But an Israelite could do more. His blood was like an open book, in which the archangels glanced to make their decisions about the future of the people. For this reason, an Israelite considered himself not only one with those of the blood of Abraham, but also, and more importantly, one with the God of Abraham himself.
A voice tore him away from his thoughts now, and he realised how long he had been daydreaming. In the centre of the hall one of Herod’s captains, not long returned from troubles in Dothain, was recounting something about John the Baptist.
‘He tells the people to repent, to change their hearts, for The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. He tells them this, but then the people do not suffer the heathens that dwell among them and they burn their idols and cause havoc and this has made the prince of Sidon send his armies to protect the idolaters from John’s disciples.’
Nicodemus looked to Caiaphas the High Priest. He was a Sadducee and naturally corrupt, a weak-willed man who leant on his father-in-law, Ananias, like a dizzy man holds to a wall. He was short and squat, and sat ensnared among vestments glistening with gold thread and studded with gemstones. He stared out from a face full of creases gathered together around a moist nose and two bead-shaped eyes. Upon his head a mitre of great proportions hid the source of thick braids that fell on either side, and met in a neatly oiled beard. Caiaphas stroked this beard fondly with one hand, while the other held a crosier, which every now and again he used to scratch his back.
‘But how many followers could this man have?’ Caiaphas asked his captain.
The man answered, ‘There are thousands and thousands…’
The hall buzzed with conversation and the shaking of mitred heads.
Herod Antipas, sitting on Caiaphas’s other side, nodded in agreement. ‘We have just returned from Callirrhoe, where I was forced to send my troops to quell the disorder.’
There was another swell of whisperings among the judges and those on the flanking benches.
The soldier spoke directly to Caiaphas, ‘We come to ask if we should be baptised by this man, so that the people may take notice of us, and do as we say.’
Herod made a smile. ‘I have already told my men that I see no need for baptism! Particularly since this John the Baptist is an impostor. I met him myself at Ainon! He does not produce miracles nor does he work wonders. He is a hands-breath from being an animal from what I could see for he wears a camel garment that barely covers him and his hair is unkempt and his beard is a tempest of knots! The only thing we can account for is his cleanliness, for he is in the river all day long!’
A round of restrained laughter echoed in the hall.
Nicodemus did not laugh. He looked about and saw that his friends and fellow members of the Sanhedrin, Joseph of Arimathea and Gamaliel, were also serious.
Herod said, ‘He tells all who will hear him that the blood of Abraham is polluted, and must be cleansed!’
There was a chorus of gasps.
Satisfied, he continued, ‘He teaches that priests and Levites are further from God than even a Samaritan!’
A confusion of voices and exclamations broke out, but in the great space where stood the laity there was quiet.
The captain spoke now through this marriage of silence and sound, ‘John the Baptiser was meaning that the goodness of a man does not rely on his station or on his birth, but on his own efforts! That any man can change his heart and see the Messiah!’
But derision and mockery drowned out his words. The judges called out, ‘Blasphemy! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!’
Herod widened his smile from ear to ear. ‘This John the Baptist, also says that he is the forerunner of the Kingdom of God, that he is the forerunner of the Son of Man!’
A quiet descended at the sound of those words. Nicodemus knew why. The Kingdom of God was something that was awaited with fear. The Pharisees feared the Messiah, for they saw him as a priest destined to usher in the end of days and bring about the destruction of the world. Conversely the Sadducees saw him as a mighty king who was set to take over the Sanhedrin and strip them of their power.
To Nicodemus they were both in error. He believed the Son of Man did not have the task of ushering in the judgement of God, nor would his kingdom come to change the world. It would come to change the soul of a man, so that he could judge for himself. For this reason the Baptiser’s words now rang true in his ears.
His friend’s voice interrupted his thoughts. The usually shy and prudent Joseph of Arimathea was standing among his peers and speaking. Nicodemus sat forward to look at him.
‘I have heard that this man has come from the wilderness of Judea like Elijah once came from the wilds of Gilead, and that he bears the same appearance and speaks a similar prophetic message! Should we not hear him before we condemn him?’
