The Last Temptation of Christ

Chapter Twenty-Four

THE DAYS and nights passed by. One moon came and went; the next came. Rain, cold, fires on the hearth; saintly vigils in old Salome’s house… Capernaum ’s poor and aggrieved came each evening after the day’s work in order to hear the new Comforter. They arrived poor and unconsoled; they returned to their wretched huts rich and comforted. He transplanted their vineyards, boats and joys from earth to heaven; explained to them how much surer heaven was than earth. The hearts of the unfortunate filled with patience and hope. Even Zebedee’s savage heart began to be tamed. Little by little Jesus’ words penetrated him, lightly inebriating his mind. This world thinned out and over his head hovered a new world made of eternity and imperishable wealth. In this odd new world Zebedee and his sons and old Salome and even his five caïques and full coffers would live evermore. Best not grumble, therefore, when he saw these uninvited guests day and night in his house or sitting around his table. It would come, the recompense would come.

In midwinter the sun-drenched halcyon days arrived. The sun gleamed, warmed the bare bones of the earth and duped the almond tree in the middle of Zebedee’s yard: it thought that spring had come and began to put out buds. The kingfishers had been awaiting these warm merciful days, for they wished to entrust their eggs to the rocks. All the rest of God’s birds procreate in the spring, the kingfisher in midwinter. God pitied them and promised to allow the sun to come up warm several days in the winter, just for their sakes. Rejoicing, these nightingales of the sea flew now over the waters and rocks of Gennesaret and warbled their thanks to God for having once more kept his word.

During these lovely days the remaining disciples scattered to the fishing caïques and near-by villages so that they too could try their wings. Philip and Nathanael set out overland to meet with their friends the farmers and shepherds and proclaim the word of God to them. Andrew and Thomas went to the lake to catch the fishermen. Unsociable Judas departed all by himself toward the mountain to let the anger filter out of his system. Much of the master’s behavior pleased him, but there were some things he simply could not stomach. Sometimes the wild Baptist thundered through Jesus’ mouth, but sometimes the same old son of the Carpenter still bleated: Love! Love!… What love, clairvoyant? Whom to love? The world has gangrene and needs the knife-that’s what I say!

Matthew was the only one who stayed in the house. He did not want to leave, for the teacher might speak, and Matthew must not let his words be carried away by the winds; he might perform some miracle, and Matthew must see it with his own eyes in order to recount it. And then again, where could he go, to whom could he talk? No one would come near him, because once upon a time he had been a dirty publican. He therefore remained in the house and from his corner glanced stealthily at Jesus, who sat in the yard under the budding almond tree. Magdalene was at his feet and he was speaking to her softly. Matthew strained his huge ear to catch a word, but in vain. All he could do was watch the rabbi’s severe, afflicted face and his hand, which every so often skimmed Magdalene’s hair.

It was the Sabbath and pilgrims had set out in the early morning from distant villages-farmers from Tiberias, fishermen from Gennesaret, shepherds from the mountains-to hear the new prophet speak to them about Paradise, the Inferno, unfortunate mankind, and God’s mercy. They would take him-the sun was out, it was a splendid day-and bring him up to the green mountainside where they could strew themselves on the warm grass to listen to him, and perhaps they might even fall sweetly asleep on the springtime turf. They assembled, therefore, outside in the road, for the door was shut, and shouted for the teacher to emerge.

“Magdalene, my sister,” said Jesus, “listen; the people have come to fetch me.”

But Magdalene, lost within the rabbi’s eyes, did not hear. And of all that he had been telling her for such a long time, she had heard nothing. She rejoiced solely in the sound of his voice: the voice told her everything. She was not a man; she had no need for words. Once she had said to him, “Rabbi, why do you talk to me about the future life? We are not men, to have need of another, an eternal life; we are women, and for us one moment with the man we love is everlasting Paradise, one moment far from the man we love is everlasting hell. It is here on this earth that we women live out eternity.”

