The villagers gathered about the fire, while those who were following Jesus sat in a larger circle around them. As the flames leapt higher, and food was passed, they despaired over the attack.

“It was premeditated,” one man said.

The messenger nodded, his eyes filling with tears. “The shepherds thought our brother had stolen his sheep. But it was not so! He found the animals wounded and dying from a wolf attack. And slaughtered them to end their suffering. But they did not believe his story and took our beautiful Setya as compensation.”

“Such a violation cannot go unanswered!” one of the older men said. “We must arm ourselves and seek them out!”

The others grumbled about the fire, their indignation rising, steaming toward violence.

“An eye for an eye!” another shouted. “That is the law!”

Jesus felt the men’s anger escalating and shuddered. It reminded him of the night his father and the villagers had stormed off to kill Zahra—and the rage that had swarmed among them. It reminded him, too, of his own potent fury.

Unable to restrain the emotions tangling inside his heart, he cried out, “Listen to what you are saying!” The other men fell silent and turned to stare at the young healer. Jesus blinked as though surprised by his outburst. But, feeling their eyes upon him, he gathered himself. And let his mind soften. “You speak of murder as though it were an act of power,” he said. “But I tell you this—whether it is the innocent or the guilty you kill, the act of destruction degrades the soul. And buries all hope.”

When he paused, no one spoke, only the fire crackled.

Jesus glanced over at Ruth. She returned his glance with a smile. Knowing that he was seeking his center. And his better self.

“Friends,” Jesus began again, gazing into his own hands. “Do not confuse destruction with power. They are opposites. Think of this: How long does it take to crush a butterfly with a stick?” He looked about. When no one spoke he continued. “I can tell you from experience: It takes no time at all. And yet what is required to create a butterfly? Nothing short of a magical transformation—a divine shifting of blood and sinew—a miraculous act that not one of us could ever dream of achieving! When you remember it this way, you can see that the act of swatting down a butterfly is a minor and inferior act—and one of great cowardice!—in comparison to honoring and sustaining it. So it is with all life.”

Jesus reached up and laid a hand on his chest, feeling the medallion beneath his tunic.

Ruth smiled, sensing that he was trying to remember. And knowing that the words he spoke were as much to counsel himself as they were to guide the villagers.