Having spent my early years in Greece, I was familiar with the language. In Bethsaida, no one minded my mixed blood. My mother was a righteous woman and well-loved. In my youth, we were zealous for the truth. I knew John, the son of Zebedee, and followed the Baptist with many of my friends. His words were like a fresh breeze; we were so excited.

The merchant, Lazarus, used my knowledge of the Greek language to trade with the hat makers. He was a righteous man, and treated me fairly. So, I helped support my family through my business dealings with the man from Magdala. Lazarus wished to travel and see the Baptist, but illness held him down. He sent me in his stead, and made me vow to return with an accurate accounting. I was to relay what I learned from the new Rabbi, word for word.

I traveled with John. It was Shevat. The days were warm, the nights cool and dry. We slept along the road and spoke with great anticipation of hearing the Baptist speak. We were beside ourselves when we saw the camp ahead of us. Bethany beyond Jordan was a sprawling grassy field among knolls and springs. It made me tingle to think that I stood in the very place where the great prophet Elijah went up to the heavens. John, just as excited as I was, took my elbow and pulled me into the camp.

The tents were empty, and flattened grass proved where people had slept in the open fields. Noises from a spring ahead drew us into a great crowd of the Baptist's followers. We pressed excitedly through the multitude, and that was no easy endeavor, but John and I obtained a spot with a clear view into the spring below. That was the first time I saw the man, and I could scarce take my eyes from him. He was a large burly man notable for his hair. Some men let their hair grow out, but the Baptist had enough hair for two heads. Black and tightly curled, it moved in the wind like a living beast. His beard grew to cover his unclad chest, and there was even hair on his back.

John and I stood wide-eyed through the morning immersions, through arguments between the Baptist and the Pharisees, and when the crowd had thinned at midday, we stepped down into the spring and hailed the baptizer.

“Rabbi,” I called to him. “Please baptize us.”

When he turned to look at me I was afraid. His eyes burned into me like no others had ever done. He waded over to us and gripped my shoulders with great strength. His voice had lost none of its morning thunder.

“Baptism is no game for children!” he yelled. “Fear for your spirit. Repent from your sins. Turn with all your heart to heaven, and bow your heads under the mighty hand of God.”

I trembled. “Master,” I cried. “Show me the way.”

His answer was loud and frightful. “All men have sinned and must be made clean. I, indeed, baptize with water, but one will come who will baptize with fire. What says your heart; will you be clean?”

John, beside me, answered with great urgency. “Please, Rabbi, make us clean.”

Immediately, the Baptist took us each in one hand. He gripped our clothing tightly and pushed us under the water. I had not time to draw a breath before my head went under, and water filled my ears. He held us under and spoke, but his words were distant to me. I could not hear them. My lungs burned with the need to breathe. I would have panicked, but the Baptist pulled us up. I gasped for air, I blinked water from my eyes. I heard John coughing, and as my eyes focused on the Baptist, he drove us under the water with a mighty hand. I truly began to fear. Then, I was upright, spitting water from my mouth.

The Baptist yelled into my face. “Turn from the hypocrisy of man and fear the Lord!”

My answer shook me. “I will, Rabbi. I do.”

Just then, a Pharisee called down to the Baptist. “How do you, a man, assert power over the will of God? We govern by the Lord's will. Who are you? Are you that prophet?”

The Baptist lifted us away from him and set us down. He took a step toward the Pharisee. The multitude took a breath and awaited the Baptist's reply. John reached out and took my arm. My heart beat with both excitement and alarm as I wiped water from my face.

The Baptist's voice was like a trumpet. “I am not that one,” he answered. “I will bear witness to the one who comes in the power of the Almighty.”

The Baptist's words challenged the Pharisee, whose face reddened in anger, but he could not raise his voice above those of the men who stood near him. No man challenged a Pharisee, but the Baptist challenged that one with his head high and his shoulders squared, and the mood of the crowd threatened to overwhelm the Pharisee. Just then, a man pushed through the crowd, and the Pharisee stumbled to the side. A Galilean stood above us and lowered his coat past his belt. Everyone could see the seamless robe below the coat.

John spoke into my ear. “Another Rabbi.”

The man was ruddy, and his long hair was the color of chestnut. We stood quietly and watched the Galilean walk down into the water. When he stood before the Baptist, he placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked into the Baptist's eyes. Then he kissed the Baptist on the cheek and called his name.

“John,” said the Galilean. “Baptize me.”