The Last Temptation of Christ

Chapter Twenty-Three

THE NIGHT was in its infancy when they arrived at Capernaum. The squall had passed over their heads. The north wind had blown and pushed it toward the south.

“We’ll all sleep at our house,” said Zebedee’s two sons. “It’s big, and there’s room for everyone. That’s where we’ll set up camp.”

“And old Zebedee?” said Peter, laughing. “He wouldn’t give a drop of water to an angel.”

John reddened. “Trust in the master,” he said. “His breath will have a good effect on him, you’ll see.”

But Jesus did not hear. He was marching in front, his eyes filled with the blind, the lame and the leprous… Ah, if I could only blow on every soul, he thought, and cry to it, Awake! Then, if it did awake, the body would become soul and be cured.

As they entered the large market town, Thomas inserted the horn between his lips in order to blow. But Jesus put out his hand. “Don’t,” he said. “I’m tired…” And indeed, his face was pale and the flesh around his eyes had turned blue. Magdalene knocked at the first door to ask for a cup of water. Jesus drank and recovered his strength.

“I owe you a cup of cool water, Magdalene,” he said to her with a smile.

He remembered what he had said to the other woman, the Samaritan, at Jacob’s well.

“I shall repay you with a cup of immortal water,” he added.

“You gave it to me a long time ago, Rabbi,” Magdalene answered with a blush.

They passed by Nathanael’s cottage. The door was open and the master of the house stood in the yard under his fig tree. Pruning hook in hand, he was removing the tree’s dead branches. Philip quickly cut himself off from the group of travelers and entered.

“Nathanael,” he said, “I have something to tell you. Stop your pruning.” He went into the house. Nathanael followed and lighted the lamp. “Forget your lamps, your fig trees and your house,” Philip said to him, “and come.”

“Where?”

“Where? But haven’t you heard the news? The end of the world is here! Today or tomorrow the heavens will open and the world will be reduced to ashes. Move quickly and enter the ark so that you can be saved.”

“What ark?”

“The bosom of the son of Mary, the son of David-our rabbi from Nazareth. He’s just returned from the desert, where he met God. The two of them talked and decided on the destruction and salvation of the world. God placed his hand on our rabbi’s hair. ‘Go and choose who is to be saved,’ he said. ‘You are the new Noah. Look, here is the key to the ark so that you can open and close it,’ and he gave him a key of gold. He has it hanging around his neck, but the human eye cannot see it.”

“Speak clearly, Philip. I’m all confused. When did all these wonders take place?”

“Just now, I tell you, in the Jordan desert. They killed the Baptist, and his soul went into our rabbi’s body. To see him, you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s changed-grown wild, and sparks fly from his hands. Why, just now at Cana he touched the paralyzed daughter of the centurion of Nazareth, and all at once she jumped up and started to dance. Yes, I swear it by our friendship! We mustn’t lose any time. Come!”

Nathanael sighed. “Look here, Philip, I was so well set up, I had so many orders. Look, look at all these sandals and moccasins waiting to be finished. My business was sailing full speed ahead, and now…” He threw a lingering glance around him, looked at his beloved tools, the stool on which he sat and patched, the cobbler’s knife, the awls, the waxed string, the wooden tacks… He sighed again. “How can I leave them?” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find tools of gold up above. You’ll mend the golden sandals of the angels; you’ll have eternal, innumerable orders. You’ll sew, you’ll rip, you won’t lack work. Only move quickly; come and say to the master, ‘I’m with you!’-nothing else. ‘I’m with you and I’ll follow you wherever you go-to the death!’ That’s what we’ve all sworn.”

“To the death!” said the cobbler, shuddering. His body was huge, but he had the heart of a miller.

“It’s just a way of speaking, poor thing,” the shepherd said to reassure him. “That’s what we’ve all sworn, but don’t be afraid-we’re headed for majesty, not for death. This man, my friend, is not a man. No, he’s the Son of man!”

“It’s not the same, eh?”