“Magdalene, my sister,” Jesus repeated to her, “the people have come to fetch me. I must go.” He got up and opened the door. The road was full of ardent eyes and shouting mouths, and of the groaning sick who were stretching out their hands…

Magdalene appeared at the door and put her hand over her mouth so that she would not scream. “The people are wild beasts, wild bloodthirsty beasts who will devour him,” she murmured as she watched him calmly go in the lead, with the crowd behind him bellowing.

Jesus advanced with great, calm strides toward the mountain which rose above the lake, the mountain where he had once opened his arms to the multitude and cried, Love! Love! But between that day and this his mind had grown fierce. The desert had hardened his heart; he still felt the Baptist’s lips like two lighted coals upon his mouth. The prophecies flashed on and off within him; the divine inhuman shouts came back to life and he saw God’s three daughters, Leprosy, Madness and Fire, tear through the heavens and descend.

When he reached the summit of the hill and opened his mouth to speak, the ancient prophet bounded up from within him, and he began to shout: “ ‘The fearful army comes bellowing from the ends of the earth; terrible and quick-moving, it comes. Not one of the warriors limps from fatigue, not one is sleepy or ever sleeps. Not a single waist band is slack or a single shoe thong broken. The arrows are sharp, the bow strings taut; the horses’ hoofs are hard stones, the chariot wheels are whirlwinds. It roars menacingly like a lioness. Whomever it catches is lifted up in its teeth and can be saved by no one!’ ”

“What army is this?” shouted an old man whose white hair was standing on end.

“What army is this? Do you ask, you deaf, blind, foolish people!” Jesus lifted his hand to heaven. “It is the army of God, wretches! From a distance God’s warriors seem to be angels, but up close they are flames. I myself took them for angels this past summer on this very rock where I now stand, and I cried, Love! Love! But now the God of the desert has opened my eyes. I saw. They are flames! ‘I can endure you no longer,’ shouts God. ‘I am coming down!’ Lamentation is heard in Jerusalem and in Rome, lamentation upon the mountains and at the tombs. The earth weeps for its children. God’s angels descend to the scorched earth, search with their lamps to discover where Rome was, where Jerusalem. Between their fingers they crumble the ashes and smell them. This must have been Rome, they say, this Jerusalem; and they toss the ashes to the winds.”

“Is there no salvation?” cried a young mother, squeezing her baby to her breast. “I’m not talking for myself, but for my son.”

“There is!” Jesus answered her. “In every flood God contrives an ark and entrusts to it the leaven of the future world. I hold the key!”

“Who’ll be saved as leaven? Whom will you save? Do we have time?” cried another old man, and his lower jaw trembled.

“The Universe passes before me and I choose. On one side, all those who overate, overdrank, overkissed. On the other, the starving and oppressed of the world. These, the starving and oppressed, I choose. They are the stones with which I shall build the New Jerusalem.”

“The New Jerusalem?” shouted the people, their eyes shining.

“Yes, the New Jerusalem. I did not know it myself until God confided the secret to me in the desert. Love comes only after the flames. First this world will be reduced to ashes and then God will plant his new vineyard. There is no better fertilizer than ashes.”

“No better fertilizer than ashes!” echoed a hoarse, joyous voice which seemed like his own, only deeper and happier. Surprised, Jesus turned and saw Judas behind him. He felt afraid, for the redbeard’s face flashed lightning, as if the coming flames had already fallen over him.

Judas rushed forward and clasped Jesus’ hand. “Rabbi,” he whispered with unexpected tenderness, “my rabbi…”

Never in his life had Judas spoken so tenderly to anyone. He felt ashamed. He stooped and pretended to ask something, though he himself did not know what; then, finding a small premature anemone, he pulled it up by the roots.

