Everyone had relaxed after the long day and the disturbances in the temple. Some had fallen asleep. His brothers Yakov and Tau’ma were making up silly songs like Abba used to. Others were discussing how to win an argument with a temple priest. Andreas and Yohannah had stolen away, hand in hand. And why not? They also deserved happiness.
“Isn’t the magic of love delightful?” Yeshua whispered to Mariamne. His fingers traced her face as she nibbled on a fig. “Without love, the world wouldn’t exist. Just think of the power of intercourse…”
She blushed and covered her face with her shawl, giggling. Yeshua drew her close and kissed her. “My love. My dearest love.”
He took her hand and led her away from the others, down a path away from the village and out of sight of the Roman soldiers. She didn’t resist. In the darkness, they found a cluster of blossoming almond trees and lay down underneath them. Yeshua caressed her hair and kissed the tip of her nose. She closed her eyes. He slid his hand under her tunic and studied her face. Mariamne’s smile betrayed her; she wanted to be taken. Yeshua caressed every inch of the body he knew so well. She quivered and moaned at the touch of his fingers. Gently, he pulled her tunic over her head, trembling at the perfection of her body. She lay on the ground, as God had created her, legs spread, waiting for him. But he didn’t want to hurry. He licked her toes, the soles of her feet, gliding his tongue up first one leg, then the other, and tracing the valley from her navel to her neck. He sucked her fingers, one by one, and kissed her palms. She shuddered, unable to contain her pleasure.
At last Yeshua touched his lips to hers and explored her mouth with his tongue. As she kissed him back, he raised his tunic and lowered himself into her. He moved slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his body to hers, entering deeper and deeper. With a surprised gasp, he climaxed too soon. He hardly dared to meet her eyes, afraid she would be disappointed. But her satisfied expression reassured him.
Lying side by side in the afterglow, they watched the pale moon peek out from behind silvery clouds. It was now or never. He had to tell her. Yeshua drew a deep breath.
“Mariamne. Love.”
She turned to him, smiling, but when she saw the serious look on his face, her smile faded.
“I must leave.”
She turned her head away. “I know.”
“Come with me. We can go anywhere. To Alexandria, or perhaps east. We can stay with my friend Dhiman in Sindh, or with the monks in Kapilavatthu. We can raise a family, have babies: a little baby Yeshua and a baby Mariamne.”
She took a breath and slowly let it out.
“We can be safe.”
She turned back to look at him, her large eyes flushed with sadness. “Can we?”
He gasped with pain, as if someone had torn his heart out. Yeshua pulled her close. “Of course we can. I love you, Mariamne, more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. I need you by my side. We can teach together, be happy wherever we go.”
Mariamne shook her head. “Forgive me, but I can’t.”
“Why not?” The words came out with more force than he had intended. He didn’t want to continue alone. He was tired of being lonely. If Mariamne wouldn’t come with him, he might as well stay.
“The women here need me. They look up to me. Because of you, I give them hope. They wouldn’t go on teaching without you, especially Yohannah. And the others, the men—they don’t respect me, don’t respect women. Some even curse behind your back because you treat me as their equal.” She held his hand to her heart. “My dearest love, you mean everything to me. You are my world. But I must stay here for the women.”
For a moment, Yeshua cursed himself for having taught her so well. He always said that everyone was equally worthy: men and women, rich and poor, educated or ignorant, sinners or believers. And she was right: the women of Palestine needed her more than he did. But that didn’t make it easier. His love for Mariamne made him suffer. He needed her, couldn’t imagine life without her, but he had no right to hold her back. He had to let her go her own way.
Was he prepared to start over again? Walk from village to village, give lessons and gather a new group of followers? He was tired. He didn’t want to start over. He looked up at the glittering stars and the full moon that had once again emerged from the clouds. Could he run from his problems, or would he encounter the same resistance wherever he went? And what if he stayed put and let fate run its course? There was comfort in the thought. If the Romans arrested and killed him, he would simply move to another dimension.
His heart filled with a strange peace as he watched Mariamne’s lovely face, asleep on his arm. That’s what he would do. He would welcome death. And, from the other side, he would prove once and for all that life in this world was an illusion, that life continued, even without a body.
He kissed Mariamne’s hair and covered her naked body with his tunic. She was right. She belonged here.
Chapter Thirty-FIVE
Jerusalem, Judea, AD 30
The next day at the temple, thousands of people gathered in preparation for Pesach. The courtyard that had been half empty only a day earlier swarmed with worshippers from Palestine, Babylon, and Alexandria, even as far as Britannia. Yeshua looked at the faces of the men and women seated around him. They all had placed their faith in his message.
“Let no one tell you that one person is more important than another,” he began, nodding toward the Sadducee priests who walked around the Court of the Gentiles, blessing pilgrims with words from the Torah. “They view themselves as higher beings, and believe they are the only ones who can communicate with God.” Yeshua shook his head with compassion. “They are caught in the illusion of the physical world. They have forgotten that we can all become ‘higher’ by entering the room inside our hearts and speaking to our Father who lives in that sacred space within us.”