“The same? Aren’t you ashamed to say that? Didn’t you ever hear anyone read the prophet Daniel? ‘Son of man’ means Messiah-in other words, King! He’s going to sit on the throne of the Universe very soon, and we-as many as were clever enough to join him-are going to divide up the honors and the wealth. You won’t walk barefooted any more. You’ll wear golden sandals, and the angels will stoop to tie your laces. Nathanael, I tell you it’s a good deal. Don’t let it slip out of your hands. What more need I say than to inform you that Thomas joined us. He smelled something good, the rascal, gave the very shirt off his back to the poor, and ran. So, you run too. He’s at Zebedee’s house now. Come on, let’s go.!”

But Nathanael held back, unable to decide. “Look here, Philip, you’ll have to answer for the consequences,” he said at last. “And I warn you: if I find the going rough, I leave for good. I’m ready for anything, short of getting myself crucified.”

“All right, all right,” said Philip, “we’ll both make ourselves scarce in that case. Do you think I’ve gone completely mad?… Agreed? Let’s go!”

“Well, then-in God’s name!” He locked the door, put the key under his shirt, and the two of them departed arm in arm for Zebedee’s house.

Jesus and the disciples sat warming themselves in front of the lighted fire while old Salome went in and out, overjoyed. All her illnesses had disappeared. She went in and out, setting the table, and her pride in her sons and in serving the holy man who would bring the kingdom of heaven was insatiable. John leaned over and whispered into his mother’s ear. By glancing at the disciples he made her notice how they shivered, still dressed as they were in summer linens. The mother smiled, went inside, opened her trunks and took out woolen clothes. Then, quickly-before her husband’s return-she divided them up among the companions. The thickest robe, one of brilliantly white wool, she threw tenderly over Jesus’ shoulders.

He turned and smiled at her. “Bless you, Mother Salome,” he said. “It is right and just that you should care for the body. The body is the camel on which the soul mounts in order to traverse the desert. Care for it, therefore, so that it will be able to endure.”

Old Zebedee entered and looked at the unexpected visitors. He greeted them halfheartedly, then sat down in a corner. These robbers (that is what he called them) did not please him at all. Who invited them to come and take over his home? And his lavish wife had already laid them out a magnificent feast! Curse the day this new fanatic sprouted up. It wasn’t bad enough that he had stolen both his sons! No, besides that there were the arguments all day long with his idiotic wife, who took the two boys’ part. They had acted well, she said. This man was a true prophet: he would become king, throw out the Romans and sit on Israel ’s throne. Then John would be enthroned to his right, Jacob to his left-great lords, not fishermen in rowboats, but great important lords! Why, do you think they should rot away their entire lives here on the water? Day and night Zebedee was nagged with this-and more-by the old idiot, who would bang her foot on the floor and shout. Sometimes he cursed and smashed whatever happened to be in front of him; sometimes he gave up in despair and went off to roam the edge of the lake like a madman. In the end he had taken to drink. And now-what next!-all these lawbreakers had moved into his house: nine immense mouths; and they had with them that whore a thousand times kissed, that Magdalene. They sat themselves down in a circle around the table and did not even turn to look at him-him, the master of the house-nor even ask his permission. So that’s what we’ve come to! Was it for these parasites that he and his ancestors had slaved for so many years? He flew into a rage and, jumping up, shouted, “Just a minute, my good men-whose house is this, yours or mine? Two and two make four. Will you tell me, please!”

“It’s God’s,” answered Peter, who had downed quite a few drinks and was in a merry mood. “God’s, Zebedee. Haven’t you heard the news? Nothing any more is yours or mine; everything is God’s.”

“The law of Moses-” Zebedee began, but Peter interrupted him before he could work up steam.

“What do I hear-the law of Moses? That’s done with, Zebedee, finished, gone for a nice long walk and never coming back. Now we have the Law of the Son of man. Understand? We’re all brothers! Our hearts have broadened, and with our hearts the law has also broadened. It now embraces the whole of mankind. The entire world is the Promised Land. The frontiers are gone! I, the very man you see before you, Zebedee, shall go proclaim the word of God to the nations. I’ll get clear to Rome -yes, don’t laugh-and I’ll grab the emperor by his Adam’s apple, knock him down and sit myself on the throne. And why not! As the master said, we’re no longer your kind of fishermen. We don’t catch fish; we’re fishers of men. And a word to the wise: flatter us, bring us plenty of wine and food, because one day-and quickly too-we’ll be great lords. You give us one dry piece of bread, and we’ll repay you with a whole ovenful in a few days. And what loaves! Immortal! You’ll eat and eat, and they’ll never be consumed.”

