The Last Temptation of Christ Part 2

aStop, my children,a he screamed. aItas a great sin to block G.o.das path, do not do it. What is ordained must come to pa.s.s. Do not step in the way. Let the cross through-it is sent by G.o.d; let the gypsies make ready their nails, let Adonaias apostle mount the cross. Do not be afraid; have faith! G.o.das law is such that the knife must reach clear to the bone. Otherwise no miracle will take place! Listen to your old rabbi, my children. Iam telling you the truth. Man cannot sprout wings unless he has first reached the brink of the abyss!a The cowherds withdrew their goads, stones fell from clenched fists, the people stepped aside to clear G.o.das path, and the son of Mary stumbled onward, the cross upon his back. The gra.s.shoppers could be heard sawing the air in the olive grove beyond; a hungry butcheras dog barked happily on top of the hill. Farther on, within the ma.s.s of people, a woman wrapped in a violet kerchief cried out and fainted.

Peter now stood with gaping mouth and protruding eyes. He was watching the son of Mary. He knew him. Maryas family home in Cana was opposite his own, and her aged parents, Joachim and Anne, were old bosom friends of Peteras parents. They were saintly people. The angels went regularly in and out of their simple cottage, and one night the neighbors saw G.o.d Himself stride across their threshold disguised as a beggar. They knew it was G.o.d, because the house shook as though invaded by an earthquake, and nine months later the miracle happened: Anne, an old woman in her sixties, gave birth to Mary. Peter must have been less than five years old at the time, but he remembered well all the celebrations which followed, how the whole village was set in motion, how men and women ran to offer their congratulations, some carrying flour and milk, others dates and honey, others tiny infantas clothing: presents for the confined woman and her child. Peteras mother had been the midwife. She had heated water, thrown in salt, and bathed the wailing newborn. And now, here was Maryas son pa.s.sing in front of him loaded down with the cross, while everyone spat on him and pelted him with stones. As Peter looked and looked, he felt his heart become roused. His was an unlucky fate. The G.o.d of Israel had mercilessly chosen him, the son of Mary, to build crosses so that the prophets could be crucified. He is omnipotent, Peter reflected with a shudder; he might have picked me to do the same, but he chose the son of Mary instead and I escaped. ... Suddenly Peteras roused heart grew calm, and all at once he felt deeply grateful to the son of Mary, who had taken the sin and lifted it to his shoulders.

Just as all this was jostling in his mind, the cross-bearer halted, out of breath.

aIam tired, tired,a he murmured. He looked around him to find a stone or a man he could lean against, but saw nothing except lifted fists and thousands of eyes staring at him with hatred. Then he heard what seemed to him wings in the sky, and his heart leaped up. Perhaps G.o.d had taken pity on him at the very last moment and dispatched his angels. He raised his eyes. Yes, there were wings above him: crows! He grew angry. Obstinacy took possession of him and he resolutely lifted his foot in order to continue walking and mount the hill. But the stones sank away from under his sole. He tripped, began to fall forward. Peter rushed out in time to hold him up. Taking the cross from him, he lifted it to his own shoulder.

aLet me help you,a he said. aYouare tired.a The son of Mary turned and gazed at the fisherman but did not recognize him. This entire journey seemed to him a dream. His shoulders had suddenly been unburdened and now he was flying in the air, just as one flies in oneas dreams. It couldnat have been a cross, he thought; it must have been a pair of wings! Sponging the sweat and blood from his face, he followed behind Peter with sure steps.

The air was a fire which licked the stones. The sheep dogs which the gypsies had brought to lap up the blood stretched their well-fed bodies out at the foot of a rock, by the edge of the pit their masters had dug. They were panting, and sweat poured from their dangling tongues. You could hear the drumming of the peopleas heads in this blast furnace, the bubbling of their brains. In such heat all frontiers s.h.i.+fteda"good sense and foolishness, cross and wings, G.o.d and man: all were transposed.

Several tenderhearted women revived Mary. She opened her eyes and saw her barefooted, emaciated son. He was at last about to reach the summit, and in front of him was another man carrying the cross. Sighing, she turned around as though seeking help. When she saw her fellow villagers and the fishermen she started to go near in order to lean against thema"but too late! The trumpet blared at the barracks, more cavalrymen emerged, clouds of dust flew up, the people crowded together again, and before Mary had time to step up onto a rock in order to see, the cavalrymen were on top of them, with their bronze helmets, their red cloaks, and the proud, well-nourished horses which trampled the Jewry under foot.

The rebel Zealot came forward, his arms tied in back of him at the elbows, his clothes torn and b.l.o.o.d.y, his long hair pasted to his shoulders by blood and sweat, his gray th.o.r.n.y beard immense, his motionless eyes staring directly in front of him.

The people were terrified at the sight. Was this a man, or hidden deep within his rags was there an angel or a devil whose compressed lips guarded a terrible and unconfessable secret? The old rabbi and the people had agreed that in order to give the Zealot courage, as soon as he appeared they would join all together in singing at the top of their voices the psalm of war: aLet my enemies be scattered.a But now the words stuck in their throats. Everyone felt that this man had no need of courage. He was above courage: unconquerable, insuppressiblea"and freedom was enclosed in those hands fettered behind his back. They all looked at him in terror and remained silent.

