Behold the Man kg-1

by Michael John Moorcock

  "Jung knew that the myth can also create the reality."

  "Which shows what a muddled old fool he was." He stretched his legs. In doing so, he touched hers and he recoiled. He scratched his head. She still lay there smoking, but she was smiling now.

  "Come on," she said. "Let's have some stuff about Christ." He said nothing. She handed him the stub of her cigarette and he put it in the ashtray. He looked at his watch. It was two o'clock in the morning.

  "Why do we do it?" he said.

  "Because we must." She put her hand to the back of his head and pulled it towards her breast. "What else can we do?" We-Protestants must sooner or later face this question: Are we to understand the "imitation of Christ" in the sense that we should copy his life and, if I may use the expression, ape his stigmata; or in the deeper sense that we are to live our own proper lives as truly as he lived his in all its implications? It is no easy matter to live a life that is modeled on Christ's, but it is unspeakably harder to live one's own life as truly as Christ lived his. Anyone who did this would... be misjudged, derided, tortured and crucified... A neurosis is a dissociation of personality.

  (Jung; Modem Man in Search of a Soul) For a month, John the Baptist was away and Glogauer lived with the Essenes, finding it surprisingly easy, as his ribs mended, to join in their daily life. The Essenes' township consisted of a mixture of single-story houses, built of limestone and clay brick, and the caves that were to be found on both sides of the shallow valley. The Essenes shared their goods in common and this particular sect had wives, though many Essenes led completely monastic lives. The Essenes were also pacifists, refusing to own or to make weapons yet this sect plainly tolerated the warlike Baptist. Perhaps their hatred of the Romans overcame their principles. Perhaps they were not sure of John's entire intention. Whatever the reason for their toleration, there was little doubt that John the Baptist was virtually their leader.

  The life of the Essenes consisted of ritual bathing three times a day, of prayer and of work. The work was not difficult. Sometimes Glogauer guided a plough pulled by two other members of the sect; sometimes he looked after the goats that were allowed to graze on the hillsides. It was a peaceful, ordered life, and even the unhealthy aspects were so much a matter of routine that Glogauer hardly noticed them for anything else after a while.

  Tending the goats, he would lie on a hilltop, looking out over the wilderness which was not a desert, but rocky scrubland sufficient to feed animals like goats or sheep. The scrubland was broken by low-lying bushes and a few small trees growing along the banks of the river that doubtless ran into the Dead Sea. It was uneven ground. In outline, it had the appearance of a stormy lake, frozen and turned yellow and brown. Beyond the Dead Sea lay Jerusalem. Obviously Christ had not entered the city for the last time yet. John the Baptist would have to die before that happened.

  The Essenes' way of life was comfortable enough, for all its simplicity. They had given him a goatskin loincloth .and a staff and, except for the fact that he was watched by day and night, he appeared to be accepted as a kind of lay member of the sect.

  Sometimes they questioned him casually about his chariot the time machine they intended soon to bring in from the desertand he told them that it had borne him from Egypt to Syria and then to here. They accepted the miracle calmly.

  As he had suspected, they were used to miracles.

  The Essenes had seen stranger things than his time machine. They had seen men walk on water and angels descend to and from heaven; they had heard the voice of God and His archangels as well as the tempting voice of Satan and his minions. They wrote all these things down in their vellum scrolls. They were merely a record of the supernatural as their other scrolls were records of their daily lives and of the news that traveling members of their sect brought to them.

  They lived constantly in the presence of God and spoke to God and were answered by God when they had sufficiently mortified their flesh and starved themselves and chanted their prayers beneath the blazing sun of Judaea.

  Karl Glogauer grew his hair long and let his beard come unchecked. He mortified his flesh and starved himself and chanted his prayers beneath the sun, as they did. But he rarely heard God and only once thought he saw an archangel with wings of fire.

  In spite of his willingness to experience the Essenes' hallucinations, Glogauer was disappointed, but he was surprised that he felt so well considering all the self-inflicted hardships he had to undergo, and he also felt relaxed in the company of these men and women who were undoubtedly insane.

