“I’m sorry,” Yeshua said, trying to rid himself of the boy, who was tugging at his mantle. “I’m not a healer. I’m a teacher. I can show you—”
“Please, Rabbi!” The boy’s eyes filled with tears. “My sister, Rabbi. Please...”
Yeshua looked toward the lake where his companions were waiting, and then back at the boy, whose voice quivered with desperation. Yeshua sighed. Just this once, he told himself. Just this once more would he succumb to pleas.
He followed the boy down an alley to a house at the back of a dead-end street. The boy banged on a sturdy wooden door three times his size.
“Father, it’s me, Tavi!” When the door creaked open, the boy ran ahead through a rose garden to a modest house. “Come!” he called again.
His father, a gray-haired man with the same aquamarine eyes, followed them. “My daughter, Rabbi,” he said. “Her husband died four months ago, and now she is also dying.”
In a room lit by a single oil lamp, five women wailed by a bed where a woman lay wrapped in white sheets. They parted to let Yeshua through, to allow him a better look. Her skin appeared gray in the dim light, her eyes rolled backward, and her hair was soaked with perspiration. Yeshua lowered his ear to her chest and listened. She was alive, but barely. He placed his hands on top of her head, then on her forehead, and at last on her feet.
“Bring me a jar of cold water,” he said to the boy. “And honey.” Yeshua lifted her arms and massaged her armpits. Cradling her head, he centered on oneness with God and transformed himself into a channel for healing energy. He let God’s love flow through his hands into her, reaching every corner of her body and every dimension of her soul. He visualized her as a perfect being, united with God, one with himself and with everyone else. He filled her with God’s light until there was no space for illness. And thus he sat with her, holding her hand, touching her head, and massaging her feet until the fever broke.
Yeshua was still connected to her when she opened her eyes and stared at him in awe.
“Who are you?”
“Yeshua.”
“I saw God.”
“I know.”
He washed her face with cold water and fed her drops of honey. He watched as her spirit pervaded her body again, resting by her to make sure the malady had vanished for good.
When Yeshua left the house, dusk had already fallen. Locusts hummed. A wolf howled in the distance. He was so tired he could barely walk, but his soul had filled with euphoria.
Something had shifted; healing the girl had awakened a buried sensation. He could barely remember leaving her house. The whole day had disappeared in a mist. No doubt, he had brought her to the other side where they had united with the Eternal Spirit. She said she had seen God. He had seen God, too.
And it was marvelous.
When he reached the encampment, he touched his finger to his lips to signal silence. He wanted to be alone.
He walked along the shore away from the others and lay down on his mat under an olive tree. The stars glistened high above the lake. The waves slapped against the rocks. Yeshua pressed his hands together in prayer to thank God for inviting him into his kingdom.
“It’s impossible for a man to ride two horses,” Yeshua said as he spoke to a crowd a few days later. “Just like it’s impossible to stretch two bows at the same time. Or for a servant to serve two masters—for he would be faithful to one and neglect the other.”
He looked out at his listeners.
“Only God can be your true master. Neither I, nor the priests, nor even your fathers may command you. To enter the heavenly kingdom, you must make oneness with Yahweh your only goal.”
Yeshua gestured to a mother feeding an infant. “Look at that baby. Only beings like him will enter God’s Kingdom.”
“Are you saying that only children can enter God’s Kingdom?”
“Not at all, but you must make yourself as innocent as a child. Notice how his skin is as fresh and smooth as his unblemished thoughts. Like him, one day you will no longer notice the difference between heaven and earth and between male and female. When your thoughts are that pure and innocent, you will enter the kingdom.”
“Will we see God’s face in everyone?”
A woman’s voice. Yeshua scanned the faces in the crowd to find her. “Yes, exactly.” He shaded his eyes with his hand and saw a familiar face grin at him. His heart jumped. Tavi’s sister, the young widow he had healed a few days earlier.