In the evening when Jesus returned and sat down once more on his stool in front of the hearth and stared into the fire, he suddenly felt that his inner God was in a hurry and would allow him to wait no longer. He was overcome by sorrow, exasperation and shame. Once more today he had spoken and waved the flames over the heads of the people. The simple fishermen and farmers had been frightened for a moment, but had then immediately regained their composure and quieted down. All these threats seemed to them like a fairy tale, and several of them had fallen asleep on the warm grass, lulled by his voice.

Uneasy and silent, he watched the fire. Magdalene stood in the corner and looked at him. She wanted to speak but did not dare. At times a woman’s speech gladdens a man; at times it makes him furious. Magdalene knew this and remained silent.

There was no sound. The house smelled of fish and rosemary. The window facing the courtyard was open. Somewhere nearby some medlar trees must have bloomed, for their aroma, sweet and peppery, entered with the evening breeze.

Jesus got up and closed the window. All these springtime perfumes were the breath of temptation; they were not the proper atmosphere for his soul. It was time to leave and find the air which suited him. God was in a hurry.

The door opened. Judas entered and flitted his blue eyes around the room. He saw the teacher with his eyes pinned on the fire; saw high-rumped Magdalene, Zebedee, who had fallen asleep and was snoring, and under the lamp, the scrivener scratching away and filling his paper with blots… He shook his head. Was this their great campaign? Was this the way they were setting out to conquer the world? One clairvoyant, one secretary, one woman of questionable morals, a few fishermen, one cobbler, one peddler-and all taking their ease at Capernaum! He curled himself up in a corner. Old Salome had already set the table.

“I’m not hungry,” he growled; “I’m sleepy,” and he shut his eyes so that he would not see the others, who presently sat down to dinner. A moth came in through the door, beat its wings around the flame of the lamp, went for a moment and fluttered in Jesus’ hair, then began to circle the room.

“We’re going to have a visitor,” said old Salome. “We’ll be pleased to see him.”

Jesus blessed the bread, divided it, and they began to eat. No one spoke. Old Zebedee, who had been awakened for the meal, felt suffocated by so much silence. He could stand it no longer.

“Talk, lads!” he said, banging his fist down on the table. “What’s wrong? Is there a corpse in front of us? Haven’t you heard: whenever three or four sit down and eat and do not talk about God, they might as well be sitting at a funeral supper. The old rabbi of Nazareth -God bless him-told me that once, and I still remember it. So speak, son of Mary. Bring God again into my house! Excuse me if I call you son of Mary, but I still don’t know what to call you. Some call you the son of the Carpenter, others the son of David, son of God, son of man. Everyone is confused. Obviously the world has not yet made up its mind.”

“Old Zebedee,” Jesus answered, “countless armies of angels fly around God’s throne. Their voices are silver, gold, clear running water, and they praise God-but from a distance. No angel dares come too close, except one.”

“Which?” asked Zebedee, opening wide his well-wined eyes.

“The angel of silence,” Jesus answered, and spoke no more.

The master of the house choked, filled his cup with wine, and emptied it in one gulp.

This visitor is certainly a kill-joy, he said to himself. You feel as if you’re sitting at table with a lion… No sooner had this thought come to him than he became frightened, and rose.

“I’m going to find old Jonah so that we can talk a bit like human beings,” he said, making for the door. But at that instant some light footsteps were heard in the yard.

“Look, here’s our visitor,” said old Salome, rising. They all turned. On the threshold stood the old rabbi of Nazareth.