  Perhaps it was because their insanity was not so very different from his own that after a while he stopped wondering about it.

  John the Baptist returned one evening, striding over the hills followed by twenty or so of his closest disciples. Glogauer saw him as he prepared to drive the goats into their cave for the night. He waited for John to get closer.

  The Baptist's face was grim, but his expression softened as he saw Glogauer. He smiled and grasped him by the upper arm in the Roman fashion.

  "Well, Emmanuel, you are our friend, as I thought you were. Sent by Adonai to help us accomplish His will. You shall baptize me on the morrow, to show all the people that He is with us." Glogauer was tired. He had eaten very little and had spent most of the day in the sun, tending the goats. He yawned, finding it hard to reply. However, he was relieved. John had plainly been in Jerusalem trying to discover if the Romans had sent him as a spy. John now seemed reassured and trusted him.

  He was worried, however, by the Baptist's faith ill his powers.

  "John," he began. "J'm no seer..." The Baptist's face clouded for a moment, then he laughed awkwardly. "Say nothing. Eat with me tonight. I have wild-honey and locusts." Glogauer had not yet eaten this food, which was the staple of travelers who did not carry provisions but lived off the food they could find on the journey. Some regarded it as a delicacy.

  He tried it later, as he sat in John's house. There were only two rooms in the house. One was for eating in, the other for sleeping in. The honey and locusts was too sweet for his taste, but .it was a welcome change from barley or goat-meat.

  He sat cross-legged, opposite John the Baptist, who ate with relish. Night had fallen. From outside came low murmurs and the moans and cries of those at prayer.

  Glogauer dipped another locust into the bowl of honey that rested between them. "Do you plan to lead the people of Judaea in revolt against the Romans?" he asked.

  The Baptist seemed disturbed by the direct question. It was the first of its nature that Glogauer had put to him.

  "If it be Adonai's will," he said, not looking up as he leant towards the bowl of honey.

  "The Romans know this?"

  "I do not know, Emmanuel, but Herod the incestuous has doubtless told them I speak against the unrighteous."

  "Yet the Romans do not arrest you."

  "Pilate dare not since the petition was sent to the Emperor Tiberius."

  "Petition?"

  "Aye, the one that Herod and the Pharisees signed when Pilate the procurator did place votive shields in the palace at Jerusalem and seek to violate the Temple. Tiberius rebuked Pilate and since then, though he still hates the Jews, the procurator is more careful in his treatment of us."

  "Tell me, John, do you know how long Tiberius has ruled in Rome?" He had not had the chance to ask that question again until now.

  "Fourteen years." It was 28 A.D. something less than a year before the crucifixion would take place, and his time machine was smashed.

  Now John the Baptist planned armed rebellion against the occupying Romans, but, if the Gospels were to be believed, would soon be decapitated by Herod. Certainly no large-scale rebellion had taken place at this time. Even those who claimed that the entry of Jesus and his disciples into Jerusalem and the invasion of the Temple were plainly the actions of armed rebels had found no records to suggest that John had led a similar revolt.

  Glogauer had come to like the Baptist very much. The man was plainly a h
ardened revolutionary who had been planning revolt against the Romans for years and had slowly been building up enough followers to make the attempt successful. He reminded Glogauer strongly of the resistance leaders of the Second World War. He had a similar toughness and understanding of the realities of his position. He knew that he would only have one chance to smash the cohorts garrisoned in the country. If the revolt became protracted, Rome would have ample time to send more troops to Jerusalem.

  "When do you think Adonai intends to destroy the unrighteous through your agency?" Glogauer said tactfully.

  John glanced at him with some amusement. He smiled.

  "The Passover is a time when the people are restless and resent the strangers most," he said.

  "When is the next Passover?"

  "Not for many months."

  "How can I help you?"

  "You are a magus."

