The Gospel According to the Son Page 4

  He was telling me of a life to come. It would be bountiful. "All is mine!" cried Satan aloud.

  Indeed, greed was godly to him. Out of crude greed would come works of great power. "Those who have loyalty to me," said the Devil, "sit now upon the earth with such command that they never give vent to those little turds, fit only for a goat, that pinch themselves forth from the bony cheeks of your friend John. Why, he will not even shit on the Sabbath! And on other days he carries a small hoe to cover his leavings."

  And I, in this same moment, wondered whether I could leap but not fall. Could I fly with angels? By power given to me by the Lord, could I fly?

  Could I know? Satan stood between my Father and me. Did he have the power to deny the wings of the angel? I did not jump. I wanted to, but I did not dare. To myself I said, "I will not serve God as a brave son but as a modest one." That was just. Had I not spent more than half my life working carefully with many small movements, equal to equal, with the small mysteries of wood?

  And now I had an inkling of why God had chosen Mary and Joseph to be my family. I said, "Get thee hence, Satan." If my voice was weak, I repeated it: "Get thee hence, Satan," and now my voice had more force. It was ready to draw upon the strength that comes from emptiness. And I saw the wisdom of the Lord. For even in fasting is strength, and that was the greatest strength one could bring to bear against the Devil inasmuch as he hated emptiness. Who is more lonely than the Devil? I had the power at last to look into Satan's eyes and say: "It is not you I want. It is my Father." Even as I said this, I knew a small but sharp woe. I was losing something I desired, and I was losing it forever.

  But Satan gave a cry like a beast just wounded by the spear. "Your Father," he cried, "will destroy His own Creation. For too little!" And he departed. And I was left with a vision of angels. They gathered about me to bathe my eyes. I slept. Never before had I known such exhaustion.

  In the morning I awoke to see myself on this same mountain where I had lived for forty days. Now I was ready to come down. The road to Nazareth would be long and empty. Yet for the next day and the next, no brigands attacked. Which was just as well. My hour with the Devil had left me spent. My breath was foul. Nor did I feel that I had escaped altogether.

  I was, however, not distraught. For as I marched, so could I recite the words of Isaiah: " 'Unto us,'" I declared, " 'a child is born; unto us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulders; and his name shall be called wonderful, counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the prince of peace.'" And if I was too insignificant for such words, I had to suppose that God had chosen me for His son because I had been born and had lived in the midst of common people rather than like a king. Thereby I could understand many small virtues and weak habits in others. If I could increase in my powers (and I knew that He would pass on many powers to me), perhaps the world of men might multiply in virtue with me. So I had begun to believe in my Father. I would labor for Him. Soon He would come to save Jerusalem. He was Lord of the Universe. I would labor with joy. Through Him, comfort would come to those who were sorrowful, and the hungry would be fed, yes, and those sinners in greatest despair would find their sins remitted. And I felt such joy at these thoughts that I could not believe they were my own. Indeed, the Devil must have scraped me sore in my judgment, for I was now ready to do all. But then, on this new morning I was not much afraid of Satan. He had captured only a small part of me. I had been tested, had proved loyal, and now my tongue began to feel clean. As I walked, there was the smallest and sweetest of modest miracles. In this desert waste I came upon a small tree and it bore plums that slaked my thirst and gave a sweet warmth to my limbs. I fell to my knees and blessed my Creator, yet before I could even begin to pray, I came to my feet again.

  I was obliged to wonder. Why had the Lord left me alone with Satan? Was it to scourge me of an excess of piety? Before long I would learn that there might be truth in this. There was work to do, and it could not be accomplished on one's knees.