How he had aged and melted away! There remained of him nothing but a few bones wrapped in a sun-baked hide-just enough to give the soul something to catch hold of so it would not fly away. Lately the rabbi had been unable to sleep, and when he sometimes did fall asleep, at dawn, he would have a strange and recurring dream: angels, flames… and Jerusalem in the form of a wounded, howling beast which had scrambled up Mount Zion. The other day at dawn he had dreamed the dream again and his endurance had given out. He jumped up, left his house, reached the fields, traversed the plain of Esdrelon. God-trodden Carmel towered before him. The prophet Elijah would surely be standing at its summit. It was he who dragged the rabbi onward and gave him the strength to mount. The sun went down when the old man reached the top of the mountain. He knew that three great upright rocks stood as an altar on the sacred summit and that around them were the bones and horns of the sacrifices. But as he approached and raised his eyes, he uttered a cry: the stones were gone! This evening three men with gigantic bodies stood on the summit. They were dressed all in white, like snow, and their faces were made of light. Jesus, the son of Mary, was in the center. To his left stood the prophet Elijah clutching burning coals in his fists; to his right Moses with twisted horns and holding two tables inscribed in letters of fire… The rabbi fell on his face. “Adonai! Adonai!” he whispered, trembling. He knew that Elijah and Moses had not died, and that they would reappear on earth on the fearful day of the Lord. It was a sign that the end of the world had come. They had appeared-there they were!-and the rabbi shook with fear. He raised his eyes to look. Gleaming in the dusk were the three gigantic sun-drenched rocks.

The rabbi had been opening the Scriptures for many years; for many years he had breathed in the breath of Jehovah. He had learned how to find God’s hidden meaning behind the visible and the invisible-and now he understood. He raised his crosier from the ground-where did his ramshackle body find such strength?-and set out for Nazareth, Cana, Magdala, Capernaum-everywhere-in order to find the son of Mary. He had heard of his return from the desert of Judea, and now as he followed his trail throughout Galilee he saw how the farmers and fishermen had already begun to compose the new prophet’s legend: what miracles he performed, what words he uttered, which stone he stood on to speak, and how the stone was suddenly covered with flowers… He questioned an old man whom he met on the road. The old man lifted his hands to heaven. “I was blind. He touched my eyelids and gave me my sight. Though he instructed me not to say a word about it, I’m making the rounds of the villages, telling everyone.”

“And can you inform me where he is now to be found, old man?”

“I left him at Zebedee’s house, in Capernaum. Step lively to catch him before he ascends to heaven.”

The rabbi stepped lively, was overtaken by nightfall, found old Zebedee’s house in the dark, and entered. Old Salome jumped up to welcome him.

“Salome,” the rabbi said, striding over the threshold, “peace be on this house, and may the wealth of Abraham and Isaac fall to its owners.”

He turned and was dazzled by the sight of Jesus.

“Many birds pass over me and bring me news of you,” he said. “My child, the road you have taken is rough and exceedingly long. God be with you!”

“Amen!” Jesus answered in a grave voice.

Old Zebedee put his hand to his heart and greeted the visitor. “What wind blows you to my house, Father?” he asked.

But the rabbi-perhaps he did not hear-sat down next to the fire without replying. He was tired, cold and hungry, but he had no desire to eat. Two or three routes stretched before him, and he did not know which to take. Why had he set out and come? To reveal his vision to Jesus. But if this vision was not from God? The rabbi knew very well that the Tempter could take on God’s face in order to delude men. If he disclosed what he had seen to Jesus, the demon of arrogance might take possession of his soul, and then he would be lost and he, the rabbi, would have to answer for it. Should he guard his secret and follow him wherever he went? But was it right for him, the rabbi of Nazareth, to follow this most bold of revolutionaries, a man who boasted he would bring a new law? Just now on his way, had he not found Cana in confusion because of something Jesus had said which was contrary to the Law? It seemed that on the holy Sabbath he had gone to the fields and had seen someone at work clearing ditches and irrigating his garden. “Man,” he had said to him, “if you know what you are doing, may joy descend upon you; if you know not, may you be cursed, for you transgress the Law.” When the old rabbi heard this, he felt troubled. This rebel is dangerous, he reflected. Look sharp, Simeon, or you’ll find yourself damned-and at your age!

