Thousands of books have been written about Jesus of Nazareth. None, however, quite like this one. Straightway, the author has chosen to examine the Son of Man through the eyes of someone who, it could be said, was “rejected” by the Holy Spirit – assuming, of course, that you believe the mind of God can be determined by the manner in which a few stones are tossed. It is called ‘divination’ today. It was divination then, as well.

The eleven apostles cast lots to determine, allegedly, who the Holy Spirit would have replace Judas Iscariot. The preemptive requisite credential for anyone who could do this must be someone who had been with Jesus ‘the whole time’ since his baptism to that present day. Two such men met that requirement: Joseph bar Sabbas, called Justus, and Matthias.

The stones were cast. The lot fell to Matthias. Joseph called Justus is never heard from again, not in the sacred writings, nor in the volumes of literature and traditions which followed.

One is left to surmise how Justus felt about this. It may be safely assumed that since he had been with Jesus and ‘went in and out’ among the rest of the disciples throughout his ministry, that he must have been close to Jesus; held private conversations with him and laughed with him. Slept around the same campfires, lodged in the same facilities, visited the same friend’s homes, ate at the same tables. Such an assumption is plausible.

Now his friend and Lord, Jesus, was gone. And for all of the good face to put on it, Justus must have felt rejected by his friends, and if the stones were to be believed, rejected by the Holy Spirit as well. Where did the man go? What did he do with his feelings? No doubt he rejoiced with Matthias, or at least, tried to. But what was in his heart? Hurt? Pain?

No matter. Paul Morris has found him lurking beneath the shadows -- and in his imagination, peered into the mind of Justus, and for us, his readers, has played back the ancient video of time spent with Jesus and those he chose as apostles, scene by galvanizing scene. What we see through the eyes of Justus is not quite the same as we have seen in other attempts to capture the story of Jesus. Perhaps, Morris should put it in his own words. He writes to a friend . . .

For what it is worth, you should know that I do not treat Jesus as the effete cleric handed down to us by formal church history. He is not halo’ed and is not characterized as the “Man of Sorrows,” or one of the “characters” in the Bible. I have discovered that Jesus was a seminal working man, a hard hat whose hands were cauterized with carpenter’s callouses. He probably laughed a lot and preferred to hang out with water-front toughs, rather than the lily-white (and livered) preachers of his day. It wouldn’t surprise me if he owned a dog. I affirm masculinity in men; indeed, I perceive Jesus as the model of masculinity. If you want to know more, read my book.

You are invited to do the same.