“Poor fellow, I already see you crucified upside down,” growled Zebedee, who had slunk away again to his corner. Listening to Peter’s words, he had gradually begun to feel afraid. I’d better keep my mouth shut, he thought. You never know what will happen. The world is a sphere, and turns. It’s just possible that one day these madmen… Let’s play safe, then, whatever happens!

The disciples laughed in their beards. They knew perfectly well that Peter was in a merry mood and joking; but inside themselves-though they still were not drunk enough to speak out-they secretly spun the same thoughts. Impressiveness, rank, clothes of silk, golden rings, abundant food-and to feel the world under the Jewish heel: that was the kingdom of heaven.

Old Zebedee took another drink and mustered up courage. “And you, teacher,” he said, “aren’t you going to open your mouth? You started all this, and now you sit back as cool as a cucumber while we others sweat it out… Look here, can you tell me in the name of your God why I should see my goods scattered and not scream about it?

“Zebedee,” Jesus answered, “there was once a very rich man who reaped, vintaged, gathered in the olives, stuffed his jugs, ate, filled himself and then lay down on his back in his yard. ‘My soul,’ he said, ‘you have many belongings. Eat, drink and be merry!’ But as he said this a voice was heard from the sky: ‘Fool, fool-this night you shall surrender your soul to hell. What will you do with all the goods you have amassed?’ Zebedee, you have ears, you hear what I say to you; you have a mind, you understand what I mean. May this voice of heaven be above you, Zebedee, night and day!”

The old proprietor lowered his head and did not speak again.

Just then the door opened and Philip appeared on the threshold. Behind him was an immense gawky bean stalk, Nathanael. His heart no longer chimed two bells at once: he had made his decision. He approached Jesus, stooped and kissed his feet.

“My master,” he said, “I am with you to the death.”

Jesus placed his hand on the curly buffalo-like head. “Welcome, Nathanael. You make sandals for everyone else and go barefoot yourself. That pleases me very much. Come with me!” He seated him at his right and handed him a slice of bread and a cup of wine. “To become mine,” he said, “eat this mouthful of bread and drink this cup of wine.”

Nathanael ate the bread, drank the wine and all at once felt strength flow into his bones and soul. The wine rose like the sun and vermeiled his mind. Wine, bread and soul became one.

He was sitting on hot coals. He wanted to speak but was too bashful.

“Speak, Nathanael,” the master said to him. “Open your heart and relieve yourself.”

“Rabbi,” he replied, “I want you to know that I’ve always been poor. I’ve lived and eaten from day to day and have never had time to study the Law. I’m blind, Rabbi. Forgive me… That’s what I want you to know. I’ve had my say and I feel better.”

Jesus caressingly touched the newly enlightened man’s broad shoulders. “Don’t sigh, Nathanael,” he said, laughing. “Two paths lead to God’s bosom. One is the path of the mind, the other the path of the heart. Listen to the story I shall tell you:

“A poor man, a rich man and a rake died on the same day and appeared before God’s tribunal at the same hour. None of them had ever studied the Law. God frowned and asked the poor man, Why didn’t you study the Law while you were alive?’

“ ‘Lord,’ he answered, ‘I was poor and hungry. I slaved day and night to feed my wife and children. I didn’t have time.’

“ ‘Were you poorer than my faithful servant Hillel?’ God asked angrily. ‘He had no money to pay to enter the synagogue and hear the Law being explained, so he climbed onto the roof, stretched himself out and listened through the skylight. But it snowed and he was so absorbed in what he heard that he did not realize it. In the morning when the rabbi entered the synagogue he saw that it was dark. Raising his eyes, he discovered a man’s body over the skylight. He mounted to the roof, dug away the snow and exhumed Hillel. He took him in his arms, carried him down, lighted a fire and brought him back to life. Then he gave him permission to enter and listen after that without paying, and Hillel became the famous rabbi whom the whole world has heard of… What do you have to say to that?’