Jesus came and sat down beside him. Judas was lying on the ground; he had closed his eyes. Matthew had gone to his place under the lamp and was waiting, pen in hand. But Jesus did not speak. He watched the fire devour the wood and felt the rabbi next to him puffing as though he were still on the road.

Meanwhile old Salome made up a bed for the rabbi. He was an old man; he must have a soft mattress and a pillow. She also placed a small pitcher of water next to the bed so that he would not be thirsty during the night. Old Zebedee saw that the new visitor had not come for him. Taking his cudgel, he went out to find Jonah in order to breathe the breath of a human being again-his house was filled with lions. Magdalene and Salome withdrew to the inner rooms so that Jesus and the rabbi could be alone. They had a presentiment that the two men had weighty secrets to discuss.

But Jesus and the rabbi did not talk. They both understood perfectly that words can never empty and relieve the heart of man. Only silence can do that, and they kept silent. The hours went by. Matthew fell asleep with the quill in his hand; Zebedee returned after having had his fill of talk and lay down next to his old wife. It was midnight. The rabbi had had his fill also-of silence. He got up.

“We said a good deal tonight, Jesus,” he whispered. “Tomorrow we shall resume!” He drew toward his bed with sagging knees.

The sun rose and mounted in the sky. It was almost noontime, but the rabbi still had not opened his eyes. Jesus had gone to the lake shore to talk with the fishermen. He climbed into Jonah’s boat to give him a hand with the fishing. Judas walked around aimlessly, all by himself, like a sheep dog.

Old Salome leaned over the rabbi to try to hear if he was still breathing. He was. “Glory be to God, he is still alive,” she murmured. She was about to go away when the old rabbi opened his eyes, saw her leaning over him, understood, and smiled.

“Don’t be afraid, Salome,” he said. “I’m not dead. I can’t die yet.”

“We’ve both grown old,” Salome replied severely. “We’re traveling further and further from men and are approaching God. No one can know the hour or the moment. It’s a sin, I believe, to say, ‘I can’t die yet.’ ”

“I can’t die yet, dear Salome,” the rabbi insisted. “The God of Israel gave me his word: ‘You will not die, Simeon, unless you have seen the Messiah!’”

But as he said this his eyes opened wide with fear. Could he already have seen the Messiah? Could Jesus be the Messiah? Was the vision on Carmel a vision sent by God? If so, the time had come for him to die! A cold sweat bathed his whole body. He did not know whether to rejoice or to begin to wail. His soul rejoiced: the Messiah had come! But his faltering body did not want to die. Panting, he got up, crawled to the door, sat down on the threshold to sun himself, and fell deep into thought.

Jesus returned toward nightfall, exhausted. He had fished with Jonah all day long. The boat overflowed with fish, and Jonah, overjoyed, opened his mouth to speak but then changed his mind and waded knee-deep into the mass of twitching fish, looked at Jesus-and laughed.

That same night the disciples returned from the near-by villages. They squatted around Jesus and began to relate everything they had seen and done. Deepening their voices in order to frighten the farmers and fishermen, they had proclaimed the coming of the day of the Lord; but their auditors had continued to mend their nets tranquilly or to dig their gardens. Now and then they shook their heads, said, “We’ll see… we’ll see…” and then changed the subject.

While the disciples were relating this, lo! the three apostles suddenly returned. Judas, who was silent and sitting off to one side, could not contain his laughter when he saw them.

“What’s this mess you’re in, apostles!” he shouted. “Poor devils, they must have beaten you silly!”

And truly, Peter’s right eye was swollen and running, John’s cheeks were full of scratches and blood, and Jacob limped.

“Rabbi,” said Peter with a sigh, “the word of God is a lot of trouble, a lot of trouble indeed!”

They all laughed, but Jesus looked at them thoughtfully.

