Out of nowhere, the old woman’s son raced forward. “Do not bother with her,” he scoffed. “She is but a whore. A blight on our village.”

Having witnessed the young man’s disdain the night before, Jesus ignored him. “Is there something you need, sister?” he asked.

The mother cast her eyes downward. “Please,” she said. “I am deeply humbled before you. As he says, I am not worthy of your attention. Yet I do not ask for me—but for my son.”

The young man grimaced and kicked dust at the child. “The calf is no better than the cow!” he growled.

Hearing the man’s harsh words, Ruth spun to look at Jesus. She saw the burning in his eyes and felt his intention. She wanted to keep him from speaking out, but knew that her power to contain him was dwindling.

While the other villagers looked on, Jesus approached the woman. His steps laced with purpose. He knelt alongside the boy. “You are more than worthy,” he told the woman. Lowering his voice so that only she could hear, he added, “We are equals in the eyes of our Mother. The Mother of All. Remember this.”

The woman noticeably rose under the influence of his words. Her face turned upward like a plant seeking sun. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Jesus marveled at the effect his words had on the woman and felt a charge run along his skin.

Why did Ruth insist on silencing him when speaking of the Mother could affect people in such a powerful way?

Inspired, he turned to the woman’s child. “What is it that ails him?” he asked.

“His eye. Under the patch.”

Jesus lifted the brown flap and gasped. The boy’s empty and infected socket gaped at him. He suppressed his urge to recoil. “Who did this?” he asked, his anger sharpening.

The woman grew uncomfortable. She crumpled to the ground whispering apologies. Behind them, the old woman’s son cleared his throat. Jesus whirled to face him, but the young man averted his gaze.

It had been he who had gouged out the boy’s eye! To punish the mother!

Jesus visibly tensed. His fists clenching. Anger heating the spaces behind his eyes.

How could anyone damage the innocent beauty of a child? How could anyone strike against the holiness of another?

Graphic scenes of the devastation inside the caves flashed before him. He could make sense of none of it. He felt a strong urge to knock the young man down, to make him feel in equal amounts the pain he had inflicted. He moved to rise, to take revenge, but a hand pressed firmly on his shoulder. It was Ruth.

“We must do what we can to get the infection under control,” she urged.

Jesus seethed beside her.

Ruth held him fast. “Turn the other cheek and put your feelings to better use,” she counseled, echoing an important tenet of The Way.