, as soft as silk and pearled with dew, and He bends joyfully to watch the delicate features of foxtails, which lay an emerald veil on the water. He stops ecstatically in front of the nests which the birds are building, flying happily to and fro, trilling, darting from branch to branch, working joyfully, with their beaks full of wisps of hay, of down of reeds, of flocks of wool picked on hedges, which had torn it from migrating sheep… He seems the happiest person in the world. Where is the world with its wickedness, falsehood, sorrows, snares? The world is beyond this green flowery oasis, where everything scents, shines, smiles, sings. This is the earth created by the Father and not desecrated by man and man can be forgotten here.
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He wants to share His happiness with the others. But He does not find a favourable ground. The hearts of the apostles are tired and embittered by so much ill-will and they react against things and also against the Master by means of a stubborn silence, which is like the stillness of the air before a storm. Only His cousin James, the Zealot and John take an interest in what interests Jesus. All the others are… absent, if not hostile. Perhaps they are keeping quiet, not to grumble. But inside they must be speaking, and speaking too much.
It is a more lively exclamation of admiration before the living jewel of a kingfisher which flies down, taking a little silver fish to its mate, that makes them open their mouths.
Jesus says: «Can there be anything more gentle?»
Peter replies: «Perhaps not more gentle… but I can assure You that a boat is more comfortable. Here it is damp just the same, but we are not comfortable…»
«I would prefer the track for caravans to this… garden, if You wish to call it so, and I am in full agreement with Simon» says the Iscariot.
«It was you who did not want the caravan route» replies Jesus.
«Ehi! certainly… But I would not have given in to the Gherghesenes. I would have gone away from there, but I would have continued beyond the river to Gadara, Pella and down to the south» grumbles Bartholomew.
And his great friend Philip concludes: «The roads belong to everybody, after all, and we could have passed through them well.»
«My friends! I am so anguished and disgusted… Do not increase My grief with your pettiness! Let Me seek some comfort in things which do not know how to hate…»
The reproach, kind in its sadness, moves the apostles.
«You are right, Master. We are not worthy of You. Forgive our foolishness. You can see the beautiful, because You are holy You look with the eyes of Your heart. We are coarse flesh and can only perceive coarse flesh… But never mind. Believe me, even if we were in paradise, we would be sad without You. But with You… oh! it is always beautiful for our hearts. It is only our limbs that refuse» many of them whisper.
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«We will soon be going out of here and will find a more comfortable ground, even if not so cool» promises Jesus.
«Where are we going exactly?» asks Peter.
«To give Passover to those who suffer. I have been wanting to do it for a long time. But I could not. I would have done it going back to Galilee. Now that they compel us to go along roads that we have not chosen, I am going to bless Jonah’s poor friends.»
«We will be wasting a lot of time! Passover is near! There are always delays for various reasons.» Another chorus of complaints rises to the sky. I do not know how Jesus can be so patient…
Without reproaching anyone He says: «Please, do not hinder Me! Endeavour to understand My need to love and to be loved. I have but this solace on the earth: to love and do the will of God.»
«And are we going from here? Was it not better to go from Nazareth?»
«If I had suggested that, you would have rebelled. No one will suspect that I am here… and I am doing it for you… because you are afraid.»
«Afraid? Ah! No! We are ready to fight for You.»
«Pray the Lord not to put you to the test. I know that you are quarrelsome, resentful, anxious to offend those who offend Me and to humble your neighbour. I know all that. But I do not know you to be brave. As far as I am concerned, I would have also gone by Myself and along the main road and nothing would have happened because it is not yet the time. But I feel sorry for you. I have to obey My Mother, yes, but I do not want to upset Simon the Pharisee. I will not disgust them. But they will disgust Me.»
«And where do we go from here? I am not familiar with this area» says Thomas.
«We will reach Tabor, we will coast part of it and will go to Nain via Endor; from there to the plain of Esdraelon. Be not afraid!… Doras, the son of Doras, and Johanan are already in Jerusalem.»