Riding in front of the rebel and pulling him along with a cord attached to the rear of his saddle was the centurion, his skin baked hard by the oriental sun. He had long ago begun to detest the Jews. For ten years he had put up crosses and crucified them, for ten years he had stuffed their mouths with stones and dirt to silence thema"but in vain! As soon as one was crucified a thousand more lined up and anxiously awaited their turn, chanting the brazen psalms of one of their ancient kings. They had no fear of death. They had their own bloodthirsty G.o.d who lapped up the blood of the first-born male children, they had their own law, a man-eating beast with ten horns. Where could he catch hold of them? How could he subjugate them? They had no fear of death, and whoever has no fear of deatha"the centurion had often meditated on this here in the Easta"whoever has no fear of death is immortal.

He drew back on the reins, stopped his horse and swept his eyes over the Jewry: eroded faces, inflamed eyes, soiled beards, greasy mops of hair. He spat with disgust. If he could only leave, leave! If he could only return once more to Rome with its many baths, its theaters, amphitheaters and well-washed women! He detested the East-its smells, its filth, its Jews!

The gypsies were shaking their sweat onto the stones. They had set the cross into its hole at the top of the hill. The son of Mary sat on a rock and looked at them, looked at the cross, the people, at the centurion who dismounted in front of the crowd; looked and looked, but saw nothing except an ocean of skulls beneath a fiery sky. Peter approached and leaned over to speak to him. He spoke, but a stormy white-capped sea was beating against the youthas ears, and he did not hear.

At a nod from the centurion the Zealot was released. He drew tranquilly to one side in order to recover from his numbness, and then began to undress. Magdalene slid between the legs of the horses and started to approach him, her arms spread wide, but he repulsed her with a wave of his hand. An old woman with a stiff, aristocratic air pushed her way through the crowd without a word and took him in her arms. He lowered his head, kissed both her hands for a long time, clasped her tightly to his breast and then turned away his face. Mute and dry-eyed, the old woman remained where she was a few moments longer and looked at him.

aYou have my blessing,a she murmured finally, and she went and leaned against the rock opposite, together with the gypsy sheep dogs that were stretched out in the scanty shade, panting.

Stamping his foot on the ground, the centurion leaped back into the saddle so that everyone could see and hear him. Brandis.h.i.+ng his whip over the mult.i.tude to command silence, he spoke. aListen to my words, Hebrews. Rome speaks. Quiet!a He pointed with his thumb to the Zealot, who had already removed his rags and was standing under the sun, waiting.

aThis man who now stands naked before the Roman Empire lifted his hand against Rome. While still a youth he pulled down the imperial eagles; then he took to the mountains and besought all of you to join him there and to raise the banner, telling you that the day had come when the Messiah would issue from your bowels and destroy Rome! ... Quiet out there, stop your shouting! ... Rebellion, murder, betrayal: those are his crimes. And now listen, Hebrews, listen to what I aska"I want you to be the ones to pa.s.s sentence. What punishment does he deserve?a He swept his eyes over the crowd below him and waited. The people were in an uproar. They bellowed, pushed one another, left the area a.s.signed to them and rushed up to the centurion, right to the feet of his horse, but then immediately recoiled in terror and flowed back in the opposite direction, like a wave.

The centurion grew furious. Spurring his horse, he advanced toward the mult.i.tude.

aI ask you,a he roared, awhat punishment for the rebel, the murderer, the traitora"what punishment?a The redbeard bolted forward in a frenzy, no longer able to control his heart. He wanted to shout aLong live freedom!a and had already parted his lips, but his companion Barabbas seized him and placed his hand over his mouth.

For a long moment there was no sound except a rumble like that of the sea. No one dared speak, but everyone groaned quietly, sighing and gasping for breath. Suddenly a shrill voice was heard above this unsettled din. Everyone turned, both out of joy and fear. The old rabbi had climbed once more onto the redbeardas shoulders. Lifting both his skeleton-like hands as though he wished to pray or bring down a curse, he boldly cried, aWhat punishment? The royal crown!a Feeling sorry for him, the people bellowed in an effort to drown out his voice. The centurion did not hear.

aWhat did you say, Rabbi?a he called, cupping his hand over his ear and spurring his horse.

aThe royal crown!a the rabbi repeated with all his might. His face gleamed, his whole body was on fire; he shook, jumped, danced upon the blacksmithas shoulders: it seemed he wanted to take to the air and fly.

aThe royal crown!a he shouted again, delighted that he had become the mouth of his people and of his G.o.d, and he stretched forth his arms to either side as though he were being crucified in the air.

The centurion went wild. Jumping off his horse and unhooking the whip from its place on the saddle horn, he advanced toward the crowd with heavy steps. s.h.i.+fting the stones, he advanced silently, like some heavy beast, a buffalo or a wild boar. The crowd stood motionless, holding its breath. Once more nothing could be heard except the gra.s.shoppers in the olive grove, and the impatient crows.

He took two steps, then one more, and stopped. The stench from the open mouths and sweaty, unwashed bodies had hit him. The Jewry! He advanced farther and arrived in front of the rabbi. The old man was looking down on him from his place atop the blacksmithas shoulders, a smile of beat.i.tude spread over his entire face. All his life he had longed for this moment, and now it had come: the moment when he too would be killed, just like the prophets.

