The priest’s foot froze in the crook of a boy’s back. His face flushed a brilliant red, making the gold in his hair glitter. His eyes bore into those of the man in the indigo robe. “And just who are you?” he spat with disdain.

“Who do you say that I am?” Jesus retorted, goading him. He had no desire to make the priest’s task easy. And he had kept his rage in check for too long.

The onlookers flinched. Ruth gasped.

The priest glared. Sparks issued from his eyes.

Had he not encountered this ruffian before? But where?

“Do not insult me!” he roared. He dashed around the circle and rammed his toes into a maimed villager’s side. “Who is this man and what has he told you?” he demanded. “Tell me now!”

The villager listed to the side, trembling.

Seeing that the maimed man would not confess, one of the onlookers who had shunned Jesus’s invitation called out to the priest, “He tells them godless nonsense such as to remember the life around them from which they rise and of which they are a part. He urges them to see with their ears and listen with their eyes. And goads them to be grateful and to find the miracles within and around, as if he were responsible for God’s creation himself!” The man then spat upon the ground and fell silent.

No one dared move.

“Oh he does, does he?” the priest said. He trained his eyes again on Jesus. “Well then, I will tell you who you are,” he snarled, staying on the far side of the circle. “You are a charlatan! A blasphemer! A worshipper of false gods! You are a feebleminded man preying on the weakness of others and smiting the face of the one true Lord. And worship of your ‘miraculous’ world is nothing but worship of a golden calf, a farce created to distract people from the truth!”

Cheers of approval arose from those outside the circle.

“You do not know of what you speak—!” Jesus countered.

But the priest ignored him and continued his tirade. “And as for your poor souls,” he said, glowering at those seated on the ground. “Woe unto those who mingle with Satan’s minions. Be assured that you are cursed to everlasting fire!”

“But sir,” a young woman dared. “How can he be evil when he is able to heal our sick?” The villagers nodded their heads in agreement. A young mother hugged her boy close and looked up with grateful eyes toward Jesus. The rash that had infected her son’s arms for years had nearly cleared.