“Just so,” he said, smiling at her before he forced his attention back to the sermon. “As I have said before, love your enemies and bless those who curse you. Pray for them. If someone slaps you on the cheek, offer him the other cheek as well. If someone steals your coat, let him have your tunic, too. Because we are all one single spirit. Help anyone who asks you. Treat others like you want to be treated. It’s that simple: when you are kind to another, you are also kind to yourself.”
His final words echoed in his head. Sometimes he forgot to treat himself with kindness, as if spreading his knowledge had a time limit he couldn’t ignore. By now he knew that only a handful of listeners would understand his message. He accepted that. The ones who did made it worthwhile. They would be the torches that spread light around the world.
Tavi’s sister had pushed her way forward. She looked so different; her indigo eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy with a healthy glow. Yeshua pressed his palms together to show the sermon was over and walked toward her.
“Rabbi, do you remember me?” she asked. “I’m Mariamne.”
“I’m glad you came.”
She tilted her head and blushed.
Yeshua’s heart pounded in his ears. Why was he reacting like this?
“I came to thank you,” she said. “But now that I’ve heard you speak, I would like to know more of your words.”
Yeshua’s cheeks burned. He had taught hundreds of women in many countries, yet no one had affected him this way. She was attractive in the most common way: tall and slender, milky skin, and eyes the color of the Bay of Bengal. Her sleek hair fell in soft curls under the turquoise scarf that framed her face perfectly. Her full lips reminded him of Ramaa’s, plump and succulent. Yeshua ached with the desire to kiss her.
She left him speechless.
“Master, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear more. May I join you? I promise I won’t be a burden.”
Yeshua swallowed. He should say no. She would distract him from his mission. But then again, didn’t she also have the right to seek enlightenment? He nodded curtly and turned away, anxious to leave her alone and recover his senses.
At a safe distance by the lake, he once again found solitude beneath the tree where he had slept a few nights earlier. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, placed his hands in his lap, and meditated on his heart.
“Release me,” he pleaded. “Free me from this yearning.”
“How fortunate are the humble,” Yeshua said to his growing group of followers when they had settled back in Capernaum, “because the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to you. And how fortunate are those who mourn, because they will be comforted. Those who hunger for fairness will be satisfied, and those who are pure of mind will see God. My brothers and sisters, you are the peacemakers who will be called the sons of God.”
His disciples listened attentively, their eyes ablaze. Three among them, his brother Yakov, the fisherman Kephas, and Mariamne of Magdala, shone like fireflies in their own right. Another six were on the brink of enlightenment.
A woman pushed her way to the front of the tent. “Your mother and brothers are waiting outside. They’re asking for you.”
Yeshua nodded to her, and then turned to address his students. “Who is my mother—anyone? And who are my brothers? You are. Because anyone who answers God’s call is my brother, father, sister, and mother. You, the people who live by God’s words, you are my family.”
He looked up and saw the hurt look on Ama’s face. Yeshua’s heart sagged. She had entered in silence
and had heard his harsh words. When she turned to leave, Yeshua hurried after her. “Ama, you came.”
His mother’s cheeks were streaked with tears. “I came. And I heard.” She tried to push him away, but Yeshua held her in his arms and wouldn’t let her go.
“I’m sorry. I only meant to say… Of course, you will always be my mother.” He looked at Iosa and Tau’ma, who stood by her side. “And you will always be my brothers. But these people are my brethren, too. Won’t you stay? Please.”
His mother wiped her tears on her sleeve, then sat next to the other women, who made room for her on their mat.
Delighted to have his family present, Yeshua continued:
“As you well know, you cannot harvest grapes from thorny bushes—or figs from thistles. In the same way, a respectable man will produce high-quality goods, whereas a wicked man will deliver only poor ones. We all act according to the wealth of our hearts. That is, we react either with love—or with fear.” He glanced at his mother to make sure she was listening. “You see, the Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast: a small amount mixed with flour produces several large loaves of bread. Accept the yeast of love into your heart and watch how the dough rises within you. Then divide the dough into loaves and share it with others, who will take it into their own hearts. Now, hear me well, if you have ears.”