  15

  I returned to Nazareth and entered the house where I lived with my mother. On greeting me, she was much relieved. For more than forty days I had been away, and if she had supposed at first that I was on a journey with my cousin, she had soon begun to hear fearful stories concerning John. (And all of this had come to pass while I was on the mountain.) It seemed that Herod Antipas, the son of dead King Herod, had long distrusted John the Baptist. Like his father, Antipas suffered from dreams; he worried that the prophet would inspire people to rise against him. Whereupon he put John away in a dungeon in the fortress of Machaerus on the high cliffs over the Dead Sea. So I knew that my time had come. I must leave Nazareth. I must take up a life of preaching and try to emulate what John had done.

  Yet my mother thought I should not be a preacher. She did not care to think of me wandering on lonely roads to give blessings to strangers; better, by far, to become a good Essene. She wanted me to join the desert community at Qumran, where the most devout are gathered. But that was not my desire. Men who choose to live at Qumran must first confess all guilt and all sin, give all that they own to the brethren, and live among them for years before they can be accepted as true Essenes of Qumran. And one did not speak in the presence of one's leaders unless invited.

  I did not understand how my mother could want such a life for me. It was the Lord to whom I should submit myself for tests, not to this or that High Priest. But then, my mother was not always easy to understand. If she was proud of my origin, she was full of worry for my wellbeing; rare was the day when she did not expect a catastrophe to befall me. Fear lived like a night animal in our small house. One could all but hear the scurrying in the dark.

  Moreover, if Mary was modest, she was also vain, and I would suffer by both ends, for her will was graven in stone. Yet she did not see herself as strong, but frail. Worse! She saw me as being like her, and therefore unready to go out into the world. And I, knowing all that I must now attempt, was not pleased that she placed such small confidence in me.

  I did not tell her what had happened during my forty days on the mountain, but then she must have known that I had been near at last to my Father. Still, she did not wish to hear any part of that. She had a heart large enough for a queen, but like a queen, she did not enjoy what she could not understand.

  Yet she was also a mother. She knew me very well. So she could now surmise that it had not only been my Father who was with me on the mountain but the Other. If the Devil owned the powers of darkness, then I was weak enough, as she would see it, to have been tainted. Therefore I must be guided by a community of the most devout. It can be said: She did not make my way easier. I was unhappy with her forebodings; she had the power to foretell certain events.

  In the midst of this quiet but unyielding dispute there came a diversion. A marriage was taking place in Cana, a town not far from Nazareth. The father of the bride, a wealthy man who had once hired Joseph and his carpenters to construct a fine house, now invited my mother, myself, and my brothers, James and John, to this wedding. And it would be the first time that Mary had left her home since Joseph died. Indeed, she remained so doubtful of whether to go or not to go that by the time we arrived, it was late and the ceremony had ended. My mother, most embarrassed, looked about sharply and said, "They are without wine." So many had come from the village to celebrate that all the wine was gone.

  Her voice was telling me that when a nuptial feast becomes dry, happiness will soon depart; it is an omen of misery for the new husband and wife. So I thought to try such powers as might now belong to me.

  Before us were six large stone jars of water, and on a table was one red grape, no more, and that grape I ate slowly and with much contemplation of the Spirit who resided within. Indeed, I could feel an angel at my side. In that instant, the water in the jars became wine. I knew this. It had been accomplished by no more than the clear taste of one grape and the presence of one angel.

  I felt near to the Kingdom of God. For now I k
new that this Kingdom was composed of much beauty. My Father was not only the God of wrath but could offer tenderness as gentle as the concern that rests in the touch of one's hand. All the same, I was also full of sorrow. For I had a vision of a great feast that I would never see. Before long, therefore, I chose to leave; James and John could walk home with my mother.

  As I left I could hear the uncle of the bride speak to the groom: "Every host sets forth good wine at the beginning, but when all are drunk, then wine which is not as good is presented. Yet you kept your best wine for the end and so your marriage will be blessed."

  That was the first of my miracles, and took place in Cana of Galilee. I was not quick, however, to praise myself, since the angel sent by my Father whispered into my thoughts: "Even as a barrel overflowing with honey can soon be emptied, so does the foolish son scatter his store of miracles." Therefore, I did not tell my mother. She was merely pleased that there had been wine after all, and so she was of slightly better heart concerning my departure. In the morning I set out with no more than a staff, a cloak, my sandals, and her tears.

