The Gospel According to the Son (8 page)

He said: "I live in the tombs of those who are damned."

"What is your name?"

He answered: "My name is Legion. We are many, and the sum of this many are in me."

I knew he was filled with devilsùso many that they might be too much for me. Yet the hand of the Lord was on my back and urging me forward. "The unclean spirits who devoured King Herod are now in you," I said. "Flee from Legion. Flee." And I growled like a beast, which is what the Essenes do to enforce a commandment they receive from the Lord. And as I growled, so did a great herd of wild swine come rushing from the field beneath the tombs, and a turmoil of devils issued from the throat of Legion. How they screamed! I heard: "Let us in! Let us into the swine of Gadarene." A demon must inhabit a body. Whereupon I let them enter the herd, and they rushed with a great noise into these swine, who, upon receiving them, ran violently down a gorge into the sea. The number of these beasts was two thousand, and they all drowned, all the swine of Gadarene. Even these low animals could not bear such foul invaders.

Others soon came forward to look at a man who had been possessed by so many devils. But now they found Legion clothed and bathed and in good spirit. No matter. The elders from the town of Gadarene were afraid. They entreated me to quit their shore.

Yet as I returned to my ship, Legion began to beg that I let him come with my people. I was tempted. He would make a mighty apostle. But their number was twelve, and I could not add another. Moreover, he was a pagan. Still I could take no pride in saying: "Go instead to your people and tell them what happened." In truth, I abhorred the man. The rush of those demons who came out of his throat had been unfathomable in its uproar. Who could vouch for the cause of such a misery?

After he left, Legion spoke well of me among the gentiles in the city of Decapolis, where he went to live. They marveled at his words of praise. In former days, he had never had a good word for any man.

23

On my return to Capernaum, one of the elders of the synagogue (his name was Jairus) stepped forward and knelt at my feet. Until now, not one of the Pharisees had offered more than a place to teach (and this grudgingly). Yet here was Jairus. He pleaded with me, saying, "My little daughter lies near death. I pray thee, come and heal her so that she may live."

By now I had learned how close was faith to the loss of faith. Both stole silently into the heart. So I understood: The rulers of the synagogue might disapprove of me, but that did not mean I had failed to enter their hearts. Much strengthened, then, by this meeting, I went with Jairus to his house, and a horde came with us. As we passed through the street, I knew that someone had done me an ill. All virtue had suddenly left me. I turned and said, "Who touched my clothes?"

A stranger said: "You see the multitude, yet you ask 'Who touched me?' " But then a woman cried out and fell down before us. "I have had an issue of blood for twelve years," she said, "and have spent all I own on physicians and have only grown worse. Hearing of you, I touched your garment. I thought: 'That shall make me whole.' And it did. I have stopped bleeding."

I could see by her eyes that she spoke the truth. So I was gentle. I told her, "Daughter, go in peace and you will be wholly healed by tomorrow." No sooner had she left, however, than a servant from the house of Jairus came to him and said, "Your daughter lives no longer."

Had the ailing woman taken the virtue I had been gathering to save the child?

But in that instant my Father was with me, and feeling His strength, I turned to this ruler of the synagogue and said, "Jairus, be not afraid. Only believe." I had to hope that the daughter was not dead but resting in that long shadow of sleep that is near to death. For then I might save her. I did not know if I had the power to bring back those who are truly dead.

I recited to myself the words of the prophet Isaiah: "Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust."

At the house of Jairus there was much disturbance. Many were weeping and wailing. I entered and said: "The girl is not dead but sleeps."

And I spoke in this manner to calm the air. The dead are best raised in silence; tumult can only drive them further away. So I asked the mourners to leave the house and went with Jairus and his wife to where their daughter was lying. I held her hand and recited words I remembered well from the scroll of the Second Kings, saying: " 'When Elisha was come into the house, behold, the child was dead, and he prayed unto the Lord. And he lay upon the child and put his mouth upon the child's mouth and his eyes upon the child's eyes and his hands over the boy's hands, and he stretched himself upon the child and the flesh of the child was now warm, and the child sneezed seven times and opened his eyes.'

