Jesus, Thursday December 21, AD 29
Simon the Zealot turned up today, which made me so glad I cried. I had never expected to see him again, and judging by his bandages and the trouble he had walking, I was lucky he was alive to be seen at all. He came by camel in the morning with Cyrus, who disappointed me by turning down the offer of lunch, saying he was too busy.
Simon told me harrowing tales of violent deeds by the daggermen and of the dreadful fate that had been promised to the rest of his band when he made his miraculous escape, and he told me how kind Mary and Cyrus had been in taking him in and caring for him, and he told me how the Son of Man had appeared to him several times in dreams, telling him to rejoin my mission. I asked him what the Son of Man looked like, and his answer was the same as Matthew’s. Why do they think he looks like me?
I’d love Simon to join us again – his strength of spirit is so inspiring to the others – but I think we’ll keep him out of the front line till his injuries have healed some more and become less obvious.
I asked for news of Mary, but all he knew was that she was planning a trip to Nazareth when he set off yesterday, presumably to see Tom. Good old Tom. Doubting Tom.