  16

  I had thought of preaching in Capernaum, half a day's walk from Nazareth. Despite what the Devil had told me, I still wished to think of the prophet Isaiah as my guide, and he had written: "By way of the sea beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the gentiles, the people who sat in darkness saw a great light." So I chose Capernaum. It was on the Sea of Galilee (which is only a lake but as large as a sea), and the River Jordan flowed south from there to Jerusalem.

  Before leaving for Capernaum, however, I decided to speak at the synagogue in Nazareth. Since my tongue was hardly the equal of my hands when they worked with wood, I thought to begin where some, at least, would know me.

  But at first I could say no more to the congregation than: "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. The end is near." These words brought back no more than silence. How could people wish the Day of Judgment to be on them, and so soon? Indeed, it was a sunny morning in Nazareth. I, full of new thoughts that faith, even when severe, must still be natural, as natural as breath, also said (and now I spoke in our ancient Hebrew): "I thank Thee, O Father, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent and hast revealed them unto babes."

  Later I would see what Luke wrote in his gospel.

  "And all they in the synagogue when they heard these things," wrote Luke, "were filled with wrath. And rose up and thrust him out of the city, and led him onto the brow of a hill whereon their city was built that they might cast him down headlong. But he, passing through the midst of them, went his way."

  Luke was not a Jew. So his account is rank with exaggeration; he hated Jews. Because I was speaking in the small synagogue to which I had gone from childhood, none were ready to scoff at me. Still, I could feel laughter creep out of their feet. Such derision was like mice scampering silently over my toes. Indeed, I could hear the whispers before they were spoken: "The carpenter tells us to repent." And others said, "What is this that the Lord hides from the wise and prudent but offers unto babes?"

  So I knew that I must learn to preach in places where I was not known. That much I vowed, and yet, as I took the road from Nazareth to Capernaum, I could feel how my heart was still bruised by what the Devil had dared to say against the Lord. And my Father had not even defended Himself.

  At that instant, in the midst of such thoughts, I stumbled on the road, and it was an odd misstep. I was lithe of foot, yet I fell heavily. A strong arm had hurled me to the earth. And a strong voice spoke into my ear: "The words of the prophets are not My words. My prophets are honest but full of excess."

  I only said: "My Lord, I feel weak. I am lacking in eloquence."

  "Yes," the Lord said, "so did Moses say: 'O Lord, I am slow of speech and with a slow tongue.' I told him as I tell you: 'Who made man's mouth? Am I not the Lord?' Therefore, go, and I will be with your mouth and I will teach you what to say. Your words will not fall on the ground."

  Given this promise, I felt less uncertain. My Father also said, "You can do well in Capernaum. Say but one thing many times. These people are like stones and they are deaf. Therefore, tell them again and again: 'Thus saith the Lord God.' Do not be concerned with whether they hear. Words are also My creatures, and they travel by many roads."

  As I came to my feet, I could feel the Spirit lifting me higher. And I heard the wings of invisible creatures flying about me, then the sound of a thousand chariots, a noise of happy clamor that might as well have come from the other side of a hill. The Lord spoke again: "When you believe in Me, miracles will be in your hands, your eyes, and your voice."

  Yes, the hand of the Lord was strong. I came to Capernaum.

  17

  As I walked beside the pebbled shore of the Sea of Galilee, I saw two fishermen casting their nets. They were powerful men, and large, and with large hands. The older, who looked younger than myself, was, I would soon learn, named Simon; the other was his brother, Andrew. I also saw how Simon, once he had drawn in many fish, came upon a tear in his net and with strips of rawhide he mended this flaw with dexterity.

  I thought to myself, There is need of a man who can mend nets. If by one skill he captures the fish, by another does he prevent losing them. And without caution, as my voice carried across the distance it would take to cast a small stone, I said, "Come with me and I will make you fishers of men." I said it with great merriment, for I realized that to be without one's fellows for forty days is also a fast. If I had seen men and women at the wedding and in the synagogue of Nazareth, still they were not of my choice, not friends or men with whom I might work.