The centurion half closed his eyes and glanced at him. It was with a great effort that he controlled his arm, which had already risen to smash the old rebellious head with a single blow. But he checked his fury, for it was not in Romeas interests to kill the old man. This accursed unyielding people would rise to its feet again and start a guerrilla war, and it was not in Romeas interests to have to thrust its hand once more into this waspsa nest of Jews. Governing his strength, therefore, he wrapped the whip around his arm and turned to the rabbi. His voice had grown hoa.r.s.e.

aRabbi, your face is deemed worthy of reverence only because I revere it, only because I, Rome, want to give it valuea"of itself it has none. That is why Iam not going to lift my whip. I heard you; you pa.s.sed sentence. Now I shall do the same.a He turned to the two gypsies, who stood on either side of the cross, waiting. aCrucify him!a he howled.

aI pa.s.sed sentence,a the rabbi said in a tranquil voice, aand so did you, Centurion. But there remains one, the most important of all, who must also pa.s.s sentence.a aThe emperor?a aNo ... G.o.d.a The centurion laughed. aI am the mouth of the emperor in Nazareth; the emperor is the mouth of G.o.d in the world. G.o.d, emperor and Rufus have pa.s.sed sentence.a This said, he unwound the whip from around his arm and started toward the top of the hill, maniacally las.h.i.+ng the stones and thorns below him.

An old man lifted his arms to heaven. aMay G.o.d heap the sin upon your head, Satan, and upon the heads of your children and your childrenas children!a The bronze cavalrymen meanwhile had formed a circle around the cross. Below, snorting with wrath, the people stretched on tiptoe in order to see. They were trembling with anguish: would the miracle happen, or not? Many searched the sky to see when the heavens would open. The women had already discerned multicolored wings in the air. The rabbi, kneeling on the blacksmithas broad shoulders, struggled to see between the horsesa hoofs and the cavalrymenas red cloaks. He wanted to discover what was happening above, around the cross. He looked, looked at the summit of hope, at the summit of despaira"looked, and did not speak. He was waiting. The old rabbi knew him, knew him well, this G.o.d of Israel. He was merciless and had his own laws, his own decalogue. Yes, he gave his word and kept it, but he was in no hurry: he measured time with his own measure. For generations and generations his Word would remain inoperative in the air and not come down to earth. And when it did come down at last, woe and three times woe to the man to whom he decided to entrust it! How often, from one end of Holy Scripture to the other, had G.o.das elect been killeda"but had G.o.d ever lifted a finger to save them? Why? Why? Didnat they follow his will? Or was it perhaps his will that all the elect should be killed? The rabbi asked himself these questions but dared not push his thoughts any further. G.o.d is an abyss, he reflected, an abyss. Iad better not go near!

The son of Mary still sat off to one side on his stone. He held his trembling knees tightly with both his hands, and watched. The two gypsies had seized the Zealot; Roman guards came forward too, and they all pushed and pulled amidst cursing and laughter, struggling to raise the rebel up onto the cross. When the sheep dogs saw the struggle they understood and jumped to their feet.

The n.o.ble old mother drew away from the rock she had been leaning against, and advanced. aCourage, my son,a she cried. aDo not groan, do not make us ashamed of you!a aItas the Zealotas mother,a murmured the old rabbi, ahis n.o.ble mother, descended from the Maccabees!a Two thick ropes had now been pa.s.sed under the rebelas armpits The gypsies hooked ladders over the arms of the cross and began to lift him up, slowly. He had a huge, heavy body, and suddenly the cross tilted and was about to topple over. The centurion kicked the son of Mary, who rose on unsure feet, took the pickax and went to steady the cross with stones and wedges so that it would not fall.

This was too much for Mary, his mother. Ashamed to see her beloved son one with the crucifiers, she fortified her heart and elbowed her way through the crowd. The fishermen of Gennesaret felt sorry for her and pretended they did not see her. She started to rush in among the horses in order to grasp her son and take him away, but an elderly neighbor took pity on her and seized her by the arm. aMary,a she said, adonat do that. Where are you going? Theyall kill you!a aI want to bring my son out of there,a Mary replied, and she burst into tears.

aDonat cry, Mary,a said the old woman. aLook at the other mother. She stands without moving and watches them crucify her son. Look at her and take heart.a aI donat weep for my son alone, neighbor; I weep also for that mother.a The old woman, who had doubtless suffered much in her life, shook her balding head. aItas better to be the mother of the crucifier,a she murmured, athan of the crucified.a But Mary was in a hurry and did not hear. She started up the hill, her tear-filled eyes searching everywhere for her son. The whole world began to weep. It grew dim, and within the deep mist the mother discerned horses and bronze armor and an immense newly hewn cross which stretched from earth to sky.

A cavalryman turned and saw her. Lifting his lance, he nodded for her to go back. The mother stopped. Stooping down, she looked under the horsesa bellies and saw her son. He was on his knees, wielding the pickax and making the cross fast in the stones.

aMy child,a she cried, aJesus!a So heart-rending was the motheras cry, it rose above the entire tumult of men, horses and famished, barking dogs. The son turned and saw his mother. His face darkened and he resumed his strokes more furiously than before.