"And this," I told the father and mother, "having been spoken, need not be done again." For I knew that if I lay upon the girl and she failed to stir, incalculable would be the harm. With the power of the Lord in my hand, I merely touched her and said, "Good daughter, unto thee I say arise." And straightaway she arose and walked. Her parents were astonished, but I told them to give her food, and give it with all the love that they possessed, and this I said because the child, half awake, seemed full of misery that she had returned to the living. Nor did I know whether she had actually died and come back. But I did understand that much unhappiness between husband and wife had laid a pall upon the girl. I could see that she lived in a house of many unclean feelings. No air was sweet in these rooms, and those stale miseries that feed upon themselves were with us. Before I left, I told Jairus and his wife to fast, to pray, and to leave a flower each morning in a small jar by the child's bed.

It had been simple when I told the girl to rise, but there was a weight on me. Much had been drained from my limbs by the woman who touched my garment, and more now by arousing this child who barely wished to live. Had I drawn too deeply upon the powers of the Lord? Would it have been wiser to save His efforts for other matters? I felt a desire to return to Nazareth, and knew I wanted to apologize to my mother for that hour when I had wounded her love.

So I went back to my own country, and my disciples followed, and in Nazareth I spent two days with Mary. Yet I do not know if I soothed her feelings, for how could she forgive me after I had said: "Who is my mother?"

24

On the Sabbath, I began to teach in the synagogue, but it was not long before I heard sounds of discontent. Soon people were saying, "What wisdom is this?" And when I told them of my works, of the leper and of the storm, I felt a loss of modesty (which loss was now like a foul spirit in me). Moreover, I was not believed. It was as if word had traveled everywhere but to Nazareth. I could hear them say, "Isn't this the carpenter, the son of Mary?" And I wondered if any blow to pride wounds more than the obligation to honor a man who has been no larger than oneself until this hour. I was pained that they would offer me no love. "A prophet is without honor in his own country and among his own kin and in his own house," I said. "Nor can a doctor cure anyone who knows him. Of course, a doctor is no better than his patient." And indeed in Nazareth I could do no mighty work.

Still, there came the next Sabbath, and again I awoke with the strength of my Father, and was able to cure a woman who had lived with an infirmity for eighteen years. Yet I was scolded before evening by another ruler of this small temple for healing on the Sabbath day. He was a rich man, much pleased with himself, and he said: "There are six days on which men are to work and in such days they can be healed, not on the Sabbath."

To which I answered, "You let your ox out of the stall on the Sabbath and lead him to water. Yet you do not allow this woman to be loosed from her bonds on the day we celebrate the works of the Lord."

But he was more than ready for debate. He replied: "Some of us do not loose our oxen on the Sabbath. Faith is a narrow road." This offended me. I should have said: "Hypocrite! You do lead your ox to water on the Sabbath. You do not want him to thirst and lose value." But I was prudent and said: "Narrow is the way that leads unto life, and the way to destruction is broad."

He nodded, as if he were the one who would now come closer to the sweetmeat of the question: "The broad highway of simple faith is without peril," he said, "on days that are fair. When it rains or it is night, such breadth in the road turns into a trackless mire. Seek ye, Yeshua, for the narrow path that mounts between the rocks. Do not look for cures on the Sabbath. That is the broad highway."

With this, he laid his hand on my shoulder as if he were fatherly and I was of lesser faith. In the touch of his fingers was all the confidence of a wealthy man. His hand said to my flesh: "Respect my words. Much position rests beneath."

He had shamed me. My powers left. Once again, and in my own synagogue, I was without strength.

25

As soon as I left Nazareth, however, some good spirits returned concerning all that we could do. Indeed the time had come to send messengers forth. Nor did I think it unlikely that they would be able to perform acts like mine. Word of my power to heal had spread among many, and so many might be ready to have faith in my apostles.

I told them to go on their journey with nothing but a staff; no bread, no money, only one coat. I said: "Wherever you enter into a house, abide there until you depart. Whoever does not receive you, leave him quickly. Shake the dust from your feet. By so moving you will go your way with ease."