People who had heard Yeshua speak on previous days took a seat among the disciples. Others, too, drew closer to catch a word or two from the Galilean preacher.
“God’s light shines in every man and woman, a light so bright it illuminates the entire world. Connect with the light inside you, sense its power, because only then can you reach absolute peace. Those who won’t allow the light to shine from within will always live in darkness. Whoever has ears will hear me.”
Yeshua mused at the glow radiating from his listeners.
“Some of you may wonder what this light looks like. The truth is, you will never see God’s light with your eyes. The light that illuminates us can be seen only with our souls. But if we allow the physical world to seduce us, we will never become one with the light.”
A couple of temple priests drew nearer, shaking their staffs at him in warning. Yeshua kept an eye on them but continued speaking. His message was too important to silence. He had to reach as many people as possible and teach them to trust their inner voice.
“Always be kind to others. Never cause anyone grief, no matter if they are important or meek, sinner or believer.”
One of the priests was now standing right behind him, but Yeshua held steadfast and kept going. People needed to hear this.
“Help those in need, not only the ones who can repay you. The wealthy may threaten you and demand that you give them everything you own, but you must resist them. Instead, give to the most deserving, even if it infuriates the greedy.”
Another priest now joined the other. Yeshua’s heart beat so hard, he could barely steady his voice.
“Knowledge is freedom. Don’t be a slave to ignorance, because only truth can set you free. If we recognize what is genuine, the seed of truth will grow within us and bring us fulfillment.”
One of the priests put his hand on Yeshua’s shoulder. “The high priest wants to see you.”
Yeshua didn’t turn around. He kept his gaze on his listeners.
“Caiaphas can wait. I’ve come to deliver my Father’s message to these thirsty men and women. If Caiaphas is thirsty, I will certainly bring the jar of knowledge to him. Bu
t later, once I’ve shared it with these humble people before me.”
“Thirsty? Are you out of your mind?” One of the priests lifted his staff to strike, but the other pulled his hand down. Yeshua relaxed. It would be foolish for them to attack him in front of a crowd.
“I plead with you—cease the sacrifice of animals,” he continued, looking at his listeners but addressing the priests. “God wants mercy, not suffering. If you understand what this means, you will no longer condemn innocent creatures to die for your sins or for food. It’s written in the scriptures: God provided us with every plant upon the face of the earth. We shall have them for food, and let the animals live.”
The priests walked away, their heads close together, conferring.
Yeshua watched them go. So the rumors were true: Caiaphas had heard about him. That couldn’t be good. The high priest was known as the self-adoring ruler of the Yehudi supreme council, the Sanhedrin, and a pawn of the prefect Pontius Pilatus. It was common knowledge that the Yehudi authorities and Roman rulers helped each other stay in power. If one side of the scales tipped, the other, too, would lose its balance.
Yeshua swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Perhaps he should have humbled himself before the priests. But his message was important. And if he couldn’t stand up to the priests, how could the newly awakened be expected to have courage?
The crowd before him grew restless, eager for more kernels of wisdom. Yeshua took a deep breath to calm his nerves and mentally shook the worries away. He had to finish what he had been called to do. No matter what tomorrow brought, the people deserved to hear the truth.
As the sun began to set, Yeshua ended the lesson. The priests had swarmed in and out of the crowd all day to eavesdrop, but hadn’t approached him again. Their dark spirits hung like heavy fog among the enlightened souls. Yeshua knew to expect the worst. He had faced disapproval before. But in Benares he had been more of an annoyance, not an actual threat to the Brahmins’ power. And once he had left, they had not pursued him. Here, hundreds of men and women had gathered to hear him speak, and there was no place to hide. The priests were furious. If he didn’t stop speaking, they would make him. He should have left last night. But he didn’t want to leave. He belonged here among his disciples, his successors, who would take over and spread the good news to as many as possible after he no longer could. He had to stay here until the end, if only to prove that life continued even after death.
Yeshua asked Yakov and Kephas to accompany the women to prepare the evening meal at the home of a local merchant who had invited them to his house. It would be a perfect setting for the traditional meal on the eve of Pesach: festive, yet private.
When they had left, Yeshua called Yudah, his bravest companion, to walk with him in the gardens of Gethsemane at the foot of the temple mount. They strolled side by side in silence while Yeshua gathered the courage to ask his friend for an impossible favor. A warm wind tousled his hair, and in the distance, the voices of drunken Roman soldiers broke the peace of the quiet evening. The soldiers had been called to Jerusalem to keep the peace while thousands gathered here for the holiday. Yeshua put his arm around his beloved disciple.
“Yudah, you have learned well about the mysteries of God’s Kingdom, have you not?”
His friend nodded thoughtfully.
“And you understand that to reach salvation, you must deny the material world and the body that binds us to it.”
“Of course, Master.”
“Please don’t call me—” Yeshua stopped in midsentence and chuckled. “You have learned well.”
They continued walking in silence, stopping only here and there to smell the fragrant blossoms of the olive trees.
