In the cool of the inner court of the house, she sat beside him with her heart running rings and waited for his questing soul to open its doors to her, as she had opened her soul to him. But when finally he spoke it was not of intimate things but of the destiny of men.
He told her that in the beginning, humanity was like a child, it crawled and walked and learnt and came of age. Now it was grown old and entering into decline. He had seen it clearly from his twelfth birthday.
‘Before that, I remember only dreams…grass and sky and rain and the smell of sheep…’ he said to her, ‘I remember my mother’s heart too, in my ear, and the whispers of angels…’
She nodded, remembering that many had shunned him for being addled.
‘But on the steps of the Temple a bewildering happening took place which I didn’t understand at first. Afterwards, I lost my mother and my life changed. My eyes lost their ability to see the dream-full spaces of heaven, since everything became sharp-shaped and clear to them. I began to forget all that was spontaneous and pure, and from that moment, in forgetting, I began to remember and to accustom myself to looking with different eyes…with the eyes of wisdom…eyes that were not mine.’ He looked at her. ‘What I saw caused such loneliness in me! Ah, my mother! If only you knew! That is why I fell into silence and could barely speak for the pain of it! During my stays with my teachers in Jerusalem, I saw and heard the decadence of their teaching, how it had lost its life, how it was no longer given out of direct knowledge. I realised with sorrow that if the prophets came again, no man would understand them!’
‘Oh, Jesus!’ a sob was caught in her throat for his words. ‘How your sensitive soul has struggled! But think of Hillel, my son! He was a great teacher of the law! In my time, he spoke with a voice so sure and powerful. Could such a man not recognise the voice of the prophets if they were to return again?’
Jesus’ face, lit meagrely by the penumbral light, was gravely cast. He said, ‘Hillel was wise, it is true…but there are no more Hillels!’
With these words, a coldness settled over her and she pulled her shawl over her head and hugged herself to keep from shaking. ‘How can this be true?’
He recounted his journey to the pagan lands and spoke to her for the first time of the downfall of their temples. He told her of his experience at the altar, where he had fallen as though dead, and where he had heard the Bath-Kol in all its terrible splendour. After that, he recounted his experiences with the Essenes and his disappointment with their ways, and he told her of his meeting with the being called Buddha.
‘I am alone!’ he said to her, ‘There is nowhere left to turn! This has been my last realisation. All has fallen into decadence and there is no truth left in the world. No light of hope can brighten the darkness that lies ahead! I have seen the portent of humanity’s future suffering and the destruction of the world!’
She stifled a sob with her hand, for the entire burden of Jesus’ sorrow had moved into her on the wings of his words, and they had formed in her mind a vision of what he had seen with his eyes, an entire panorama of calumny and misfortune. Mariam’s hands and arms lost their strength.
‘What will you do?’ she asked him.
‘There is a man in Judea who baptises with water for the remission of sins. He announces the coming of the Messiah, who will bring youth to the soul of the world.’ He looked at her, to cause the meaning of it to arise in her, ‘This Messiah will speak forth the voice of God and reverse the words of the Bath-Kol to unite us with what we have lost.’
‘What are these words that you speak of, my son?’ she asked.
‘Aum, the evils hold sway…’
When he had finished, Mariam sat still, listening for the resounding of those words in her soul.
Jesus’ eyes grew distant. ‘It is time.’
She looked at him, attentive now. ‘Time for what, Jesus, what?’
But as she spoke she did not see Jesus, she saw Yeshua! The eyes of her soul were opened to what she had always sensed with her heart! Jesus’ words to her those years ago now made sense:
‘God can make two into one, if it serves his design.’
She understood now! Yeshua had accomplished his task after all! Long ago, on those Temple steps, he had become one with Jesus! That is why Jesus had begun to see with different eyes, why he could argue with the rabbis, why he seemed like two men, one serious and wise, and the other playful and loving. That is why she had seen her son in him!