“ ‘Nothing, Lord,’ murmured the poor man, and he began to weep.

“God turned to the rich man. ‘And you, why didn’t you study the Law while you were alive?’

“ ‘I was too rich. I had many orchards, many slaves, many cares. How could I manage?’

“ ‘Were you richer,’ God snapped, ‘than Harsom’s son Eleazar, who inherited a thousand villages and a thousand ships? But he abandoned them all when he learned the whereabouts of a sage who was explaining the Law. What do you have to say for yourself?’

“ ‘Nothing, Lord,’ the rich man murmured in his turn, and he too began to weep.

“God then turned to the rake. ‘And you, my beauty, why didn’t you study the Law?’

“ ‘I was exceedingly handsome and many women threw themselves at me. With all the amusement I had, where could I find time to look at the Law?’

“ ‘Were you handsomer than Joseph, who was loved by the wife of Putiphar? He was so beautiful that he said to the sun, “Shine, sun, so that I may shine.” When he unfolded the Law the letters opened up like doors and the meaning came out dressed in light and flames. What do you have to say?’

“ ‘Nothing, Lord,’ murmured the rake, and he too began to weep.

“God clapped his hands and called Hillel, Eleazar and Joseph out from Paradise. When they had come, he said, ‘Judge these men who because of poverty, wealth and beauty did not study the Law. Speak, Hillel. Judge the poor one!’

“ ‘Lord,’ answered Hillel, ‘how can I condemn him? I know what poverty means, I know what hunger means. He should be pardoned!’

“ ‘And you, Eleazar?’ said God. ‘There is the rich one. I hand him over to you!’

“ ‘Lord,’ replied Eleazar, ‘how can I condemn him? I know what it is to be rich-death! He should be pardoned!’

“ ‘And you, Joseph? It’s your turn. There is the handsome one!’

“ ‘Lord, how can I condemn him? I know what a struggle it is, what a terrible martyrdom, to conquer the body’s loveliness. He should be pardoned!’ ”

Jesus paused, smiled, and looked at Nathanael. But the cobbler felt uneasy.

“Well, what did God do next?” he asked.

“Just what you would have done,” Jesus answered with a laugh.

The simple cobbler laughed too. “That means I’m saved!” He seized both of the master’s hands and squeezed them hard. “Rabbi,” he shouted, “I understand. You said there were two paths leading to God’s bosom, the path of the mind and the path of the heart. I took the path of the heart and found you!”

Rising, Jesus went to the door. A strong wind had come up and the lake was billowing. The stars in the heavens were innumerable fine grains of sand. He recalled the desert, shuddered, and closed the door. “Night is a great gift from God,” he said. “It is the mother of man and comes quietly and tenderly to cover him. It rests its cool hand on his forehead and effaces the day’s cares from his body and soul. Brothers, it is time to surrender ourselves to night’s embrace.”

Old Salome heard him and rose. Magdalene also got up from the corner by the fire where, bowed over, she had been happily listening to the Beloved’s voice. The two women laid out the mats and brought covers. Jacob went to the yard, carried in an armful of olive logs and heaped them on the fire. Jesus, standing erect in the middle of the house with his face turned toward Jerusalem, lifted his hands and in a deep voice pronounced the evening prayer: “Open your doors to us, O Lord. The day goes down; the sun falls, the sun disappears. Eternal, we come to your doors. We implore you: Pardon us. We implore you: Have mercy upon us. Save us!”

“And send us good dreams, Lord,” Peter added. “In my sleep, Lord, let me see my aged green boat all new and with a red sail!” He had drunk much and was in a jolly mood.

Jesus lay down in the center, surrounded by the disciples. They occupied the entire length and breadth of the house. Zebedee and his wife, finding no room, went to an outbuilding; and with them went Magdalene. The old man grumbled. He was deprived of his comforts. Turning in a rage to his wife, he said in a loud voice, so that Magdalene would hear, “What next! Thrown out of my own house by a pack of foreigners. Look what we’re reduced to!”

But the old lady turned to the wall and did not answer him.

