The Last Temptation of Christ (40 page)

“He’s tired, my lords,” Mary interrupted, and she looked beseechingly at the old men. “Do not torment him.”

“Right!” growled Melchizedek. Leaning on his staff, he began to get up and leave. “You’re absolutely right, Mary. We’ve been talking to him as though we were his judges. We forget—” he turned to the second elder—“you forget, Father Samuel, that the angels frequently come down to earth dressed like paupers, with but one humble tunic and no staff, purse or shoes—just like this man. It is well, therefore, that we take heed and bear ourselves toward the stranger as we should toward an angel. That’s simply good sense.”

“That’s also simply asinine,” the blind elder snapped again, guffawing. “I say we should consider every man an angel, every man, yes, even old Samuel!”

Old Venom-Nose flew into a rage. He was ready to open his mouth, but on reflection changed his mind. The blind buzzard was rich; he might have need of him one day. Best play deaf-that too was simply good sense.

The sweet glow of the fire fell on Jesus’ hair, tired face and uncovered chest; threw sudden blue beams over his curly, raven-black beard.

“He’s delicious, even if poor,” said the ladies to one another, stealthily. “Did you notice his eyes? They’re the sweetest I’ve ever seen, sweeter even than my husband’s when he holds me in his arms.”

“I’ve never viewed any so wild,” interrupted another. “All fear and terror. You feel like leaving everything and taking to the hills.”

“And did you see Martha just eating him up with her eyes, dear? Poor thing, she’ll go crazy tonight.”

“But he eyed Mary on the sly,” another lady said. “The two sisters will have it out tonight, mark my words. I’m their neighbor; I’ll hear the yelling.”

“Let’s go,” commanded old Melchizedek. “It was a waste of time to take the trouble of coming. The visitor is sleepy. Get up, elders, let us go!” He began to push aside both men and women with his staff so that he could pass through.

But just as he reached the door hurried footsteps were heard in the yard and a pale man rushed inside and crumpled down in a heap in front of the fire, out of breath. The two terrified sisters fell upon him and hugged him.

“Brother,” they cried, “what has happened to you? Who is chasing you?”

Melchizedek stopped and touched the newcomer with his staff. “Lazarus, son of Manacheim,” he said, “if it’s bad news you bring, let the women leave and the men remain, so that we may hear it.”

“The king seized John the Baptist and cut off his head!” shouted Lazarus in a single breath.

He stood up, trembling. He was jaundiced, the color of soil, with flabby, gourd-like cheeks; and his faded green eyes glittered in front of the fire like those of a wild cat.

“Our evening hasn’t gone to waste after all,” the blind elder said contentedly. “In the time which elapsed from the morning, when we awoke, until now, when we are about to go to sleep, something at least has finally happened: the world has moved. Let us therefore sit ourselves down on the stools and listen. I like news, even if it’s bad.”

He leaned toward Lazarus. “Speak, if you please, my good fellow. Tell us when, how and why this misfortune took place. Put everything in its proper order and don’t rush—it will while away our time. Catch your breath. ... We’re listening.”

Jesus had risen with a start. He looked at Lazarus, his lips quivering. This was a new sign sent him by God. The Forerunner had left the world, was no longer needed. He had prepared the way and departed, his duty done. My hour has come ... my hour has come, Jesus thought, shuddering; but he remained silent, his eyes riveted upon Lazarus’s pale-green lips.

“He murdered him, did he?” growled old Melchizedek, angrily banging his staff on the ground. “What a state we’ve come to, when incestuous lechers kill saints, and debauchees ascetics! It’s the end of the world!”

Overcome with fright, the women began to scream. The blind elder pitied them. “You exaggerate, Melchizedek,” he said. “The world stands firm on its feet. Ladies, don’t be afraid.”

“The throat of the world is cut,” whined Lazarus, tears streaming from his eyes. “The voice of the desert has been snuffed out. Who now will call to God for us sinners? The world is orphaned!”

“One must not lift his hand against authority,” hissed the second elder. “No matter what the powers-that-be do, close your eyes and don’t look—for God looks. The Baptist should have minded his own business. Serves him right!”

“Are we slaves?” thundered Melchizedek. “Can you tell me why God gave men hands? I’ll tell you why: so that they could lift them against tyrants!”