  So I looked upon these two fishermen as good men, and liked how they cast their nets to put a small spell upon the sea. Being a carpenter, who knew less of water than of wood, it still seemed to me that fish would be protected by their own spell and so a fisherman would need his own power of spirit to draw such creatures into his net.

  And so, "Yes," I said, and was rich in my enthusiasm. "Come with me and I will make you fishers of men." Between their eyes and mine passed an agreement across this space of water; I could feel how God had enabled me to steal a few skills from the Devil.

  In truth, I could now employ Satan's manner when speaking. I would address strangers with the finest courtesy and the most intimate exhilaration, as if we shared among ourselves the wonder of many things unsaid.

  I recalled how as Satan departed he had said to me, "Having high regard for you, I would like to touch your hand." And because I had wanted him to leave, I had touched my right hand to his, and knew in the same instant that I had surrendered a share of the Lord's protection.

  Only a small share. And I was certain that God had taken much back from Satan. For no sooner had Simon and Andrew brought their boat to shore and filled their bags with their catch than they came with me down the road to a house, where I was introduced to James, the son of Zebedee, and John, his brother, and this I saw as a good omen (those being the same names as my two brothers). I know that as soon as Simon called to them, they left their father, Zebedee, alone with his hired servants and came along with us, and I had to wonder if they were more ready for diversion than for prayer. Yet Simon vouched for them, and Simon would be my rock. So I decided. Soon I began to call him Simon Peter, for Peter, while it is the Roman name for rock, is a good sound. And Peter would be my rock in all hours but one.

  To Capernaum I now marched with these four followers. Looking at them, I knew that I had more to honor than to distrust. As we walked, Peter drew me aside and said: "Two nights ago our nets were so heavy with fish that our boat was foundering. But I prayed and we were saved. I would tell you: In my prayer I saw your face."

  Peter now fell on his knees and declared: "Do not take me with you, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." But I grasped his hand and told him that he was a good man as well as I could measure it. And I also said that his presence would strengthen me in Capernaum. So there we went, and straightaway to the synagogue. And on this
morning I preached the wisdom of John the Baptist.

  It was the Sabbath, and many were there. I understood that if I had found Peter and Andrew and James and John at their labors on the Sabbath, it was because they did not keep a mark of the days on which work was forbidden. Fishermen know only when the waters are ready. So I also knew that they would not be learned enough to preach with me. Not on this day. Yet I was eloquent after all, and by myself.

  I spoke of God's heart and how it was heavy. Out of the multitude of men and women that the Lord had created, He had selected His own chosen people, His Jews. Now, in these days, some were faithful, but many were not. God had prepared a heaven, therefore, to take in those Jews that He could judge with happiness.

  Those, however, who betrayed the Law or chased after sin or were full of folly would suffer. It would be a judgment to descend through many depths, cell beneath cell, even as the stone steps of my Father's dungeon go down forever, step by step. So do sinners recognize, and too late, that the power of His hand can destroy a kingdom as easily as a mouse is trodden underfoot! I spoke with the force of a man who swings a sword.

  "Repent," I said, "and you will have remission of all your sins." And by repeating this doctrine of John the Baptist, I could speak with authority. My voice lifted above the singsong of Pharisees and scribes. In this synagogue of Capernaum, as in others, the Pharisees and scribes would read from the scrolls in a weak and whining song, a droning of the heart as if their throats, dulled by years of compromise, spoke only from dying coals. Their voices hissed forth. Whereas my voice was full.

  I saidùnor did I know I would say as much until my words rang forthù"Come unto me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am meek and lowly in heart and you will find rest for your souls. Yet I would also say" ùand saying this, felt as if new powers had again been granted to meù"if you ask, 'Lord, will you cast out devils?' then they will be cast out."