I also knew that I could give my disciples a part of what the Lord had bestowed on me only if I did not rest in my labors and never felt sorrow for myself: The destruction of each man is to be found in the pity he saves for himself. This was twice true for the Son of the Lord. So would it also be twice true for his closest followers.

I told them of other things. Indeed, there was much to learn. In a short time. So my speech was harsh. I was coming to understand that to repent of one's sins generates turmoil in a man; the soul races to and fro. That is the time when a gentle word may not be wise. If too distracted, we do not hear it.

I also told them not to worry if there were matters they did not understand. They still knew enough to teach others. "What you hear," I told them, "is the wisdom of the Lord. This you may preach from the housetops. Never fear those who can kill the body but are not able to kill the soul. Instead, fear God. He can destroy both soul and body. For, remember: God knows everything. Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father's knowledge. Fear not, therefore. You are worth more than many sparrows."

What I said next did not come easily to my tongue. It was prideful. Nonetheless, these were the words chosen by the Lord, and so they were in my mouth: "Whoever denies me, I will deny before my Father." Some of the apostles drew back. They knew that they had not been ready to tell everyone they met that they were of my co-hort.

I looked into the eyes of each of the twelve and said: "I have come not to send peace but a sword." And this was different from all I had said before. I had come to bring peace on earth, but now the Lord had given me a vision of many battles and they would all take place before peace could come. And my heart was sore with the pain that I had not made peace with Mary when I was last in Nazareth. So I spoke not only with the Lord's anger but with my own. My family had left me divided. So I said: "A man's foes can be the members of his own household. Whoever would love father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, just as he who would find his life must first lose it. Yet he who loses his life for my sake shall find it."

Now my apostles were weeping. No thought arouses more compassion for oneself than the belief that one is losing one's life for a friend; at such an instant one feels noble. It is natural to mourn for oneself. So I tried to teach them what is to be found in the laws of love, for such laws are much concealed. I said: "Love your friends like your own soul. Guard them like the pupil of your eye. Be glad only when you can look at them with love. Know that no crime is more onerous than to sadden your brother's spirit."

With this, they sighed. They saw the truth of what I had said; they also saw its difficulty.

With those words I sent them out to preach.

Now, I chose to live alone in a hut abandoned by shepherds, high in the hills above Capernaum. And I tried to subdue the fears that still remained with me.

Each fear was terrible. Each came upon me in the middle of the night. My limbs were heavy, and no road appeared.

26

The first of these fears was the worst. Nor was it a dream. I had learned that John the Baptist was dead. He had been slain in his dungeon at Machaerus, and it was King Herod Antipas who commanded the deed.

For so long as I had known of John's imprisonment I had believed that God would set him free. Now I knew that the firmest of my beliefs could be in errorùI was like a man whose foot has slipped on the edge of a cliff.

A second fear followed the first. Many were already saying that John had risen from the dead. He was bringing forth mighty works and miracles. Some were ready to believe that John and Jesus were one. The peril was clear. If Herod Antipas had slain John the Baptist once, he might not fail to kill him again. The way of John's death was a scourge to my sleep.

My disciples had told me how it came about. They had heard much, and from many: Herod first imprisoned John as punishment for saying: "It is not lawful for you to take your dead brothers wife." Lady Herodias, once married to Philip, the brother, was now wed to Herod Antipas. Having heard those words, Herodias, the new wife, reviled John's name. Then she reviled Herod Antipas. He had not punished John. Finally, the king ordered his guard to arrest the preacher. A monarch is weak before the righteous wrath of a queen who is without righteousness.

Yet Herodias could not convince Herod Antipas to name a day when the Baptist would be executed. The king still feared such an act. Who knew what powers God had given to John?

On the birthday of Herod Antipas, a feast was prepared in the fortress of Machaerus. Before all of the lords and high captains, Salome, the daughter of Herodias and the dead brother, now danced. Salome danced so ardently that Herod Antipas put her in a seat of honor beside him. Then he said: "Ask of me what you will. I will give it." Salome replied that his words were without weight. They had been promised to the air and only to the air.