“They did beat us silly,” continued Peter, who was in a hurry to reveal everything and relieve his mind. “At first we said each one should take his own road. But then we were afraid, each one alone, and the three of us reunited and began the preaching. I climbed up on a rock or in a tree in the village square, clapped my hands or put my fingers to my mouth and whistled, and the people assembled. John spoke whenever there were plenty of women. That’s why his cheeks are all scratched. When the men were in the majority, Jacob with his deep voice, took over; and if he grew too hoarse, I got up and spoke. What did we say? The same things you say. But they received us with rotten lemons and boos because we brought, as they said, the ruin of the world. They fell on us, the women with their nails, the men with their fists, and now look, just look at the state we’re in!”

Judas guffawed again, but Jesus turned and with a severe look closed the impudent mouth.

“I know that I send you as lambs among wolves,” he said. “They will revile you, stone you and call you immoral because you make war on immorality; they will slander you, saying you want to abolish faith, family and fatherland because our faith is purer, our house wider and our fatherland the whole world! Gird yourselves well, comrades. Say goodbye to bread, joy and security. We are going to war!”

Nathanael turned and glanced anxiously at Philip. But Philip signaled to him as if to say, Don’t be afraid-he talks that way just to test us.

The old rabbi was very tired. He had lain down again on his bed, but his mind was wide open: he saw and heard everything. He had made his decision now and felt tranquil. A voice rose up within him-his own? God’s? perhaps it was both-and commanded him: Simeon, wherever he goes, follow him!

Peter prepared to reopen his mouth. He had more to tell, but Jesus put out his hand. “That’s enough!” he said.

He got up. Jerusalem rose up before his eyes: savage, full of blood and at the height of despair-which is where hope begins. Capernaum vanished along with its simple fishermen and peasants. The lake of Gennesaret sank away within him. Zebedee’s house narrowed-the four walls approached each other and touched him. Suffocating, he went and opened the door.

Why did he stay here and eat, drink, have the fire lighted for him and the table set noon and night? He was spending his time aimlessly. Was this how he intended to save the world? Wasn’t he ashamed of himself?

He went into the yard. There was a warm wind which carried the smell of budding trees. The stars were strings of pearls around the neck and arms of the night. Below, at his feet, the earth tingled as though countless mouths were suckling at its breasts.

He turned his face toward the south, toward holy Jerusalem. He seemed to be listening intently and to be trying in the darkness to discern her hard face of blood-stained stones. And while his mind, ardent and despairing, flowed like a river past mountain and plain and was at last about to touch the holy city, suddenly it seemed to him that he saw a huge shadow stir in the yard under the budding almond tree. All at once something darker than night itself (that was how he was able to distinguish it) arose in the black air. It was his gigantic fellow voyager. In the still night he could clearly hear her deep breathing, but he was not afraid. Time had accustomed him to her breath. He waited, and then slowly, commandingly, a tranquil voice from under the almond tree said, “Let us go!”

John had appeared at the doorway, troubled. He thought he heard a voice in the darkness. “Rabbi,” he whispered, “whom are you talking to?”

But Jesus entered the house, put out his hand and took his shepherd’s staff from the corner.

“Friends,” he said, “let us go!” He marched toward the door without looking back to see if anyone was following him.

The old rabbi jumped out of his bed, tightened his belt and seized his crosier. “I’m coming with you, my child,” he said, and he was the first to start for the door.

Old Salome was spinning. She rose also. She placed the distaff on her trunk and said, “I’m coming too. Zebedee, I leave you the keys. Farewell!” She unbelted the keys from around her waist and surrendered them to her husband. Then she wrapped herself tightly in her kerchief, surveyed her home and with a nod of her head bid it goodbye. Her heart had suddenly become that of a twenty-year-old girl.

Magdalene rose also, silent and happy. The agitated disciples got up and looked at each other.

“Where are we headed?” asked Thomas, hooking his horn onto his belt.

“At this time of night? Why in such a hurry? Won’t tomorrow morning do?” said Nathanael, and he glanced sullenly at Philip.

But Jesus, with long strides, had already passed through the yard and begun his march toward the south.