‘Our colleague is correct…’ Caiaphas said then. ‘We must send a deputation to find out who this man is, and what is his aim; a deputation of priests and Levites will bring back their findings to this court which will decide on a judgement.’
‘Splendid!’ Herod said brightly. ‘I will offer the delegation the convenience and protection of my own personal guard. My own captain shall guide them.’
Nicodemus was suddenly filled with enthusiasm. Perhaps this man John the Baptist, was a true prophet? If so the Son of Man was near at hand! Could he do less than find out for himself? He stood and all eyes turned to him.
‘I too, will go!’ he said.
28
WISE MEN, RICH MEN AND LEPERS
Jesus walked the road that led from Nazareth to Judea with his feet moving of their own accord and his thoughts vacant in his head.
During his conversation with his stepmother what had lived embedded in him like a seal on wax had begun its leave-taking. This had made him feel bewildered and abandoned, and unable to think coherent thoughts. His movements too followed only a predetermined design, towards the man who would take his destiny further.
At daybreak, a windstorm announced itself in the anger of a red sky. Soon the air had picked up the sand around him to sting his eyes. He stumbled and fell. Two men dressed in white garments with hoods over their heads and scarves over their faces came from the road ahead. They were leading an overburdened mule.
The taller man helped him up, and said loudly over the din, ‘What’s this? Jesus of Nazareth, is that you? Where are you going alone, my son?’
Jesus looked up at him, trying to understand words that no longer made sense. When his voice came from his mouth it sounded hollow, as if it came not from him but from the wind, ‘I am going to where people like you do not wish to direct your vision, where human pain can find the consolation that comes from what you have forgotten!’
‘Jesus of Nazareth!’ the other man shouted. ‘Do you not remember us from Engaddi?’ The man took the scarf from his face momentarily. ‘Do you see who I am?’
The shorter man did likewise, and said, ‘I once sat with you in the grotto…do you remember?’
Jesus did not see them clearly. He saw however, what they represented.
‘Come away from this scorching wind!’ the taller one said, ‘The Lord is a storm come to sweep away the world.’
‘You are lost lambs!’ Jesus coughed, walking away.
‘We are all lost, Jesus!’ the shorter one cried, ‘It does not matter how many psalms we sing, or how many temples we build, God continues to deny us our Messiah!’
Jesus stood in the tempest of elements and looked at them. ‘And when I become your shepherd,’ he said, ‘when you realise who I am, you will run away again and become lost, just as you ran away from me long ago.’
The men put scarves to their mouths to ward off the dust and debris.
The shorter man said, ‘You must come with us…you are not well. Not far from here there is a house of the order where you can rest.’
‘Leave me be!’ he said to them. ‘I won’t go to your secluded house! You wear white and you pretend to be pure, but you are not pious men in your hearts,
because in you burns a fire that has not been kindled by God but by your own ambitions. You bear the mark of the tempter! It is the tempter that has made you arrogant, so that your wool glitters with his fire!’ He put his fingers to his face. ‘But the hair of this wool you try to pull over me pricks my eyes.’
The taller man shouted, ‘Rest assured, Jesus, it is the dust that pricks your eyes! You know we have shown the tempter the door, he has no part in what we do…you should’ve stayed with us, now look at what the world has made of you! Let us help you!’
‘Oh what arrogance and pride! But you are only greater than others because you stand on their backs!’
They did not know how to respond to this and he left them standing in the desert. Behind him the mule made its loud complaints, shaking its head, as the breath of Jehova carried the world away to blot out the sun.
The storm abated, and days passed without beginning and without end.
It was night.
Fatigued and cold Jesus wandered towards a light in the distance. When he drew near to it, he saw a man sitting by a fire preparing to eat a meal. When the man looked up, he stood in a hurry, afraid, and called out to Jesus with a mustered boldness,
‘Who are you? I am alone but I have a knife, and I shall not be afraid to use it!’
