The Words in Red

I, Bashar, the last living student of the world’s greatest teacher, do offer this account of his life. I write these words with my own hand. May future generations know of the wisdom and love of our compassionate Teacher.

Other accounts have already been written, with second and third hand information. Many exaggerations and embellishments accompany those alternative works. I wish to share the record of his deeds honestly, that all future generations shall know the truth of his words and the power of his love. May his message still stir and warm our hearts as in the days when he pitched his tent among us.

He grew up as the son of a poor construction worker. He was taught his father’s trade but chose a different path when he became a man. He left his home as a sturdy young man with calloused hands. He was without a wife or occupation. He traveled far.

When pressed by the students about those years, he simply said “I traveled east towards the rising sun, and now I have returned.” Often he spoke in mysteries, and at other times, plain and straight to the soul. His words always pierced the hearts of those who heard him. Some awakened to great joy and healing, and others to shame and hatred.

When I met his caravan, I was still a teen and undecided in my life’s course. The first time that I heard him speak, I went home, gathered my few possessions, and bid farewell to my family. My father comforted my mother’s tears, telling her “Cry not for the fool. He will return home when his belly becomes empty.” My father was wrong.

There were only four or five students with him when I joined the group. I was the youngest, even after he had gathered his core group of twelve. The others called me “Boy.” They joked of my youth. During our years with the Teacher, I grew to love them all as my family. Now in my old age, I long to hear one of them call my name again, “Boy.” But they are all gone, and only I remain.

We traveled from town to town, from village to city, to the wilderness and even the great sea. Though our time with the Teacher spanned only a few years, our experiences with him have lived in our hearts for a lifetime. If all of his good deeds were written in a book, the world would not be large enough to contain it.

At first only the students traveled with him, though he always drew a crowd whenever he began to speak. Within months of my joining, a few dozen began following him wherever he went.

Early on we began to share our resources with the crowd of eager listeners. It seemed to be the natural thing to do, to care for those with us, who also follow the Teacher. Meals times were festive and always filled with joy and companionship.

His fame grew in our area. Many towns and villages sent messengers asking the Teacher to come and speak to their citizens. Lodging and food was offered by the hosting civic leaders.

It wasn’t long before we had to appoint a treasurer. Brother Newton kept up with the coins, spices, food and garments that were bestowed upon us. Often when leaving a city, the Teacher instructed us to distribute food and needed items, even coins, among the poor. The poor loved him most.