The gypsies, mounted on the rope ladders, had stretched the Zealot on the cross, keeping him tied with ropes so that he would not slip down. Now they took up their nails and began to nail his hands. Heavy drops of hot blood splashed Jesusa face. Abandoning his pickax, he stepped back in terror, retreated behind the horses and found himself next to the mother of the man who was so soon to die. Trembling, he waited to hear the sound of ripping flesh. All his blood ma.s.sed in the very center of each of his hands; the veins swelled and throbbed violentlya"they seemed about to burst. In his palms he felt a painful spot, round like the head of a nail His motheras voice rang out once again: aJesus, my child!a A deep bellow rumbled down from the cross, a wild cry from the bowels not of the man, but from the very bowels of the earth: aAdonai!a The people heard ita"it tore into their entrails. Was it themselves, the people, who had shouted? or the earth? or the man on the cross as the first nail was driven in? All were one, all were being crucified. People, earth and Zealot: all were bellowing. The blood spurted out and splashed the horses; a large drop fell on Jesusa lips. It was hot, salty. The cross-maker staggered, but his mother rushed forward in time to catch him in her arms, and he did not fall.

aMy boy,a she murmured again. aJesus ...a But his eyes were closed. He felt unbearable pain in his hands, feet and heart.

The aristocratic old lady stood motionless and watched her sonas spasms on the two crossed boards. She bit her lips and was silent. But then behind her she heard the son of the Carpenter and his mother. The anger rose up in her and she turned. This was the apostate Jew who constructed her sonas cross, this the mother who bore him. Why should a son like this, a traitor, why should he live while her son writhed and bellowed upon the cross! Driven on by her grievance, she stretched forth both her hands toward the son of the Carpenter. She drew near and stood directly before him. He lifted his eyes and saw her. She was pale, wild, merciless. He saw her, and lowered his head. Her lips moved.

aMy curse upon you,a she said wildly, hoa.r.s.ely, amy curse upon you, Son of the Carpenter. As you crucified another, may you be crucified yourself!a She turned to the mother. aAnd you, Mary, may you feel the pain that I have felt!a As soon as she had spoken, she turned her head and riveted her eyes once more upon her son. Magdalene was now embracing the foot of the cross and singing the dirge for the Zealot, her hands touching his feet, her hair and arms covered with blood.

The gypsies took their knives and began to slash the crucified manas clothing in order to portion out the pieces. Throwing lots, they divided his rags. Nothing remained but his white headcloth, splotched with large drops of blood.

aLetas give it to the son of the Carpenter,a they said. aPoor fellow, he did a good job too.a They found him sitting in the sun, curled up and s.h.i.+vering.

aThatas your share, Carpenter,a one of them called, tossing him the b.l.o.o.d.y kerchief. aBest wishes for many more crucifixions to come!a aAnd hereas to your own, Carpenter!a said the other gypsy, laughing, and he patted him lovingly on the back.

Chapter Five.

LET US GO, my children,a cried the old rabbi, opening wide his arms to collect the bewildered ma.s.s of despairing men and women. aLet us go! I have a great secret to reveal to you. Courage!a They began to run through the narrow lanes. Behind them raced the cavalry, herding them on. The housewives shrieked and closed their doorsa"more blood was going to be spilled. The old rabbi fell twice while running and started to cough again and spit up blood. Judas and Barabbas took him in their arms. The people arrived in flocks and burrowed into the synagogue, panting. They stuffed themselves in, filled the courtyard too, and bolted the street door.

They waited, hanging upon the rabbias lips. Amid so much bitterness, what secret could the old man divulge to them to gladden their hearts? For years now they had suffered misfortune after misfortune, crucifixion after crucifixion. G.o.das apostles continually sprouted out of Jerusalem, the Jordan, the desert, or rushed down from the mountains dressed in rags and chains and frothing at the moutha"and every one of them was crucified.

An angry murmur arose. The branches and palm trees which decorated the walls, the pentagrams, the sacred scrolls on the lectern with their pompous words: chosen people, promised land, kingdom of heaven, Messiaha"none of these could comfort them any longer. Hope, lasting too long, had begun to turn to despair. G.o.d is not in a hurry, but man is, and they could wait no longer. Not even the painted hopes which took up both walls of the synagogue could deceive them now. Once while reading the prophet Ezekiel the rabbi had been swept away by G.o.d. He jumped up, shouted, wept and danced, but still did not find relief. The prophetas words had become part of his flesh. In order to relieve himself he took brushes and paint, locked himself in the synagogue and began in a divine frenzy to cover the wall with the prophetas visions: endless desert, skulls and bones, mountains of human skeletons, and, above, a heaven brilliantly red, like red-hot iron. A gigantic hand shot out from the center of the heavens, seized Ezekiel by the scruff of the neck and held him suspended in the air. But the vision overflowed onto the other wall as well. Here Ezekiel stood plunged up to his knees in bones. His mouth was bright green and open, and coming from inside was a ribbon with red letters: aPeople of Israel, people of Israel, the Messiah has come!a The bones strung themselves together, the skulls rose up full of teeth and mud, and the terrible hand emerged from heaven holding the New Jerusalem in its palma"the New Jerusalem, freshly built, brilliantly illuminated, all emeralds and rubies!

The people looked at these paintings and shook their heads, murmuring. This angered the old rabbi.

aWhy do you murmur?a he shouted at them. aDonat you believe in the G.o.d of our fathers? One more has been crucified: the Saviour has come one step closer. That, you men of little faith, is what crucifixion means!a He seized a scroll from the lectern and unrolled it with a violent movement. The sun entered through the open window; a stork descended from the sky and alighted on the roof of the house opposite, as though it too wanted to hear. Out of the devastated chest bounded the happy, triumphant cry: a aSound in Zion the trumpet of victory! Proclaim in Jerusalem the joyous news! Shout! Jehovah has come to his people. Rise up, Jerusalem, lift high your hearts! Look! From east and west the Lord herds your sons. The mountains have been leveled, the hills have fled, all the trees have poured forth their perfume. Put on the trappings of your glory, Jerusalem. Happiness has come to the people of Israel forever and ever.a a aWhen, when?a was heard from the crowd. Everyone turned. A tiny old man, slim, and wrinkled like a raisin, had stood up on tiptoe. aWhen, Father, when?a he was shouting.