“Be quiet, Fathers, so that we may hear how this evil took place,” said the blind elder, irritated. “Speak, Lazarus!”

“I was on my way to get baptized with all the rest,” Lazarus began. “I hoped it might improve my health. As you know, I haven’t been very well recently. In fact, I’ve been getting worse and worse. I feel dizzy, my eyes puff up, and my kidneys—”

“All right, all right, we know all that,” scoffed the blind elder. “Come to the point!”

“I reached the Jordan and was by the bridge where the crowd assembles to be baptized. I heard cries and weeping and said to myself, ‘It’s nothing, probably just the people tearfully confessing their sins.’ I went forward a bit, and what do I see but men and women fallen on their faces in the river mud, lamenting. I asked, ‘What’s happened, brothers? What are you crying about?’

“ ‘The Prophet’s been murdered!’

“ ‘By whom?’

“ ‘The criminal, the transgressor—Herod!’

“ ‘How, when?’

“ ‘He was drunk and his shameless step-daughter Salome was dancing in front of him stark naked. Her beauty drove the old lecher out of his senses. He sat her on his knee and asked what she wanted him to give her. Half his kingdom? She said no. What did she want, then? She said John the Baptist’s head. You shall have it, he told her, and he had it brought her on a silver platter.’ ”

Exhausted by his speech, Lazarus collapsed once more to the ground. No one spoke. The lamp sputtered, flickered, was about to go out. Martha rose and refilled it with oil. It grew bright again.

“It’s the end of the world,” old Melchizedek repeated after a long pause. All this time he had been silently stroking his beard and weighing the world’s iniquity and shamelessness. News frequently came from Jerusalem that the idolaters were soiling the holy Temple. Every morning the priests slaughtered a bull and two lambs as a sacrifice not to the God of Israel but to the godless, execrable Roman emperor. The wealthy opened their doors in the morning, saw on their doorsteps men who had died of hunger during the night, lifted up their silken robes and stepped over the corpses to go and parade along the arcades around the Temple. ... Melchizedek weighed everything in his mind, and decided: it was truly the end of the world.

He turned to Jesus. “And you, what do you have to say about all this?”

Jesus replied in a voice which had suddenly become so exceedingly deep that they all turned and stared at him. “I come from the desert where I saw them. Yes, three angels have already departed from the heavens to fall upon this earth. I saw them with my own eyes, visible at the edge of the sky. They are coming. The first is Leprosy, the second Madness, and the third, the most merciful, Fire. And I heard a voice: ‘Son of the Carpenter, construct an ark, place therein as many virtuous men as you find, but quickly!’ The day of the Lord is here—my day. I am coming!”

The three elders shrieked. The rest of the men got up from the ground where they had been sitting with crossed legs. Their teeth were chattering. The women, stricken dumb, turned in one body toward the door. Mary and Martha went and stood next to Jesus, as though seeking his protection. Had he not sworn to take them into the ark? The time had come.

Old Melchizedek wiped away the sweat which was running from his white temples. “The stranger speaks the truth,” he shouted, “the truth! Listen, brothers, to this miracle: When I got up this morning, I unrolled the Holy Scriptures as I always do and I chanced upon the words of the prophet Joel: ‘Blow the trumpet of Zion; may the holy mountain resound. Let all who inhabit the earth tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming, a day of clouds and darkness. Before Him—fire; behind Him—flames. They shall rush like horses; they shall clatter like chariots of war over the stones. And at the tops of the mountains the flames will crackle, as when they pour over the reeds and devour them. ... Such is the day of the Lord!’ I read this terrible message two or three times and began, barefooted, to chant it in my yard. Then I fell on my face and cried, ‘Lord, if you plan to come soon, send me a sign. I must prepare myself. I must pity the poor, open my larders and pay for my sins. Send a thunderbolt, a voice or a man to warn me, so that I’ll be in time!’ ”

He turned to Jesus. “You are the sign. God sent you. Do I have time? When will the heavens open, my child?”

“Each second which passes, Father,” Jesus replied, “is a heaven ready to open. At every instant, Leprosy, Madness and Fire advance one more step. Their wings are already touching my hair.”

Lazarus had opened wide his faded green eyes and was staring at Jesus. He took an unsteady step forward.

