Eusebio remembers the autopsy he performed earlier today, speaking of bodies that stink of death. The mushy, puffy body of a floater is an abhorrence to the eyes and to the nose, even when these are trained.
“But there are other miracles that benefit the human body besides the medical miracles,” his wife continues. “Jesus makes the nets of fishermen bulge with catch. He multiplies fish and loaves of bread to feed thousands. At Cana he turns water into wine. In alleviating hunger and quenching thirst, Jesus again benefits the human body. So too when he stills a storm that is swamping the boat his disciples are travelling in and rescues them from drowning. And the same when he gets Peter to pay the temple tax with the coin from the fish’s mouth; in doing that, he saves Peter from the beating he would have endured had he been arrested.”
Maria has benefitted his body, Eusebio muses, as he has hers. To love and then to have a fun time of it — is there any greater joy? They were like birds in springtime. Their carnal relations settled over the years, but the satisfaction has remained — the comfort of a sturdy, warm nest. Renewed love for Maria flames within him. When they met, she never told him that her name was Legion, that teeming within her were all the prophets and apostles of the Bible, besides a good number of the Church Fathers. When she was giving birth to their children — with each one the ordeal began with something like a plate breaking inside her, she said — even then, as he sat in the waiting room listening to her panting and groaning and shrieking, she discoursed on religion. The doctor and the nurses came out with thoughtful expressions. He had to remind them to tell him about the new baby. Even as she suffered and they worked, she caused them to think. How did he end up with a wife who was both beautiful and profound? Did he deserve such luck? He smiles and winks at his wife.
“Eusebio, stop it. Time is short,” she whispers. “Now, why does Jesus benefit the human body? Of course he does his miracle work to impress those around him — and they are impressed. They’re amazed. But to show that he is the Messiah, why does Jesus cure infirmities and feed hungry stomachs? After all, he could also soar like a bird, as the devil asked him to do, or, as he himself mentioned, he could go about casting mountains into seas. These too would be miracles worthy of a Messiah. Why body miracles?”
Eusebio remains hushed. He’s tired. Worse, he’s hungry. He remembers the bag at his wife’s feet. Perhaps he should wash the glass in the small sink in his office and, when returning to his desk, try to glimpse inside the bag. She usually brings him something to eat when she visits.
His wife answers her question. “Jesus performs these miracles because they bring relief where we want it most. We all suffer in our bodies and die. It is our fate — as you well know, my dear, spending your days cutting up human carrion. In curing and feeding us, Jesus meets us at our weakest. He eases us of our heavy burden of mortality. And that impresses us more deeply than any other display of mighty power, be it flying in the air or throwing mountains into seas.
“Now to the second category of the miracles of Jesus, the category of the miracle of interpretation. This category contains only a single miracle. Do you know what that miracle is?”
“Tell me,” Eusebio says softly.
“It is when Jesus walks on the water. There is no other miracle like it. Jesus tells his disciples to get into the boat and travel on ahead. They set out, while Jesus goes onto the mountain to pray. The day ends. The disciples strain at their oars against a strong wind — but there is no storm; their bodies are not in any danger. After a long night of toil, as the new day is starting, they see Jesus coming towards their boat, walking on the sea. They are terrified. Jesus reassures them: ‘It is I; do not be afraid.’ Matthew, in his version of the story, has Peter ask the Lord if he can join him. ‘Come,’ says Jesus. Peter gets out of the boat and walks on the water towards Jesus, but then the wind frightens him and he begins to sink. Jesus reaches out with his hand and brings Peter back to the boat. The adverse wind ceases.
“Why would Jesus walk on water? Did he do it to save a drowning soul, to benefit a human body? No — Peter got into trouble in the water after Jesus began walking on it. Was there some other impetus? Jesus started his miraculous walk very early in the morning from remote shores, alone, and at sea he was seen by no one but his disciples, who were out of sight of land. In other words, there was no social necessity to the miracle. Walking on water did no one any particular good, raised no specific hopes. It was neither asked for, nor expected, nor even needed. Why such an anomalous miracle in documents as spare and winnowed as the Gospels? And this unique miracle can’t be hidden away. It appears in two of the synoptic Gospels — Matthew and Mark—and in John, one of the very few crossover miracles. What does it mean, Eusebio, what does it mean? In a moment of clarity, I saw.”
He perks up. It always goes like this. She talks and talks and talks, and then suddenly he is hooked, like a fish in a biblical story. What did she see?
“I saw that the miracle of Jesus walking on the water means little when taken at face value. However, when it is taken as saying one thing but implying another — in other words, as allegory—then the miracle opens up. Swimming is a modern invention — people at the time of Jesus could not swim. If they fell into deep water, they sank and they drowned — that is the literal truth. But if we think of water as the experience of life, it is also the religious truth. Men and women are weak, and in their weakness they sink. Jesus does not sink. A man drowning in water naturally looks up. What does he see? While he is being engulfed by choking darkness, he sees above him the clear light and pure air of salvation. He sees Jesus, who stands above those struggling in weakness, offering them redemption. This explains Peter’s hapless performance on the water: He is only human, and therefore he begins to sink. Read so, as an allegory about our weakness and Jesus’ purity and the salvation that he offers, the miracle takes on a whole new meaning.
“Now, I asked myself, why would this miracle demand an allegorical reading but not the others? Would the miracles that benefit the human body gain from a similar reading? I had never thought of that. Poor stupid woman that I am, I had always taken the body miracles of Jesus as factual truth. In my mind Jesus really did cure leprosy, blindness, and other ailments and infirmities, and he really did feed the thousands. But is the Lord to be reduced to an itinerant doctor and a peddler of buns? I don’t think so. The miracles that benefit the human body must also mean something greater.”
“What?” Eusebio asks pliantly.
“Well, what else could they be but symbols of the Everlasting Kingdom? Each miraculous cure of Jesus is a glimpse of the ultimate place that is ours, if we have faith. Have faith, and you will be cured of your mortality, you will be fed forever. Do you understand the import of what I am saying?” Eusebio ventures a nod. Maria’s voice is warm, buttery, comforting. If only he could eat it. He peeks at the clock. “The miracle of Jesus walking on the water is a guide to how we must read Scripture as a whole. The Gospels are lesser, their message weakened, if we read them as though they are reports by four journalists. But if we understand them as written in a language of metaphors and symbols, then they open up with moral depth and truth. That is the language used by Jesus himself, is it not? How did he teach the people?”