The rabbi angrily rolled up the prophecies.

aAre you in a hurry, Manases?a he asked.

aYes!a answered the tiny old man. Tears were running down his face. aI have no time; Iam going to die.a The rabbi stretched forth his arm and pointed to Ezekiel buried in the bones.

aLook, Manases! Youall be resurrected!a aIam old, I tell you, and blind: I cannot see.a Peter intervened. The day was nearing its end. At night he fished the lake of Gennesaret, and he was pressed. aFather,a he said, ayou promised us a secret to comfort our hearts. What is that secret?a Holding their breath, they all crowded around the old rabbi. As many as could fit came in from the courtyard. The heat was intense and there was a heavy smell of human sweat. The s.e.xton threw tear-shaped pellets of cedar sap into the censer to deodorize the air.

The old rabbi climbed up onto a stall to avoid suffocating.

aMy children,a he said, wiping away his sweat, aour hearts have filled with crosses. My black beard long ago turned gray, my gray beard turned white, my teeth fell to the ground. What old Manases cried Iave been crying for years: aHow long, Lord, how long? Shall I die without seeing the Messiah?a I asked this over and over again, and one night the miracle happened: G.o.d answered. No, that was not the miracle. G.o.d replies every time we question him, but our flesh is bemired and almost deaf: we do not hear. That night, however, I hearda"and that was the miracle.a aWhat did you hear? Tell us everything, Father,a Peter called. He elbowed his way through the crowd and stood in front of the rabbi. The old man bent over, looked at Peter and smiled.

aG.o.d, Peter, is a fisherman like yourself. He too goes out to fish at night when the moon is full or nearly full; and that night it was fulla"it sailed in the sky as white as milk, so exceedingly merciful and benevolent that I could not close my eyes. The house constricted me. I marched through the narrow lanes and left Nazareth, climbed up high, perched on a rock and stared toward the southa"toward holy Jerusalem. The moon leaned over and looked at me like a human being, smiling; I looked at ita"at its mouth, its cheeks, at the corners of its eyesa"and sighed. I felt it was speaking to me, speaking to me out of the silence of the night: yet I could not hear. ... Not a leaf stirred on the earth; the unmown plain smelled just like bread, milk cascaded down the mountains around me, down Tabor, Gilboa and Carmel. ... This is G.o.das night, I thought. This full moon must be the nocturnal face of the Lord. Nights in the future Jerusalem will be such as this.

aNo sooner had this thought come to me than my eyes filled with tears. Grievance and fear took hold of me. aIave grown old,a I shouted. aAm I going to die without the Messiah first having gladdened my sight?a aI jumped to my feet. The sacred fury had seized me again. Removing my belt and all my clothes, I stood before G.o.das eyes just as I was when my mother begot me. I wanted him to see how I had aged, how Iad withered and shriveled up like a fig leaf in autumn, like the bare dangling stem of a cl.u.s.ter of grapes which has been plundered by birds. I wanted him to see me, pity me, and move quickly!

aAnd as I stood there stark naked before the Lord, I felt the moonlight penetrate my flesh. I had become wholly spirit: one with G.o.d, I heard his voice, not from outside or above, but from within me. Within me! G.o.das true voice always comes to us from within. aSimeon, Simeon,a I heard, aI shall not let you die before you have seen the Messiah, heard him, and grasped him with your hands!a a aLord, say that again!a I cried.

a aSimeon, Simeon, I shall not let you die before you have seen the Messiah, heard him, and grasped him with your hands!a aI was so happy, I went out of my mind. Stark naked, I began to dance under the moon, clapping my hands and stamping my feet on the ground. I donat know if this dance lasted a split second or a thousand years, but in any case I had enough finallya"I found relief. Putting on my clothes and buckling my belt, I went down to Nazareth. The moment the c.o.c.ks saw me from their perches high up on the rooftops they began to crow. The sky laughed, the birds awoke, doors opened and bade me good morning. My shabby house glittered from top to bottoma"doors, windows, everything: all rubies. Wood, rocks, men, birds: all smelled the presence of G.o.d around me. The centurion himself, bloodsucker that he is, halted with astonishment. aWhatas the matter with you, rabbi?a he asked me. aYouare a lighted torch. Watch out, donat set Nazareth on fire!a But I said nothing: I did not want him to soil my breath.

aIave kept this secret hidden close to my skin for years and years. Iave enjoyed it all by myself, jealously and proudlya"and Iave waited. But today, this black day that has seen a new cross nailed into our hearts, I am unable to guard it any longer. I pity the people of Israel. Therefore I unveil to you the joyous news: he is coming, he is no longer far away. He has probably stopped for a drink of water at some near-by well, or for a slice of bread at some oven where the loaves have just been removed. But no matter where he is, he will appeara"because G.o.d said so, and what he says, he does not unsay. aSimeon, you will not die before you have seen the Messiah, heard him, and grasped him with your hands!a ... I feel my strength leaving me day by day, but to the degree it departs, by so much does the Saviour approach. I am eighty-five years old. He cannot delay any more!a A hairless cross-eyed man with a sharp, skinny snout jumped up. He looked as though someone had forgotten to add the yeast when he was kneaded.

aBut what if you live a thousand years, Father?a he interrupted. aWhat if you never die? Weave seen that happen. Enoch and Elijah are still alive!a His tiny wry eyes flitted slyly from side to side.