Yeshua’s mother’s eyes glowed; she had already forgiven him.
After the lesson, Ama and Yeshua took a walk along the crumbled town wall and sat on a boulder by the shore. Ama caressed his hand.
“Who are these people who follow you from village to village? Have you made sure they’re trustworthy and decent?”
Yeshua put his arm around her frail shoulders. “Ama, some of them are like children who have settled down to rest in a field that belongs to someone else. When the owner returns, they will rise and leave. They don’t always understand why they’re here, and some of them are too easily impressed. I tell them to be on their guard, to be like the master of the house who knows a thief is coming, so they will be armed against deceit.”
His mother caressed his cheek. “Are you coming home tonight?”
Yeshua lifted her chin to face him and pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I am home, Ama. This is my home now.”
Chapter Thirty-TWO
Capernaum, Galilee, AD 28
Yeshua’s only distraction was Mariamne. As much as he tried to avoid looking at her, she always caught his eye. Her shaved head only enhanced her beauty. She reminded him of Ramaa, and like his first love, she brought a special light and joy to the group. But however hard the women worked, some of the men were still opposed to having them around.
“It isn’t fair for Mariamne to follow us,” Andreas, the fisherman, said a few weeks after she had joined them. “You are wasting her time.”
Yeshua squatted next to his friend to hear better. “Why do you say that?”
“Why do you think? A woman can never reach eternal life. Why mislead her?” The envy in Andreas’s voice was palpable.
Yeshua patted his shoulder, wondering if everyone had noticed the attention he awarded Mariamne. “I would not worry about her. Won’t you help me teach the women how to be perfect, like men? Because you don’t believe women are unable to learn, do you?”
After that conversation, none of the men raised the subject again, and Mariamne and the other women remained as equals. They slept apart from the men, but during lessons, they were both seen and heard as they sat among the men and partook in discussions.
Despite Yeshua’s efforts to avoid Mariamne, she seemed to be everywhere. When he went off to pray alone, he would find her sitting in the exact spot where he had planned to go. When he walked to the market, she would be standing in front of him, beside him, behind him. She was everywhere.
One morning before dawn, as Yeshua finished his prayer in the lake, he found Mariamne waiting for him on the shore. His heart beat so fiercely he couldn’t speak. He grinned like a lovestruck boy and settled down next to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, buried her nose in his neck, and gently sniffed his skin. Then she kissed his chin.
Yeshua froze. He wanted to be transported away from her, leave this situation, escape. But this time, God didn’t listen. Mariamne moved her hands across his back and stroked his damp hair. Yeshua held his breath. He closed his eyes, hoping she would stop, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned his face toward hers and kissed him. The salty taste of her mouth startled him. Before he realized what he was doing, he opened his lips and let his tongue meet hers. Oh, she was delightful. Mariamne brushed her face against his cheeks and nibbled his earlobe.
Yeshua broke away to look at the wondrous being in front of him. He could no longer deny it. He loved her. He traced the line of her face down to her neck and let his hand slide under her tunic where her skin was as smooth as the softest peach. He kissed her cleavage and licked the bare skin between her breasts. He didn’t even notice how the clothes came off, but there she was, naked as a child before him. Her large breasts hung heavy, inviting him to taste her. Yeshua kissed her nipples, her stomach, her belly button. He forgot all about God and his kingdom as he gently pushed her down and united with her, gasping with forgotten passion and pleasure. As if from another dimension, he heard her moan as he thrust himself into her again and again, harder and harder, until they both exploded with ecstasy. Then he lay still with his eyes closed, present in the moment.