Jesus showed him his empty hands. ‘I thirst,’ he said, knowing he must pause, for his legs would soon give out from under him.
The man came to Jesus and helped him to a place beside the fire.
‘Forgive me…I am constantly afraid of being robbed by thieves or killed by bandits! I see you are no thief and no bandit…come, be my guest, eat at my table. I have made soup,’ he said, showing Jesus the watery stew which he was pouring into a bowl. ‘There’s crow in it and wild mushrooms,’ he pointed out those meagre morsels with an approving eye, ‘and some other wild things I have no name for. Once, you know, I would have spat at the thought of such a meal, but now I shake with anticipation. Look at my hands how they shake. Because of the crow, I have made it boil a good long while, to kill the poison. That is what it has come to, still, thanks be to God, I have something!’ He sighed, ‘Israel mourns, Israel hungers, its people cry out in pain for deliverance, but first I must cry out for something to put into my belly! After that, a man can turn his mind to the hunger of the soul. In the meantime we are all animals…’ He looked at Jesus. ‘You need something in your belly too, I’ll wager. You look like you have eaten nothing in days. Come, it’s good you’ll see, I have let it boil long to kill the poison…’
Jesus shook his head. ‘I want only water.’
‘Only water…!’ the man said, peering at him with more intensity. ‘Are you a prophet? Yesterday I heard tell from a holy man of a prophet in these parts. So help me God! He was described to seem just like you! Many don’t trust prophets, they think them mad people, one foot in heaven and the other in hell…but I believe it a good thing to know a prophet who can speak to God.’
The man gave him some water, which Jesus drank with gratitude. After that he looked at the man and said, ‘I thank you for the water…but I am not a prophet.’
‘What a shame!’ The man’s spirit drooped. He took a thoughtful gulp of his soup. ‘If you were a prophet,’ he continued, ‘I would ask you to speak to God on my behalf…on account of the paths my soul has taken.’
Jesus was directed to an apparition that loomed large and red over the man. ‘What are these paths? I have seen you before, a thousand years ago. You were different then!’
The man grew fearful. ‘What do you see? Oh, dear God of Abraham, what do you see? Is it the Devil sitting on my shoulders? Is it?’ He shuddered and moaned, and shuddered again. ‘Would you send it away? It hounds me. I have given up everything, and yet it follows me! I admit that I was never a pious man. My heart was always bent on acquiring riches and high honours and I thought that I was of greater value than others. One day I had a terrible dream. I saw what had made me rich. It was not I, myself, it was a black angel with huge red wings, and I was terrified because I knew that it was the devil! I took to my heels to escape him, abandoning everything, and I have been going about for a long time, fleeing from what sits on my own shoulders.’ When he said this, his eyes clouded with tears and he seemed to be lost in a vision of his own wretchedness.
‘I have seen this spirit that hounds you before,’ Jesus said to him, ‘at the pagan altars…it is the spirit of pride and arrogance!’
‘Yes…yes…!’ the man said with eyes wide. ‘Pride and arrogance! Exactly! That is my weakness!’
Jesus could not help him, he could not help anyone, not yet…something was waiting for him in the river and he had to go. He stood then and with a heart full of sorrow, left the man in his misery.
He walked day after day, with the sun’s fingers on his brow and spent the nights huddled, trembling from cold, with his teeth chattering and only the robe his stepmother had made for him wrapped around him. On the morning of the twelfth day, when the fire-ball came out of its rocky bed he was up again, walking, and came upon the disfigured shape of a man sitting beneath a solitary tree.
Already the world was a furnace and he knew he must have shade, but as he neared the tree the man sitting there raised his head and Jesus saw that his skin was covered in pustules that were leaking with suppurations, that his nose was a hole in his face and that the lids over his eyes were gone missing, giving him the look of a living cadaver. The leper tried in vain to cover his malignancies with a hand eaten and ravaged.
‘Go away!’ he said to Jesus. ‘I am foul! Hurry! Don’t come near, for the path I walk is not your path, my son. I beg you to leave while you can…!’