The rabbi pretended that he had not heard, but the cross-eyed manas hissed words were knives in his heart. He lifted his hand commandingly. aI want to be alone with G.o.d. Leavea"all of you!a The place emptied out, the crowd dispersed, the old rabbi remained all by himself. He locked the street door and fell deep into thought, leaning against the wall where the prophet Ezekiel hovered in the air. He is G.o.d, he reflected, and omnipotent: he does what he likes. Can that rascal Thomas be right? Woe is me if G.o.d decides I should live a thousand years! And if he decides I should never diea"then the Messiah ... Are the great hopes of the race of Israel all in vain? It has held the Word of G.o.d in its womb for thousands of years, nouris.h.i.+ng it as a mother nourishes her seed. Our flesh and bone have been devoured: we have melted away, living only for this Son. But now the race has gone into labor; Abrahamas seed cries out. Release it, Lord, release it at last! You are G.o.d, you can endurea"we cannot. Mercy!

He paced up and down the synagogue. The day had finally waned. The shadows snuffed out the paintings and swallowed Ezekiel. The old rabbi looked at the penumbra which descended about him, and suddenly all that he had seen and suffered in his life rushed into his mind. How many times and with what longing he had run from Galilee to Jerusalem, then from Jerusalem to the desert in pursuit of the Messiah! But without fail a cross had put an end to his hopes and he had returned to Nazareth ashamed. Today, however ...

He squeezed his head between his hands.

aNo, no,a he murmured in terror, ano, no, itas impossible!a For days and nights now his mind had been drumming and ready to split. A new hope had come to him, a hope too large for his mind-a madness, a demon which was devouring him. But this was not the first time. This madness had been digging its claws into his mind for years. He would banish it, and it would come again. But it had never dared appear during the day; it had always come in the darkness of night, or in his dreams. Today, however, todaya"at noon, in broad daylight! ... Was he the one?

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. There he was, pa.s.sing once more in front of him, gasping, with the cross on his back; and all about him the air trembled, just as it must tremble around the archangels. ... Look! he raised his eyes. Never had the old rabbi seen so much of heaven in the eyes of man! Was he the one? aLord, Lord,a the rabbi murmured, awhy do you torment me? Why donat you answer?a The prophecies tore like lightning flashes through his mind. At one moment his aged head filled with light, at the next it sank without hope into the darkness. His bowels opened and the patriarchs came forth. Within him, his hard-necked persevering race, covered with wounds and led by Moses, the head ram with the twisted horns, started again on its endless journey from the Land of Slavery to the Land of Canaan; then the journey continued from the Land of Canaan to the future Jerusalem. In this new march, however, it was not the patriarch Moses who blazed the trail, but anothera"the rabbias mind throbbeda"another, bearing a cross upon his shoulder. ...

He reached the street door with one bound and opened it. The wind hit his face; he inhaled deeply. The sun had set; the birds were going home to sleep. The narrow streets filled with shadows; the earth grew cool. He locked the door and slipped the heavy key under his belt. For an instant he lost courage, but then all at once he made his decision. Head bowed, he set out toward Maryas house.

Mary sat on a high stool in the tiny yard of her house. She was spinning. It was still bright outside: the summer light drew slowly away from the face of the earth and did not wish to leave. Men and oxen were returning from their work in the fields. Housewives lighted fires for the evening cooking; the fragrance of burning wood invaded the afternoon air. Mary spun, and her mind twirled now this way, now thata"together with the spindle. Memory and imagination joined: her life seemed half truth, half fable. The petty round of daily tasks had lasted for years, and then suddenly the stunning uninvited peac.o.c.ka"the miraclea"had come and covered her tormented existence with its long golden wings.

aTake me where you want, Lord; do with me what you will. You chose my husband, you presented me with my son, you gave me my suffering. You tell me to cry out and I cry out; you tell me to keep still and I keep still. What am I, Lord? A handful of mud in your hands, and you knead me as you please. Do what you want. There is only one thing I beg of you: Lord, pity my son!a A brilliantly white dove flew down from the roof opposite, beat its wings for a moment over her head and then alighted with dignity on the pebbles of the yard and began to walk methodically around and around Maryas feet. It spread its tail feathers, bent its neck, turned its head and looked at Mary, its round eye flas.h.i.+ng in the evening light like a ruby. It looked at her, spoke to her. It must want to inform me of some secret, she said to herself. Oh, if the old rabbi would only come. He knows all about the language of the birds and could interpret for me. ... She looked at the dove and felt sorry for it. Leaving her spindle, she called the bird in a very tender voice, and the delighted dove took a hop and landed on her joined knees. And there, as though its whole secret was that it had been longing to reach those knees, it squatted, drew in its wings, and remained motionless.