This night Matthew again remained awake. He squatted under the lamp, removed the partly filled notebook from under his shirt and began to compose-how Jesus entered Capernaum, how Magdalene joined them, and the parable told by the master: There was once a very rich man… When he finished writing he blew out the lamp and then he too went to bed, but a little to one side, because the disciples still had not become accustomed to his breath.

No sooner had Peter closed his eyes than he fell asleep. Straightway an angel came down from heaven, quietly opened his temples and entered him in the form of a dream. A great crowd seemed to be assembled on the shore of the lake. The teacher stood there too, admiring a brand-new boat, green with a red sail, which was drifting in the water. On the rear part of her prow gleamed a great painted fish, identical with the fish that was tattooed on Peter’s chest. “Who does that beautiful boat belong to?” Jesus asked. “It’s mine,” Peter proudly replied. “Go, Peter, take the rest of the companions and sail out to the middle so that I can admire your courage!”

“With pleasure, Rabbi,” said Peter. He detached the cable. The rest of the companions jumped in. A favorable wind blew over the stern, the sail swelled out and they reached the open sea singing.

But suddenly a whirlwind arose. The boat twirled around, her creaking hull ready to crack. She started to ship water and sink. The disciples, fallen face-down on the deck, raised a great lament. Peter seized hold of the mast and shouted, “Rabbi, Rabbi, help!” and lo! there in the thick darkness he perceived the white-clad rabbi walking toward them over the waters. The disciples lifted their heads and saw him. “A ghost! A ghost!” they cried out, trembling.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jesus said to them, “it’s me!”

Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is really you, order me also to walk on the waves and to come and meet you.”

“Come!” Jesus ordered him.

Peter jumped out of the boat, stepped on the waves, and began to walk. But when he saw the enraged sea he became paralyzed with fear. He started to sink. “Lord, save me,” he screamed, “I’m drowning!”

Jesus put out his hand and pulled him up. “Man of little faith,” he said, “why were you afraid? Have you no confidence in me? Look!” He raised his hand over the waves and said, “Be still!” and all at once the wind subsided, the waters became calm.

Peter burst into tears. His soul had been put to the test this time also, and once more it had emerged with disgrace.

Uttering a loud shout, he awoke. His beard was sprinkled with tears. He sat up on the mat, leaned his back against the wall and sighed.

Matthew, who was still awake, heard him. “Why did you sigh, Peter?” he asked.

For a second Peter resolved to play deaf and not answer him. To be sure, he did not relish conversations with publicans. But the dream was choking him and he felt he had to pull it out from within him in order to find relief. He therefore crawled near to Matthew and began to relate it to him, and the more he related, the more he embroidered. Matthew listened insatiably, recording it all in his mind. Tomorrow at daybreak, God willing, he would copy it into his book.

Peter finished, but within his breast his heart still pitched, just like the boat in the dream. Suddenly he shook with fright. “Could the master really have come in the night and taken me with him to the open sea in order to test me? Never in my life have I seen a sea more alive, a boat more real or fear more palpable. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream… What do you think, Matthew?”

“It most certainly wasn’t a dream. This miracle definitely took place,” Matthew answered, and he began to turn over deeply in his mind how he could set it down the next day on paper. It would be extremely difficult because he was not entirely sure it was a dream, nor was he entirely sure it was the truth. It was both. The miracle happened, but not on this earth, not on this sea. Elsewhere-but where?

He closed his eyes to meditate and find the answer. But sleep came and took him along.

The next day there was a continuous downpour with strong winds, and the fishermen did not set sail. Shut up in their huts they mended their nets and talked about the odd visitor who was lodging at old Zebedee’s. It seemed he was John the Baptist resuscitated. Immediately after the executioner’s stroke the Baptist bent down, picked up his head, replaced it on his neck and was off in a flash. But to prevent Herod from catching him again and once more cutting off his head, he went and entered the son of the Carpenter of Nazareth and they became one. Seeing him, you went out of your mind. Was he one, or two? It was bewildering. If you looked him straight in the face, he was a simple man who smiled at you. If you moved a bit, one of his eyes was furious and wanted to eat you, the other encouraged you to come closer. You approached and grew dizzy. Without knowing what was happening to you, you abandoned your home and children and followed him!

