The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ

Christ and the Prostitute

On the few occasions when Christ came close to Jesus, he did his best to avoid contact with him, but from time to time someone would ask him who he was, what he was doing, whether he was one of Jesus’s followers, and so on. He managed to deal with questions of this kind quite easily by adopting a manner of mild courtesy and friendliness, and by making himself inconspicuous. In truth, he attracted little attention and kept to himself, but like any other man he sometimes longed for company.

Once, in a town Jesus had not visited before and where his followers were little known, Christ got into conversation with a woman. She was one of the prostitutes Jesus made welcome, but she had not gone in to dinner with the rest of them. When she saw Christ on his own, she said, ‘Would you like to come to my house?’

Knowing what sort of woman she was, and realising that no one would see them, he agreed. He followed her to her house, and went in after her, and waited while she looked in the inner room to see that her children were asleep.

When she lit the lamp and looked at him she was startled, and said, ‘Master, forgive me! The street was dark, and I couldn’t see your face.’

‘I’m not Jesus,’ said Christ. ‘I’m his brother.’

‘You look so like him. Have you come to me for business?’

He could say nothing, but she understood, and invited him to lie on the bed with her. The business was concluded rapidly, and afterwards Christ felt moved to explain why he had accepted her invitation.

‘My brother maintains that sinners will be forgiven more readily than those who are righteous,’ he said. ‘I have not sinned very much; perhaps I have not sinned enough to earn the forgiveness of God.’

‘You came to me not because I tempted you, then, but out of piety? I wouldn’t earn much if that was the case with every man.’

‘Of course I was tempted. Otherwise I would not have been able to lie with you.’

‘Will you tell your brother about this?’

‘I don’t talk much to my brother. He has never listened to me.’

‘You sound bitter.’

‘I don’t feel bitter. I love my brother. He has a great task, and I wish I could serve him better than I do. If I sound downcast, it’s perhaps because I’m conscious of the depth of my failure to be like him.’

‘Do you want to be like him?’

‘More than anything. He does things out of passion, and I do them out of calculation. I can see further than he can; I can see the consequences of things he doesn’t think twice about. But he acts with the whole of himself at every moment, and I’m always holding something back out of caution, or prudence, or because I want to watch and record rather than participate.’

‘If you let go of your caution, you might be carried away by passion as he is.’

‘No,’ said Christ. ‘There are some who live by every rule and cling tightly to their rectitude because they fear being swept away by a tempest of passion, and there are others who cling to the rules because they fear that there is no passion there at all, and that if they let go they would simply remain where they are, foolish and unmoved; and they could bear that least of all. Living a life of iron control lets them pretend to themselves that only by the mightiest effort of will can they hold great passions at bay. I am one of those. I know it, and I can do nothing about it.’

‘It’s something to know it, at least.’

‘If my brother wanted to talk about it, he would make it into a story that was unforgettable. All I can do is describe it.’

‘And describing it is something, at least.’

‘Yes, it is something, but not much.’

‘Do you envy your brother, then?’

‘I admire him, I love him, I long for his approval. But he cares little for his family; he’s often said so. If I vanished he wouldn’t notice, if I died he wouldn’t care. I think of him all the time, and he thinks of me not at all. I love him, and my love torments me. There are times when I feel like a ghost beside him; as if he alone is real, and I’m just a daydream. But envy him? Do I begrudge him the love and the admiration that so many give him so freely? No. I truly believe that he deserves it all, and more. I want to serve him… No, I believe that I am serving him, in ways he will never know about.’

‘Was it like that when you were young?’

‘He would get into trouble, and I would get him out of it, or plead for him, or distract the grown-ups’ attention by a clever trick or a winning remark. He was never grateful; he took it for granted that I would rescue him. And I didn’t mind. I was happy to serve him. I am happy to serve him.’

‘If you were more like him, you could not serve him so well.’

‘I could serve others better.’

Then the woman said, ‘Sir, am I a sinner?’

‘Yes. But my brother would say your sins are forgiven.’

‘Do you say that?’

‘I believe it to be true.’

‘Then, sir, would you do something for me?’

And the woman opened her robe and showed him her breast. It was ravaged with an ulcerating cancer.

‘If you believe my sins are forgiven,’ she said, ‘please heal me.’

Christ turned his head away, and then looked back at her and said, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’

‘Must I believe that too?’

‘Yes. I must believe it, and you must believe it.’

‘Tell me again.’

‘Your sins are forgiven. Truly.’

‘How will I know?’

‘You must have faith.’

‘If I have faith, will I be healed?’

‘Yes.’

‘I will have faith, if you do, sir.’

‘I do.’

‘Tell me once more.’

‘I have said it… Very well: your sins are forgiven.’

‘And yet I’m not healed,’ she said.

She closed her robe.

Christ said, ‘And I am not my brother. Didn’t I tell you that? Why did you ask me to heal you, if you knew I was not Jesus? Did I ever claim to be able to heal you? I said to you “Your sins are forgiven.” If you don’t have sufficient faith after you’ve heard that, the fault is yours.’

The woman turned away and faced the wall, and drew her robe over her head.

Christ left her house. He was ashamed, and he went out of the town and climbed to a quiet place among the rocks, and prayed that his own sins might be forgiven. He wept a little. He was afraid the angel might come to him, and he hid all night.