Mary felt the sweet weight and smiled. Ah, if it were possible for G.o.d always to come down so sweetly over men! As she thought this, she recalled the morning she and her fianc Joseph had climbed to the prophet Elijahas summit, to heaven-kissed Carmel. They wanted to beg the fiery prophet to mediate with G.o.d so that they might have a son, whom they would then dedicate to the prophetas grace. They were to marry that same evening and had departed before dawn to receive the blessing of this flaming prophet whose great joy was the thunderbolt. Not a cloud in the sky; it was a lovely autumn. The human ants had gathered in their crops; the must was boiling in the jars; the figs drying, strung up on the rafters. Mary was fifteen at the time, her groom an old man with gray hair, but in his firm hand he held as a support the staff which had been foreordained to blossom.

They reached the holy summit at exactly noon. They knelt and touched the sharp, blood-stained granite with their fingertips, trembling. A spark flew out of the rock and cut Maryas hand. Joseph opened his mouth to call the summitas wild inhabitant, but before he could utter a sound the bellowing hail-laden clouds bounded angrily down from the foundations of heaven and formed a swirling funnel over the sharp granite. As Joseph darted forward to clasp his fiance and take her to the shelter of some cave, G.o.d slung a terrifying flash of lightning, heaven and earth joined and Mary fell over backward in a swoon. When she came to and opened her eyes and looked around her, she saw Joseph lying face down on the black granitea"paralyzed. ...

Mary placed her hand on the dove which sat upon her knees. She caressed it lightly so that she would not frighten it. aG.o.d descended in a savage form on top of the mountain and spoke to me in a savage way,a she murmured. aWhat did he say to me?a She had often been questioned on this by the rabbi, who was bewildered by the repeated miracles which surrounded her.

aTry to remember, Mary,a he would say. aThis is the way G.o.d sometimes speaks to mena"by means of the thunderbolt. Fight hard to remember, so that we may discover your sonas fate.a aThere was thunder, Father. It rolled down from heaven like a creaking ox cart.a aAnd behind the thunder, Mary?a aYes, youare right, Father. G.o.d spoke behind the thunder, but I wasnat able to discover the actual words. Forgive me.a Caressing the dove, she struggled to bring the lightning back to mind after thirty years and to untangle its hidden meaning.

She closed her eyes. In her palm she felt the doveas tiny warm body and beating heart. Suddenlya"she did not realize how, she did not know whya"dove and lightning were one; she was sure of it: these heartbeats and the thundera"all were G.o.d! She uttered a cry and jumped up in terror. Now, for the first time, she was able to make out the words hidden in the thunder, hidden in the doveas cooing: aHail, Mary ... Hail, Mary ...a Without a doubt, this was what G.o.d had cried: aHail, Mary ...a Turning, she saw her husband propped up against the wall, still opening and closing his mouth. It was dark now, yet he still toiled and sweated. She went to the doorway, pa.s.sing in front of him but not speaking to him. She wanted to see if by any chance her son was coming. She had watched him twist the crucified manas b.l.o.o.d.y kerchief over his hair and start down the road toward the plain. Where had he gone? Why was he late? Was he going to stay out in the fields again until daybreak?

As she stood on the threshold she saw the old rabbi approaching. He was puffing, leaning heavily on his crosier. The tufts of white hair at each of his temples waved in the evening breeze which had begun to come down from Mount Carmel.

Mary stepped to one side with respect, and the rabbi entered. He took his brotheras hand, patted it, but did not speak to hima"what could he say? His mind submerged in dark waters, he turned to Mary.

aYour eyes are s.h.i.+ning, Mary,a he said. aWhatas the matter? Did G.o.d come again?a aFather, Iave found it!a said Mary, unable to restrain herself.

aYouave found it? Found what, in G.o.das name?a aThe words behind the lightning.a The rabbi gave a start. aGreat is the G.o.d of Israel,a he cried, lifting high his arms. aThis was precisely why I came, Mary, to ask you once more. Today, as you know, one of our hopes was crucified, and my heart ...a aIave found it, Father,a Mary repeated. aWhile I was sitting this evening and spinning and thinking again about the lightning, I felt the thunder grow quiet within me for the first time, and behind it I heard a serene, clear voice, the voice of G.o.d: aHail, Marya!a The rabbi collapsed onto a stool. Squeezing his temples between his hands, he plunged deep into thought. After a considerable interval he lifted his head.

aNothing else, Mary? Bend far down within yourself so that youall be sure to hear. The fate of Israel may depend on what you say.a When Mary heard the rabbias words she became terrified. Her breast began to tremble, and once more her mind strained to discover what was behind the thunder.

aNo,a she murmured finally, exhausted, ano, Father. He said more, much more, but I canat hear it. Iam trying as hard as I can, but I cannot hear what he said.a The rabbi placed his hand on top of her head, above her large eyes.

aFast, Mary, and pray; do not dissipate your mind on daily tasks. There are times when a glowing halo as bright as lightning moves all around your face. Is it truly light, I wonder? I canat tell. Fast, pray, and you will hear. aHail, Mary ...a: G.o.das message begins with kindness. Try hard to hear what follows.a In order to hide her agitation Mary went to the shelf where she kept the jugs. She unhooked a bra.s.s cup, filled it with cool water, got a handful of dates also, and bent over to hand them to the old man.

aIam not hungry or thirsty, Mary,a he said, athank you. Sit down; I have something to say to you.a Mary took the lowest stool and sat at the rabbias feet. Tipping up her head, she waited.