An old fisherman heard all this and shook his head. “This is what happens to those who don’t get married,” he said. “All they want to do is save the world, by hook or by crook. The sperm rises to their heads and attacks their brains. For God’s sake, all of you: get married, let your forces loose on women and have children in order to calm yourselves!”

Old Jonah had heard the news the previous evening and bad waited and waited in his shack. This can’t last, he thought. Surely my sons will come to see if I’m dead or alive. He waited the whole night, hoped and then lost hope, and in the morning put on the high captain’s boots which were made when he got married and which he wore only on great occasions, encased himself in a torn oilcloth and went off in the rain toward the house of his friend Zebedee. Finding the door open, he entered.

The fire was lighted. Ten or so men and two women sat cross-legged in front of the fire. He recognized one of the women-it was old Salome. The other was young. He had seen her somewhere, but he could not remember where. The house was in half darkness. He recognized his two sons Peter and Andrew when they turned momentarily and their faces were illuminated by the fire glow. But no one heard him come in and no one turned to see him. All were listening with heads thrust forward and mouths agape to someone who faced directly toward him. What was he saying? Old Jonah, all ears, opened his mouth and listened. Now and then he caught a word: “justice,” “God,” “kingdom of heaven…” The same and more of the same-year in, year out! He was sick of it. Instead of telling you how to catch a fish, mend a sail, caulk a boat, or how to avoid getting cold, wet or hungry, they sat there and spoke about heaven! Confound it, didn’t they have anything to say about the earth and the sea? Old Jonah became angry. He coughed so that they would hear him and turn around. No one turned. He raised his huge leg and brought his captain’s boot thundering down-but in vain. They were all hanging on the lips of the pale speaker.

Old Salome was the only one who turned. She looked at him but did not see him. Old Jonah went forward, therefore, and squatted in front of the fireplace, just behind his two sons. Putting out his huge hand, he touched Peter on the shoulder and shook him. Peter turned, saw his father, placed his finger to his lips in a signal for him not to speak, and once again turned his face toward the pale youth just as though this was not Jonah, his own father, just as though it was not months since he had seen him last. First Jonah felt aggrieved, then angry. He took off his boots (which had begun to pinch him) so that by throwing them in the teacher’s face he could silence him at long last and be able to talk to his children. He had already lifted the boots and was swinging them to gather momentum when he felt a restraining hand behind him. Turning, he saw old Zebedee.

“Get up, Jonah,” his friend whispered into his ear. “Let’s go inside. Poor fellow, I’ve got something to tell you.”

The old fisherman put his boots under his arm and followed Zebedee. They entered the inner part of the house and sat down side by side on Salome’s trunk.

“Jonah,” Zebedee began, stammering because he had drunk too much in an attempt to drown his rage, “Jonah, my much-buffeted friend, you had two sons-write them off. I too had a pair of sons, and I wrote them off. It seems their father is God, so why are we butting in? They look at us as if to ask, ‘Who are you, graybeard?’… It’s the end of the world, my poor Jonah!

“At first I got angry too. I felt like grabbing the harpoon and throwing them out. But afterward I saw there was no solution, so I crawled back into my shell and handed the keys over to them. My wife sees eye to eye with them, poor thing. She’s getting a little senile, you know. So mum’s the word, old Zebedee, and mum’s the word, old Jonah-that’s what I wanted to tell you. What’s the use of lying to ourselves? Two and two make four: we’re beaten!”

Once more old Jonah put on his boots and wrapped himself in his oilskin. Then he gazed at Zebedee to see if he had anything more to say. He had not, so Jonah opened the door, looked at the sky, looked at the earth: darkness like pitch; rain, cold… His lips moved: “We’re beaten,” he grumbled, “we’re beaten,” and he splashed through the mud back toward his hut.

While Jonah went puffing along, the son of Mary held his palms out to the fire as if praying to the spirit of God which, hidden in the flames, gives warmth to men. His heart had opened up; he held out his palms and spoke.