  "I can work no miracles." John wiped the honey from his beard. "I cannot believe that, Emmanuel. The manner of your coming was miraculous. The Essenes did not know if you were a devil or a messenger from Adonai."

  "I am neither."

  "Why do you confuse me, Emmanuel? I know that you are Adonai's messenger. You are the sign that the Essenes sought. The time is almost ready. The kingdom of heaven shall soon be established on earth. Come with me. Tell the people that you speak with Adonai's voice. Work mighty miracles."

  "Your power is waning, is that it?" Glogauer looked sharply at John. "You need me to renew your rebels' hopes?"

  "You speak-like a Roman, with such lack of subtlety." John got up angrily. Evidently, like the Essenes he lived with, he preferred less direct conversation. There was a practical reason for this, Glogauer realized, in that John and his men feared betrayal all the time. Even the Essenes' records were partially written in cipher, with one innocent seeming word or phrase meaning something else entirely.

  "I am sorry, John. But tell me if I am right." Glogauer spoke softly.

  "Are you not a magus, coming in that chariot from nowhere?" The Baptist waved his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "My men saw you! They saw the shining thing take shape in air, crack and let you enter out of it. Is that not magical? The clothing you wore was that earthly raiment? The talismans within the chariot did they not speak of powerful magic? The prophet said that a magus would come from Egypt and be called Emmanuel. So it is written in the Book of Micah! Are none of these things true?"

  "Most of them. But there are explanations" He broke off, unable to think of the nearest word to "rational."

  "I am an ordinary man, like you. I have no power to work miracles! I am just a man!" John glowered. "You mean you refuse to help us?"

  "I'm grateful to you and the Essenes. You saved my life almost certainly. If I can repay that..." John nodded his head deliberately. "You can repay it, Emmanuel."

  "How?"

  "Be the great magus I need. Let me present you to all those who become impatient and would turn away from Adonai's will. Let me tell them the manner of your coming to us. Then you can say that all is Adonai's will and that they must prepare to accomplish it." John stared at him intensely.

  "Will you, Emmanuel?"

  "For your sake, John. And in turn, will you send men to bring my chariot here as soon as possible? I wish to see if it may be mended."

  "I will." Glogauer felt exhilarated. He began to laugh. The Baptist looked at him with slight bewilderment. Then he began to join in.

  Glogauer laughed on. History would not mention it, but he, with John the Baptist, would prepare the way for Christ.

  Christ was not born yet. Perhaps Glogauer knew it, one year before the crucifixion.

  And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father), full of grace and truth. John bare witness of him, and cried, saying. This was he of whom I spoke, He that cometh after me is preferred before me; for he was before me.

  (John 1:14-15)

  III

  Even when he had first met Monica they had had long arguments. His father had not then died and left him the money to buy the Occult Bookshop in Great Russell Street, opposite the British Museum. He was doing all sorts of temporary work and his spirits were very low. At that time Monica had seemed a great help, a great guide through the mental darkness engulfing him. They had both lived close to Holland Park and went there for walks almost every Sunday of the summer of 1962. At twenty-two, he was already obsessed with Jung's strange brand of Christian mysticism.

  She, who despised Jung, had soon begun to denigrate all his ideas. She never really convinced him. But, after a while, she OQ had succeeded in confusing him. It would be another six months before they went to bed together.

  It was uncomfortably hot.

  They sat in the shade of the cafeteria, watching a distant i cricket match. Nearer to them, two girls and a boy sat on the grass, drinking orange squash from plastic cups. One of the girls had a guitar across her lap and she set the cup down and began to play, singing a folksong in a high, gentle voice. Glogauer tried to listen to the words. As a student, he had always liked traditional folk music.

  "Christianity is dead." Monica sipped her tea. "Religion is dying. God was killed in 1945."

  "There may yet be a resurrection," he said.

  "Let us hope not. Religion was the creation of fear.

  Knowledge destroys fear. Without fear, religion can't survive."

  "You think there's no fear about these days?"

  "Not the same kind, Karl."