The old man tested the words one by one in his mind. What be wanted to say was difficult: it was a hope so spidery fine and slippery that he was unable to find words spidery and slippery enough to avoid giving the hope too much weight and turning it into a certainty. He did not want to terrify the mother.

aMary,a he said finally, aa mystery roams outside this house, like a desert lion. You are not the same as other women, Mary. Donat you feel that?a aNo, I donat, Father,a she murmured. aI am like all women. I love all the cares and joys of women. I like to wash, to cook, to go to the fountain for water, to chat merrily with the neighbors; and, in the evening, to sit in my doorway and watch the pa.s.sers-by. And my heart, Father, like the hearts of all women, is full of pain.a aYouare not the same as other women, Mary,a the rabbi repeated in a solemn tone, raising his hand as though he wished to prevent all objections. aAnd your son ...a The rabbi stopped. How could he find words to express this, the most difficult part of all. He looked up at the heavens and listened. Some of the birds in the trees were preparing to go to sleep, others to wake up. The wheel turned; the day sank below menas feet.

The rabbi sighed. How the days rushed by, how rabidly one pursued the next! Dawn, dusk, the pa.s.sage of the sun, the pa.s.sage of moon after moon; children became men, black hairs whitened, the sea ate into the land, mountains were stripped barea"and still the One they awaited did not come!

aMy son?a said Mary, her voice trembling. aMy son, Father?a aHe is not like other sons, Mary,a the rabbi boldly replied.

He weighed his words once more, and continued after a moment. aSometimes when he is alone during the night and thinks no one is watching him, the whole circ.u.mference of his face gleams in the darkness. May G.o.d forgive me, Mary, but Iave made a small hole high in the wall. I climb up and watch him from there; I spy on what he does. Why? Becausea"I confess ita"Iam completely confused; my knowledge is of no help whatsoever: I unroll the Scriptures tirelessly but I cannot comprehend what or who he is. I spy on him in secret, therefore, and in the darkness I discern this light which licks him and devours his face. That is why heas been growing paler day by day and melting away. Itas not because of sickness, fasting or prayer; no, he is being devoured by this light.a Mary sighed. Woe betide the mother who bears a son unlike all the rest, she thought. But she did not speak.

The old man bent over her now and lowered his voice. His lips were on fire.

aHail, Mary,a he said. aG.o.d is all-powerful; his designs are inscrutable. Your son might be ...a But the unfortunate mother uttered a cry: aHave pity on me, Father! A prophet? No, no! And if G.o.d has it so written, let him rub it out! I want my son a man like everyone else, nothing more, nothing less. Like everyone else. ... Let him build troughs, cradles, plows and household utensils as his father used to do, and not, as just now, crosses to crucify human beings. Let him marry a nice young girl from a respectable homea"with a dowry; let him be a liberal provider, have children, and then weall all go out together every Sat.u.r.day to the promenadea"grandma, children and grandchildrena"so that everyone can admire us.a The rabbi leaned heavily on his crosier and got up. aMary,a he said severely, aif G.o.d listened to mothers we would all rot away in a bog of security and easy living. ... When youare alone, think over everything we have said.a He turned to his brother in order to bid him good night. Joseph, his gla.s.sy eyes misty and his tongue hanging out, stared into the air, struggling to speak.

Mary shook her head. aHeas been fighting since morning and still hasnat freed himself.a She went up to him and sponged the contorted, drooling mouth.

But the moment the rabbi held out his hand to say good night to Mary also, the door opened furtively and the son appeared on the threshold, his face gleaming in the darkness. The gory kerchief was pasted to his hair, but the night obscured the large tears which still furrowed his cheeks, as well as the dust and blood which coated his feet.

He strode over the threshold, looked hastily about him, discovered his mother and the rabbi and, in the darkness near the wall, his fatheras gla.s.sy eyes.

Mary started to light the lamp, but the rabbi held her back.

aWait,a he murmured. aIall talk to him.a Emboldening his heart, he approached.

aJesus,a he said tenderly, lowering his voice so that the mother would not hear, aJesus, my child, how long are you going to resist him?a And then the entire cottage shook with the savage shout: aUntil I die!a All at once, as though every ounce of strength had flowed out of him, the son of Mary collapsed to the ground and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The rabbi wanted to speak to him again. He leaned over him but immediately drew back with a jolt. He felt as though he had approached a great fire and burned his face. G.o.d is all around him, he reflected: yes, itas G.o.d who is around him, and he lets no one come near. Iad better leave!

He departed, plunged in thought. The door closed, but Mary did not dare light the lamp: a wild beast lay in wait for her in the darkness. Standing in the middle of the house, she listened to her husbandas hopeless clucking and to her son who, fallen in a heap on the ground, gasped in terror as though being strangled. Someone was choking hima"who? The unfortunate mother dug her nails into her cheeks and asked G.o.d, asked him again, complained, shouted: aIam a mother; donat you pity me?aa"but no one answered.

And while she stood there, fixed and speechless, hearing every vein in her body tremble, there was a wild, triumphant cry. The tongue of the paralyzed man had been loosed and the entire word had issued at last from his contorted mouth, syllable by syllable, and reverberated throughout the house: A-DO-NA-I! But as the old man unmouthed this word, he sank instantaneously, like lead, into the depths of sleep.

Mary nerved herself and lighted the lamp. The food was boiling. Going to the hearth, she knelt and removed the lid of the earthenware pot to see if any water was needed, or perhaps a pinch of salt.