“Think not that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets; I have come not to abolish the old commandments but to extend them. You have seen inscribed on the tables of Moses: You shall not kill! But I say to you that whoever is even angry with his brother and lifts his hand against him, or only speaks an unkind word to him, will be hurled down into the flames of hell. You have seen inscribed on the tables of Moses: You shall not commit adultery! But I say to you that whoever even looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery in his heart. The impure glance brings the lecher down to hell…

“The old law instructs you to honor your father and your mother; but I say, Do not imprison your heart within your parents’ home. Let it emerge and enter all homes, embrace the whole of Israel from Mount Hermon to the desert of Idumea and even beyond: east and west-the entire Universe. Our father is God, our mother is Earth. We are half soil and half sky. To honor your father and your mother means to honor Heaven and Earth.”

Old Salome sighed. “Your words are hard, Rabbi, hard for a mother.”

“The word of God is always hard,” Jesus replied.

“Take my two sons,” the old mother murmured, crossing her hands. “Take them; they are yours.”

Jesus heard the orphaned mother and felt that all the sons and daughters of the world were suspended from his neck. He recalled the black he-goat he had seen in the desert with all the sins of the people enclosed in blue amulets and hanging from its neck. Without speaking, he leaned toward the old Salome, who had given him her two sons. He seemed to be saying to her, Look, here is my neck; hang your sons around it…

He threw a handful of vine branches onto the fire. The flames swept over them. For a long time Jesus watched the fire hissingly consume the branches; then he turned again to the companions.

“He who loves father and mother more than me is not worthy to come with me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy to come with me. The old commandments are no longer large enough to hold us; neither are the old loves.”

He paused for a moment, then continued. “Man is a frontier, the place where earth stops and heaven begins. But this frontier never ceases to transport itself and advance toward heaven. With it the commandments of God also transport themselves and advance. I take God’s commandments from the tables of Moses and extend them, make them advance.”

“Does God’s will change, then, Rabbi?” asked John, surprised.

“No, John, beloved. But man’s heart widens and is able to contain more of God’s will.”

“Forward, then,” shouted Peter, jumping up. “Why are we sitting? Let’s go proclaim the new commandments to the world.”

“Wait for the rain to stop so we don’t get wet!” hissed Thomas mockingly.

Judas shook his head, infuriated. “First we’ve got to chase out the Romans,” he said. “We must liberate our bodies before we liberate our souls-each in its proper order. Let’s not start building from the roof downward. First comes the foundation.”

“The foundation is the soul, Judas.”

“I say the foundation is the body!”

“If the soul within us does not change, Judas, the world outside us will never change. The enemy is within, the Romans are within, salvation starts from within!”

Judas jumped up, boiling. For a long time he had kept his heart from crying out. He had listened and listened, storing everything in his breast, but now he could bear it no longer.

“First throw out the Romans!” he shouted again, choking. “First the Romans!”

“But how can we throw them out?” asked Nathanael, who had begun to feel uneasy and to cast sidelong glances at the door. “Will you tell us how, Iscariot?”

“Revolution! Remember the Maccabees! They expelled the Greeks. It’s our turn now; it’s time for new Maccabees to expel the Romans. Afterward. when everything is in our own hands again, we can settle about rich and poor, injured and injurer.”

No one spoke. The disciples were not sure which of the two roads to take. They gazed at the teacher and waited. He was looking thoughtfully at the flames… When would men understand that only one thing exists in both the visible and invisible worlds-the soul!

Peter rose. “Excuse me,” he said, “but these are complicated discussions and I don’t understand them. Experience will teach us which is the foundation. Let’s wait and see what happens. Master, give us the authority to go out by ourselves in order to bring the Good News to men. When we return we’ll talk it all over again.”

Jesus raised his head and swept his eyes over the disciples. He nodded to Peter, John and Jacob. They came forward and he placed his hands heavily on their heads.

“Go, with my blessing,” he said. “Proclaim the Good News to men. Do not be afraid. God will hold you in his palm and keep you from perishing. Not a single sparrow falls from the sky without his will, and you are worth many sparrows. God be with you! Come back quickly, and may thousands of souls be suspended from your necks. You are my apostles.”

The three apostles received the blessing. Opening the door, they went out into the tempest, and each took a different road.