So this had been Yeshua’s task - to weave his wisdom into Jesus’ loving soul! His selfless task was accomplished!
What now?
Jesus made to stand. His face was framed by the dark sky full of stars and she remembered two boys sitting beneath a fig tree, arm in arm, two boys who many years ago had left their mothers to ascend the Temple steps in the broad light of a sun-full day.
They gave her one last glance now over their shoulders, and left to make their way into the night. With her heart near breaking, she watched them go, for the third time.
26
FISH AND FISHERMEN
Simon was a fisherman and he lived in a city on the ancient trade route called the Via Maris. Here, on the northwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee stood a city called Beth-saida, meaning House of the Fishes. It was so called because seven springs flowed into the waters of Galilee at this point, attracting fish and creating a lucrative trade for those who did not mind hard work.
The Sea of Galilee was little affected by tide, so its waters were profoundly clear and for this reason the best fishing was not conducted in the day, but after sunset.
Each night Simon and his brother Andrew would rise from their beds, take a meal, and walk the dark path from their modest home near the eucalyptus forest to the shores of the inland sea where waited those who worked with them in the cooperative: Philip, and Zebedee and his two sons, James and John.
In conditions favourable or unfavourable the fishermen would set off on their boats, travelling by the light of flares made from oily rags which were kept in iron cages suspended from their bows. They journeyed forth into the sea’s wide expanse with the air in their lateen sails, heading for the deeps and the best catch. Here the weighted trammel nets were thrown between the boats to encircle the fish. A great number of fish of every size and quality could be ensnared this way and when the nets were full the men would drag them to the shore and pull them onto the sand to sort the clean fish from those that were deemed unclean.
Backwards and forwards from the sea to the shore the boats came and went through the night until the full-bodied baskets were brimming with fresh catch and the sun’s pink herald stained the margins of the mountains.
At sunrise came the townsfolk and merchants to buy fish. When all was sold and the crowds were gone, the daily work truly began for the men had many tasks yet: picking off the weed and dead creatures of the sea that had become entangled in the nets, repairing any tears, sorting the hooks and lines, liming the hulls of the boats and mending the sails.
These moments made ample time for conversation and companionship and the men spoke as they worked.
Simon was slow to speak, but in his mind he thought much. While the others talked he listened to their words and thought his own thoughts, for when they spoke of fish, and sky, and lake, they spoke as any man might. But Simon saw other things.
He saw the interplay of the sun’s gold-shimmer with the lake’s smooth surface; he saw the dance of the dark water with the moon’s lustre and the interaction of mountain and plain, lightning and earth. He saw the sea transform itself before his eyes into a celestial womb that was fertilised by the light of the sun. For what is a fish if not a drop of sun gleaming beneath the surface of the water? And what is a man, if not a drop of the eternal, a collection of sunbeams gathered up and born into the passing moment of life’s stream?
These, he knew, were strange thoughts and philosophies and so he did not speak them out loud but only thought them and he was thinking them this day as h
e knotted a rope, when James tore him from his ruminations.
‘In the market this morning the people spoke of the pascha and their journey to Judea with such excitement,’ he said, ‘I wish that I could go!’
Andrew, Simon’s brother, looked up from his work and said, ‘Don’t waste your wishes! They say the airs of Judea are full of death and that the rocks have a magic in them that can send a man mad.’
Of all the men gathered together on the sandy beach, Philip was the only one to have been to Jerusalem and he raised his dark head from his work with an air of wisdom. ‘Nonsense! I have been there, and I am not dead or mad! But it is true, the land is like stale bread gone hard…the people are hard also…and when the rabbis speak, their voices are like a cold wind.’
‘How do they speak?’ said young John, leaving his liming to listen.
‘With words like pointed arrows that pierce the head!’ Philip said sourly.
‘Ah, but your head is soft, Philip!’ Andrew said, merrily. ‘It wouldn’t take much to pierce it!’
All around there were smiles and soft chuckles.