This was paradise. This woman had appeared out of nowhere and had given him exactly what he needed: love, companionship, and understanding. What more could he ever wish for? He rolled over to rest on his side, admiring the divine being beside him. Mariamne smiled. She raised herself up on her elbow, leaned over, and kissed him with an insatiable hunger. And thus they lay kissing in the grass by the lake until the sun crept over the horizon and colored the sky the sweetest shade of gold.
Within days, everyone had noticed the intimate looks between their teacher and the young woman from Magdala. When the more conservative followers complained it was unlawful for an unmarried man to court a widow, Yeshua quieted their concerns by summoning a rabbi and marrying the woman with the deep-blue eyes.
“Be compassionate,” Yeshua reminded his students, “just as God is compassionate with you. Fear binds you to this world and makes you judge others. Compassion will set you free.”
Meanwhile, an inner circle had formed of those who genuinely understood the teachings. It had started with Yakov, Kephas, Mariamne, and Tau’ma, Yeshua’s youngest brother and so-called twin. Before long, the group included a couple of other Capernaum fishermen and their treasurer Yudah, the only Judean among them.
When Yeshua first noticed that these seven disciples spent a lot of time together, he grew curious. One night before dinner, he pulled Mariamne aside.
“What matters are you discussing? Are you studying together?”
Mariamne took his hand, as she always did when sensing he was distressed. “My master, haven’t you noticed that the harvest is colossal but the laborers are few?”
Yeshua smiled at the image.
“Kephas, Yakov, and I have spoken of ways to send more laborers into the fields.”
Yeshua nodded thoughtfully. She was right: these seven were ready. They were far better suited to spreading his words than anyone else.
The next morning, he assembled them to send them off.
“Brothers, sister, I see a grapevine has been planted outside my house, and the time has come to see if it will thrive. If it’s flawed, we will soon know, and it will be pulled up by the roots.” He laughed at his joke before he turned to kiss them, one after the other. “Go, my friends. Spread the good news.”
He watched his wife pack her belongings and get ready. It hurt to see her go, but he had no right to hold her back. She must find her own way, like the Buddha who had left his wife and child to search for enlightenment. And he belonged here, in Capernaum, with those who yearned to embrace God’s Kingdom but weren’t
yet ready to let go of the material world.
As they were leaving, Yeshua offered them a last piece of advice. “In every village, search for an honest person and ask to stay at their house. Remain there until you leave. Don’t go from house to house. As you enter, bless the house and share what you have with them. Eat and drink whatever they offer, because they have worked hard for what they serve you. But if you enter a town or a home where no one welcomes you, shake the dust from your feet and leave. Trust that your presence has already blessed them.”
Without Mariamne to distract him, Yeshua focused on those who had stayed behind. But life had lost some of its shimmer, as if the sun had disappeared and left only clouds behind. Her smooth lips and delicate touch had brightened his world. Without her, his confidence wavered. Was he wise enough to bring his listeners to a greater understanding of God? Yeshua thought of his teachers and the techniques they had used.
“If everything else fails, repeat, repeat, repeat,” Arcahia used to say. Honoring his words, Yeshua told the same parables over and over again. He planted the same seeds of knowledge day after day, hoping one day they would sprout, until he noticed hints of awakening in their eyes. His teachers had been right. He had spent too much time on the advanced students and had forgotten that even the blindest stone can grow moss if the rain continues long enough.
One day, to break up the routine, he joined a few of his fishermen disciples on their boat. Although black clouds hung threatening over the lake, the fishermen assured Yeshua there was more than enough time to go out and return to shore before the storm caught up with them.
But they had barely cast out their nets when the sky turned as dark as night and gusts of wind hurled the boat from side to side. Waves as high as a man rocked the boat up and down, so hard it almost capsized. The seasoned fishermen clung to the sides and cried out in panic, “Lord, save us! We’re all going to die.”
Yeshua hung on to the mast and shouted as loudly as he could, “Have faith! If you believe the storm will die down, it will.”
The Transmigrant Page 24