The days went by. Zebedee’s yard filled with people in the morning and emptied in the evening. The sick, the lame and those possessed with devils came from every direction. Some wept, others grew furious and shouted at the Son of man to perform a miracle and cure them. Wasn’t this why God had sent him? Let him appear, then, in the courtyard!…

Hearing them day after day, Jesus became sad. He would go out to the yard and touch and bless each one, saying, “There are two kinds of miracles, my brothers, those of the body and those of the soul. Have faith only in the miracles of the soul. Repent and cleanse your souls, and your flesh will be cleansed. The soul is the tree. Sickness, health, Paradise and the Inferno are its fruits.”

Many believed and as soon as they believed felt their blood spurt up and fill their benumbed bodies. They threw away their crutches and danced. Others, as Jesus leaned his hand against their extinguished eyes, felt light flow out from the tips of his fingers. They raised their eyelids and shouted with joy, for now they saw the world!

Matthew kept his quill ready and his eyes and ears open. He did not allow even a single word to fall to the ground, but collected everything and placed it on paper. And thus little by little, day by day, the Gospel-the Good News-was composed. It took root, threw out branches and became a tree to bear fruit and nourish those born and yet to be born. Matthew knew the Scriptures by heart. He noticed how the teacher’s sayings and deeds were exactly the same as the prophets, centuries earlier, had proclaimed; and if once in a while the prophecies and Jesus’ life did not quite match, it was because the mind of man was not eager to understand the hidden meaning of the sacred text. The word of God had seven levels of meaning, and Matthew struggled to find at which level the incompatible elements could find their mates. Even if he occasionally matched things by force, God forgives! Not only would he forgive, he desired this. Every time Matthew took up his quill, did not an angel come and bend over his ear to intone what he was to write?

Today was the first time Matthew clearly understood where to start and how the life and times of Jesus had to be taken in hand. First of all, where he was born and who his parents and grandparents were, for fourteen generations. He was born in Nazareth to poor parents-to Joseph the carpenter and Mary, daughter of Joachim and Anne… Matthew took up his quill and called silently upon God to enlighten his mind and give him strength. But as he began to inscribe the first words on the paper in a beautiful hand, his fingers stiffened. The angel had seized him. He heard wings beat angrily in the air and a voice trumpeted in his ear, “Not the son of Joseph! What says the prophet Isaiah: ‘Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son.’… Write: Mary was a virgin. The archangel Gabriel descended to her house before any man had touched her, and said, ‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you!’ Straightway her bosom bore fruit… Do you hear? That’s what you’re to write. And not in Nazareth; no, he wasn’t born in Nazareth. Do not forget the prophet Micah: ‘And you, Bethlehem, tiny among the thousands of Judah, from you shall come forth One who is to be ruler in Israel, and his root is from of old, from the days of eternity.’ Jesus was therefore born in Bethlehem, and in a stable. What says the infallible psalm: ‘He took him from the stable where the lambs were suckling, in order to make him shepherd of the flock of Jacob.’ Why do you stop? I have freed your hand-write!”

But Matthew grew angry. He turned toward the invisible wings at his right and growled softly, so that the sleeping disciples would not hear him: “It’s not true. I don’t want to write, and I won’t!”

Mocking laughter was heard in the air, and a voice: “How can you understand what truth is, you handful of dust? Truth has seven levels. On the highest is enthroned the truth of God, which bears not the slightest resemblance to the truth of men. It is this truth, Matthew Evangelist, that I intone in your ear… Write: ‘And three Magi, following a large star, came to adore the infant…’ ”

The sweat gushed from Matthew’s forehead. “I won’t write! I won’t write!” he cried, but his hand was running over the page, writing.

Jesus heard Matthew’s struggle in his sleep and opened his eyes. He saw him bent over and gasping under the lamp, the squeaking quill running furiously over the page, ready to break.

“Matthew, my brother,” he said to him quietly, “why are you groaning? Who is above you?”

“Don’t ask me, Rabbi,” he replied, his quill still racing over the paper. “I’m in a hurry. Go to sleep.”

Jesus had a presentiment that God must be over him. He closed his eyes so that he would not disturb the holy possession.