James did not laugh or smile. He seemed despondent for it, and spoke almost to himself, ‘We should not speak disapprovingly of the priests!’ He cut a length of rope with his teeth. ‘They are closer to heaven you know…closer at least than we are, it stands to reason that we don’t understand them.’
Andrew cocked his head to one side. He had not heard well in one ear from childhood, having sustained a beating from his father for his impertinence. Now he shook his head and said to his brother, ‘What did he say?’
Simon, whose task was to always repeat everything, sighed with impatience. ‘He says we should mind the priests, for they are closer to God.’
Andrew nodded gravely. ‘And James is right, they are closer to heaven…but only because you are too down to earth, Philip!’
They laughed like anything.
Little John of Zebedee said, between giggles, ‘And you…are down to earth…because you are so short!’
Philip was put out. Feeling himself abused he continued his work of liming the hull of the boat in a bruised silence.
‘Still,’ Andrew put in, ‘when the rabbi at our synagogue speaks, and his cold words gush out about the Messiah, my eyes almost see his words as fish, dropping from his lips!’
More laughs made Simon, who had listened to all of it, scratch at his greying beard. He decided to add wisdom to this foolishness.
‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that when the Messiah comes he won’t pass his days in Jerusalem among the proud priests and the law abiding Pharisees…he won’t answer to the rabbis, even in our synagogues. Perhaps he will come to sit here among us, where the sun marries the lake!’ He looked about him, at the incredulous faces. ‘Why not, you fools? Why would he not come to speak to those of ordinary expression and vocation, who are more likely to hear him and to love him?’
James threw him a sceptical eye. ‘What? You think he’ll come to stinking fishermen, to spend his time among fish guts and scales and turn away a life among the rich, with fine wines and good food?’ He shook his head. ‘Your head has seen too much sun, Simon! No…it is my guess, he shall do as all kings do!’
Simon tilted his head up, until it seemed as if his beard would near touch the sky. ‘Who can tell?’ he said, ‘Why should he be a king? Are we not told to expect a king and a priest, like two fish that move in different directions? One swims upwards, like this, to the heavens, while the other swims downwards, like this, to the earth? Don’t we have two eyes, two ears, two arms and two legs? With only one of each we should not see our fish, or make many steps on the ground, or steady ourselves on our boats or pull up our nets!’
Philip nodded, considering. ‘Think of it James! You are elevated to spiritual thoughts, when you are in the synagogue on the Sabbath, but the next day your mind turns only upon how much money you can make for your old father! You are also two men!’
These words made them all laugh again, even James, who recognised their truth.
Simon was made full of confidence by this support. ‘We are like fish ourselves! But we are also fishermen! Why should the Messiah not be like a fish, and also a fisherman?’ he ended with a slap on the knee, pleased with himself.
All could see that this was a fine comparison.
James sat forward, with a certain fear in his eye. ‘Lads! Lower your voices! What if this is blasphemy, to speak of fish and men?’
Simon dismissed it with a hand. ‘Glory be to God, James! Do the prophets not always speak of fish, and draw a line from them to men? Ezra and Habakkuk speak of fish, no one accuses the prophets of blasphemy!’ he said loudly, having lost his temper with himself for speaking out his philosophy and inviting ridicule. He put his head down and continued with knotting his rope, now in a dark mood.
Philip, having recovered from laughter, said to him, ‘Oh Simon, son of Jonah! One would think your father, was that same prophet who was spat out by a whale! You think too much of fish! And you think too much of fishermen!’
‘The Essenes spare fish,’ young John put in, ‘for they revere them.’
‘What did he say?’ Andrew asked.
‘He said the Essenes don’t eat fish!’ Simon answered.
Andrew nodded, ‘Yes, the boy is right, they don’t, and it’s a good thing there aren’t many of them, or else we would have no trade.’