“Are you by any chance Jesus of Nazareth?” he asked. “They say that as the executioner seized the cleaver to cut off the Baptist’s head, the prophet stretched out his hand toward the desert and cried, ‘Jesus of Nazareth, leave the desert, return to mankind. Come. Do not forsake the world.’ If you are Jesus of Nazareth, blessed is the ground on which you walk. My house is sanctified; I am baptized and cured. I fall and worship your feet!”

Having said this, he prostrated himself in order to kiss Jesus’ feet, which were covered with bruises.

But sly old Samuel quickly pulled himself together. His mind had tottered for a moment, but he rapidly re-steadied himself on his feet. We find in the prophets whatever our hearts desire, he reflected. On one page the Lord is in a frenzy against his people and lifts his fist to crush them; on the next, he is all milk and honey. We find the prophecy which matches our morning mood—so, let’s not lose any sleep over it. ... He shook his horse-like head and smirked in his beard, but said nothing. Let the people be afraid. It’s good for them. Without fear ... The poor are more numerous and more muscular. We’re lost!

He kept silent therefore and gazed contemptuously at Lazarus, who was kissing the visitor’s feet and speaking to him.

“If the Galileans I met at the Jordan are your disciples, Rabbi, they gave me a message in case I should meet you: They’re going to leave, and will wait for you in Jerusalem, at the David gate, in the tavern of Simon the Cyrenian. They got frightened evidently at the slaying of the Prophet and have fled in order to hide. The persecution has begun.”

The women, meanwhile, pulled at their husbands, trying to get them to depart. They understood everything. This foreigner, they told themselves, has the viper’s eye. He looks at you and you go out of your mind. He speaks and the world comes tumbling down. Let’s get away!

The blind elder took pity on them. “Courage, my children,” he cried. “I hear monstrous things, but don’t be afraid. Everything will fall peacefully in place once more—you shall see. The world is steady; it has a good foundation and will stand as long as God stands. Don’t listen to those who can see; listen to me, a blind man, who therefore can see better than all of you. The race of Israel is immortal. It signed an agreement with God: God affixed his seal and presented us with the entire earth. So, don’t be afraid. It’s almost midnight—let’s go to bed!” He put forth his staff and made a line for the door.

The three elders left first. Next went the rest of the men; lastly, the women—emptying the house.

The two sisters laid the visitor’s bedding on the wooden platform. Mary went to her trunk and took out the silk and linen sheets meant for her wedding night. Martha brought the satin feather quilt which she had kept untouched so many years, awaiting the long-desired night when it would cover both her and her husband. She also brought fragrant herbs—basil and mint—and filled his pillow to overflowing.

“He’ll sleep tonight like a bridegroom,” said Martha with a sigh. Mary sighed also, but did not speak. Close your ears, God, she murmured to herself. The world is good despite my sighs. Yes, good; but I’m so afraid of loneliness, and I like this visitor so very much ...

The sisters went into the small inner room and lay down on their hard mats. The two men were on the wooden platform, one at each end, their feet touching. Lazarus was happy. What an air of sanctity and beatitude hung over the entire house! He breathed tranquilly, deeply, pushed the soles of his feet lightly against the holy soles and felt a mysterious force, a divine certitude, rising and branching out through his whole body. His kidneys no longer pained him, his heart stopped palpitating; his blood flowed peacefully, contentedly from head to toe and irrigated the afflicted, jaundiced body.

This is the real baptism, he was thinking. This night I, the house, my sisters—all were baptized. The river Jordan came to our house.

But how could the two sisters close their eyes! It had been years since a strange man slept in their house. Visitors always lodged with one of the village notables, never descended to their humble, out-of-the-way cottage; and besides, their queer, sickly brother did not like company. But tonight, what an unexpected joy! With quivering nostrils they smelled the air. How it had changed; how perfumed it was—not with basil and mint but with the odor of a man!

“He says God sent him to build the ark, and he’s promised to put us in. Do you hear me, Mary, or are you asleep?”

“I’m not asleep,” Mary replied. She was holding her breasts in her palms, for they pained her.

“Dear God,” Martha continued, “let the end of the world come soon, so that we can enter the ark with him. I’ll serve him, that won’t bother me; and you, Mary, will be his companion. The ark will sail on and on forever, and I shall serve him perpetually, and you will sit perpetually at his feet and be his companion. That is how I imagine Paradise to be. You too, Mary?”