The twelve disciples were down-to-earth men and women just like you and me. Actually, they were all men, but that shouldn't dilute the point that they were human beings with human problems, the everyday pettinesses and foibles that we all experience, yes, you and me and and baby minus me makes two. Sorry. Tangent.
Some of the disciples' sins were relatively minor, if we take the long view. Simon Peter was a bit of a showoff, Andrew sometimes cursed at other cab drivers, John Zebedee had a thing for blond waitresses, Philip became addicted to Percocet because of a particularly rowdy class, Thaddeus gambled on chariot races, Bartholomew was probably stealing from his company, James Alphaeus secretly resented his wife's successful career, Thomas smoked.
The real "bad boys" of the disciples, though, were James Zebedee and Simon the Cananean. James Zebedee smuggled heroin for the Haifa mob, hiding packets of dope in a false belly while disguised as a pregnant woman. He met a bullet on his last day--not from cops, who were mostly too bribed to care, but from a football fan from Galilee who had heard one too many "Galilee sucks!" come from Zebedee's drunken lips.
Simon the Cananean walked a tightrope--literally. Small-time gangster by day, Ringling Brothers funambulist by night, Simon C. took a bullet in the kidney when running away from a rumble in South Jerusalem. The streets don't have a safety net.
[ninety-third in a series]
2 comments:
Nonsense
Where in the bible does this say that.
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