Philip was not listening. His hand was raised high in the air, while the rest of him was stock-still. ‘Wait!’ he said, ‘I remember something…a short time ago I overheard a customer speak of a man who is not an Essene but who speaks with their words. He baptises in the Jordan for the remission of sins. I remember it only now!’ He looked at them with wide eyes. ‘This man says that because fish do not breathe air they are pure. He says that men must change their breathing, they must repent their sins and become like fish. And they must rise up out of the water and ready their hearts for the coming of the Messiah!’
The men traded astonished looks, and it seemed to Simon that their eyes were shaking off a sluggish indolence.
‘There, you see?’ Simon said, vindicated. He put down his rope and stood. ‘What’s his name?’
‘John the Baptiser,’ Philip told him.
Simon nodded. ‘John the Baptiser,’ he said, rubbing his speckled beard, ‘John the Baptiser!’ he said it again, as if contriving to make that name fit a shape held in his mind. ‘This is a sign!’ he said finally. ‘We must go and hear this man speak, this John the Baptiser, for it seems that he speaks true.’
Young John paused his liming. ‘I will come!’
Andrew frowned his annoyance at the boy, ‘That is because you do not like liming boats, that you will go!’
John smiled in answer.
‘But what of your precious fish, Simon?’ James said, half in jest and half in seriousness. ‘Will we leave them uncaught in the sea? What of my father’s livelihood?’
‘Yes…old Zebedee will curse us! After all, who will take care of the nets and the boats?’ Philip added.
‘What of the customers and the merchants that come from every place?’ Andrew threw in.
Simon paused to look out at the sea’s glimmer skipping over the calm lapping of the waves and made his resolve.
‘These things shall take care of themselves.’
‘But shall we leave our homes, our wives and families and the sea, to become homeless men?’ James said to him. ‘Well, for my part, I say this will come to no good!’
‘Why should we not become homeless men for a time, James? Look at us, we do this stinking work, day in and day out, is there not more to be known in the world, than the beauty of this sea and the smell of fish? Are we always to remain like children who are three years old and lulled by a song?’
Philip thought this through. ‘For my part lads, I have always been of the mind to trust Simon. He has a good sense for things, but this…I don’t know. This is something new.’
Andrew
made a sigh. ‘We have always listened to your good counsel, Simon.’
‘Yes,’ added young John, ‘he always knows where to cast the nets, so that we do not go hungry like other fishermen.’
James looked around him, incredulous. ‘And all of you suppose that we should go then and leave everything behind?’
The men looked at one another, as if contemplating a lunacy that confounded human explanation, and yet a lunacy full of logic to their minds.
James nodded then smiled and rubbed his beard. ‘Well, I am outnumbered it seems, perhaps all will be well for a day or two.’
The five men now looked to Simon.
Simon nodded. ‘We go then.’
And they resolved to make their preparations.
27
THE ISRAELITE
At the same moment that Simon in Galilee was making his resolve to go in search of John the Baptist, in Jerusalem, a Pharisee called Nicodemus, sat in the judgement hall of the Temple among those who were gathered to judge the Baptiser.
While the priests of the Sanhedrin conducted the various opening formulas, Nicodemus looked about the vast hall.
It was made in a long rectangle created out of great slabs of stone, with round stone pillars supporting a lofty ceiling. In between these pillars, upon stone benches, were seated the Levites, scribes and shorthand note takers. At the front of the great hall upon a dais sat a semi circle of judges. They faced the middle of the hall and the laity, which on this day could not be contained and was spilling out of the oaken doors to the terrace beyond.
The Great Sanhedrin was indeed the highest tribunal of the land and was made up of seventy-one members. Nicodemus had always felt very fortunate to be counted among them and to be called an Israelite, a representative of Israel. In truth, every Jew was united by a common memory through the blood of Abraham. In this blood was imprinted all the abilities and disabilities of their people all the laws and transgressions, even the air, the sky, and the soil of the Promised Land! Because of this, all Jews could say ‘we’.
Fifth Gospel: A Novel (Rosicrucian Quartet) Paperback Page 16