Jesus sat near the man and wiped his brow with a sleeve. ‘It is hot,’ he said.
‘Yes, yes, it is hot, but please, save yourself! Must I take upon my soul your death on top of everything else I have to bear?’
Jesus heard snakes hissing behind rocks and when he looked at the leper he saw blue wings and a cold eye. He had seen this eye before in the faces of those Temple priests. The eye looked at him while its wings enfolded the man.
‘Tell me,’ Jesus said to him, ‘where has the path your soul has taken, led you? I know you, I saw you thousands of years ago, but you are now changed, you are come down to earth!’
The leper was terrified. He sucked in a breath through the purple edged crater that was his mouth, and from within this cavern he emitted a strangled voice, ‘Do you see it? Oh the misery! Where is the Messiah? When will he come to release me from this dreadful thing that claws into my flesh? He came so gradually, you know. At first I thought he was the Archangel Gabriel and I adored him, but I soon realised that he was another…I realised he was the angel of death! Death itself gnaws at my bones and feeds on my flesh…look at me! Me, a learned rabbi, a powerful man in the synagogue! Now I am defiled and no one will have me near them, and I have to walk alone in desolate places like this, scarcely able to beg for what scraps people will give me at their doors.
‘When you came I was waiting for death to tear me to pieces with his jaws…I have waited! But he wants to torture me more.’ He began weeping then into his ulcerated hands.
‘I have seen it,’ Jesus told him, putting a hand on the man’s shoulders, ‘It is the sharpness of your dead thoughts, rabbi...these are like corpses and rotting carcasses.’
The man was so frightened that put both hands over his face to ward off the picture of it.
Jesus pointed his head to the sun and bellowed an, ‘Ah!’ into that white light that blinded his eyes. ‘I am a grain of sand in the desert! What can a grain of sand do?’ he said to it.
He got up, hot tears falling on the dirt at his feet, and went on his way.
And like the wise men and the rich man, this leper did not see him go until he was a speck on the horizon.
29
A NEW SEASON
It was in the fifteenth year of the rule of Tiberias, on a day when Venus stood in Aquarius, that John the B
aptiser awoke feeling his muscles and sinews taut, his mind awake and alert and his heart calm.
The sun had popped up out of its desert crib to cast its fiery eye over Israel and to beat upon the brows of men and the backs of beasts. Each day he faced this sun, standing waist deep in that freezing river, observing with an unfaltering eye the whirling tumult of dead thoughts and sins that were discharged into the river from the souls of those whom he baptised. Each day he wondered where the strength would come for his work and each day he was given the forces necessary. But this day something was altered. In himself he felt it, the nearness of the fulfilment of his task, accompanied by a strange bewilderment, since he found himself desiring to forestall it!
In this mood he left his hut of rushes to say his prayers to the God of Israel and to perform his ablutions before taking himself to that little bend in the river near Bethany, situated in the lower Jordan.
Large crowds came to be baptised and he worked for hours without pause, looking into each soul to determine its measure and value, dividing the lambs from the vipers. Near the midpoint of the day the leaders of these vipers arrived at the river, a deputation of priests and Levites upon asses preceded by a retinue of guards whose swords caught the bold sunlight and reflected their sharp sting into John’s eyes. They pushed aside the crowds to allow the priests to come to the shore.
Well…well…his words had moved across the land, so that even the Temple in Jerusalem had heard of him! He was pleased for the sake of his task.
He said to them, ‘The Masters of the ancient wisdom of the snake, the brood of vipers, the initiates of Lucifer, have come!’
One Pharisee said from his high position, ‘We are here on behalf of the Sanhedrin, to ask you some questions.’
‘Questions?’ the baptiser said, looking about with mockery in his eye. ‘If you come asking questions concerning laws that are written in books, you will not find anything here to satisfy you. I do not answer to laws that indicate this or that to be right or wrong. I answer only to the power that exists in every man to know right from wrong in his own heart!’
Fifth Gospel: A Novel (Rosicrucian Quartet) Paperback Page 17