  "Haven't you ever considered the idea of Christ?" he asked her, changing his tack. "What that means to Christians?"

  "The idea of the tractor means as much to a Marxist," she replied.

  "But what came first? The idea or the actuality of Christ?" She shrugged. "The actuality, if it matters. Jesus was a Jewish troublemaker organizing a revolt against the Romans.

  He was crucified for his pains. That's all we know and all we need to know."

  "A great religion couldn't have begun so simply."

  "When people need one, they'll make a great religion out of the most unlikely beginnings."

  "That's my point, Monica." He gesticulated at her and she drew away slightly. "The idea preceded the actuality of Christ."

  "Oh, Karl, don't go on. The actuality of Jesus preceded the idea of Christ." A couple walked past, glancing at them as they argued.

  Monica noticed them and fell silent. She got up and he rose as well, but she shook her head. "I'm going home, Karl.

  You stay here. I'll see you in a few days." He watched her walk down the wide path towards the park gates.

  The next day, when he got home from work, he found a letter. She must have written it after she had left him and posted it the same day.

  Dear Karl, Conversation doesn't seem to have much effect on you, you know. It's as if you listen to the tone of the voice, the rhythm of the words, without ever hearing what is trying to be communicated. You're a bit like a sensitive animal who can't understand what's being said to it, but can tell if the person talking is pleased or angry and so on. That's why I'm writing to you to try to get my idea across. You respond too emotionally when we're together.

  You make the mistake of considering Christianity as something that developed over the course of a few years, from the death of Jesus to the time the Gospels were written. But Christianity wasn't new. Only the name was new. Christianity was merely a stage in the meeting, cross-fertilization metamorphosis of Western logic and Eastern mysticism. Look how the religion itself changed over the centuries, re-interpreting itself to meet changing times. Christianity is just a new name for a conglomeration of old myths and philosophies. All the Gospels do is retell the sun myth and garble some of the ideas from the Greeks and Romans. Even in the second century, Jewish scholars were showing it up for the mish-mash it was! They pointed out the strong similarities between the various sun myths and the Christ myth. The miracles didn't happen they were invented later, borrowed from here a
nd there.

  Remember the old Victorians who used to say that Plato was really a Christian because he anticipated Christian thought? Christian thought! Christianity was a vehicle for ideas in circulation for centuries before Christ. Was Marcus Aurelius a Christian? He was writing in the direct tradition of Western philosophy. That's why Christianity caught on in Europe and not in the East! You should have been a theologian with your bias, not a psychiatrist. The same goes for your friend Jung.

  Try to clear your head of all this morbid nonsense and you'll be a lot better at your job.

  Yours, Monica.

  He screwed the letter up and threw it away. Later that evening he was tempted to look at it again, but he resisted the temptation.

  IU John stood up to his waist in the river. Most of the Essenes stood on the banks watching him. Glogauer looked down at him.

  "I cannot, John. It is not for me to do it." The Baptist muttered, "You must." Glogauer shivered as he lowered himself into the river beside the Baptist. He felt light-headed. He stood there trembling, unable to move.

  His foot slipped on the rocks of the river and John reached out and gripped his arm, steadying him.

  In the clear sky, the sun was at zenith, beating down on his unprotected head.

  "Emmanuel!" John cried suddenly. "The spirit of Adonai is within you!" Glogauer still found it hard to speak. He shook his head slightly. It was aching and he could hardly see. Today he was having his first migraine attack since he had come here.

  He wanted to vomit. John's voice sounded distant.

  He swayed in the water.

  As he began to fall toward the Baptist, the whole scene around him shimmered. He felt John catch him and heard himself say desperately: "John, baptize me!" And then there was water in his mouth and throat and he was coughing.

  John's voice was crying something. Whatever the words were, they drew a response from the people on both banks.

  The roaring in his ears increased, its quality changing. He thrashed in the water, then felt himself lifted to his feet.

  "The Essenes were swaying in unison, every face lifted upwards towards the glaring sun.