“My time here is done, Yudah. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m afraid I have become a symbol for change in Palestine that neither the Romans nor the priests can accept. The Romans think we’re another group of rebels trying to overturn their power. And the priests are afraid of losing their privileges with the Romans.”
Yudah’s hand went to the dagger at his belt. Yeshua exhaled with a mix of relief and sadness; he had chosen the right man for the job. Yudah was as brave as he was wise. He wouldn’t let him down.
“My message is lost on them. They view me as another ignorant Galilean stirring up trouble. They don’t realize that we are all on God’s side, and that it’s not me, but my message, that will bring change. When I’m gone, you and the others will continue to spread the good news. I’m but one of a thousand. You and I are just two out of ten thousand. But if you all stand together as one, like a castle built on a mountain and fortified by a strong wall, you cannot fall.”
Yudah stopped walking and turned to him. “Where are you going?” His eyes teared up. “Master, I had a dream—”
Yeshua took Yudah’s hand.
“I dreamed that the other disciples stoned me. Persecuted me. Hated me. They said I had killed you. But I could never harm you.”
Yeshua’s heart grew cold. Perhaps he was asking for too much. “Come,” he said. “I will show you what needs to be done.”
He pointed at the Roman soldiers idling by the garden entrance. “Look. They’re watching me. They’re afraid I’m some rebel who will cause an uprising. And they fear that if Caiaphas can’t keep the Yehudim under control, the Romans may lose their power over the people.”
“What do you want me to do?” Yudah asked.
“If they come for me, if they decide to arrest me, this is what you must do.” Yeshua explained his plan.
After a warm embrace, he held Yudah at arm’s length before him.
“I know what I’m asking isn’t fair. But it will be an act of God. For God. My message has been lost. You call me Master, the Son of God, but I am a son of man, like everyone else. You raise me above yourselves when all I want is to show you how to enter God’s Kingdom. And only by dying can I prove that this world is not real. I want everyone to understand that this world is nothing but a corpse, and that life is God’s Kingdom, which resides within each of us. When I leave this world, you will all understand. Please help me. I’m afraid that if I don’t surrender myself, you will all be arrested and tortured. And Tau’ma, my dear, sweet brother—people will think he is me. And he is innocent. You are all innocent.”
Tears streamed down Yudah’s face. He slumped against the garden wall. Yeshua reached for his hand. “Don’t despair, my dear friend. Fortunate is the man who knows when the enemy will enter so he may stand up, muster his courage, and arm himself before they invade.”
Two dozen of Yeshua’s closest disciples congregated to celebrate the Eve of Pesach in a spacious dinner hall with marble floors and high ceilings. The women had arranged low tables in a long line, decorated them with spring flowers, and puffed up silk cushions all around. Yeshua took a seat at the end of the long table, between Tau’ma and Mariamne, and rested his hand on his wife’s lap. The women served platters of vegetable stew, carrot and leek salad, and stuffed dates. And then Yakov blessed the pomegranate juice in place of wine, which they had sworn off at initiation. They ate in silence, mindful of every bite.
When everyone had finished their meal and pushed the platters away, the room filled with laughter and song. Only Yudah sat quietly at the table, watching his teacher, his eyes laden with sadness.
Yeshua lifted his cup to signal he wanted to speak. The room stilled as his disciples turned their attention to him.
“My dearest friends, thank you for joining me, in days of feasts as well as days of starvation. Words cannot describe how much I love you—each one of you—and how blessed I am that you have chosen to walk this path with me. Wherever you go, never forget to love your brother and sister as you love yourself. Care for each other like the pupil of your own eye. Because we are reflections of one another. We are all one.”
His companions beamed with joy as they lifted their cups to cheer him.
“Remember my words and everything I have taught you. Because when one of you betra
ys me—”
“Master, surely you don’t mean me,” his nephew Taddai blurted out.
The others looked around the room in confusion, searching the faces of their companions.
“It won’t be me. I love you so.”
“Or me. I could never…”
Yudah hung his head.
“None of us would ever betray you.”
Yeshua forced a smile. “When one of you, someone who is dipping his bread in this stew, betrays me, remember to forgive him, because God’s will has been done.”
The disciples, Yudah included, looked from one to the other with horror and disbelief.
“Why would any one of us do something like that?” Tau’ma asked.
Yeshua shuddered at the worry in his youngest brother’s eyes—his reflection. How could he explain? He stared at the juice in his cup, took a sip, and scanned the faces of his companions.
“Why? Well, tell me, Tau’ma—and Yakov, Kephas—everyone, compare me to someone and tell me who I’m like.”
Kephas stretched his hands toward Yeshua. “You’re like an angel. A righteous angel, an angel of the Lord.”
Everyone laughed. Yeshua laughed, too, but shook his head.
“You’re like a wise philosopher,” another suggested.
Yeshua smiled, but again shook his head.
“Master,” Tau’ma said in his most tender voice. “My brother, you’re all that. But you are not like anyone else.”
Yeshua leaned over and kissed his brother’s forehead. He looked around the room, from one of his companions to the next. “Whoever I may be, I am not your master. The time has come and you must remember everything I’ve taught you, because from now on, you are the masters.”
The Transmigrant Page 27