by George Moore
And then, seizing me by the shoulder, he said: look into my eyes and see. They shall tell thee that those who would be saved from the fire must follow me. I am the word, the truth, and the life. Follow me, follow me, or else be for ever accursed and destroyed and burnt up like weeds that the gardener throws into heaps and fires on an autumn evening. Yes, he cried, we are nearing the springtime when life shall begin again in the world. But I say to thee that this springtime shall never come to pass. Never again shall the fig ripen on the wall and the wheat be cut down in the fields. Before these things come to pass in their natural course the Son of Man shall return in a chariot of fire to make an end of things; or if thou wilt thou can say that he’ll come not to make an end but a new beginning, a world in which justice and peace shall reign. And it is for this end I offer myself, a victim to appease our Father in heaven. I’m the sacrifice and the communion, for it is no longer the fat of rams that my Father desires, but my blood, only that; only my blood will appease his wrath. As I have said, I am the communion, and thou shalt eat my flesh and drink my blood, else perish utterly, and go into eternal damnation. But I love thee and —— And after a pause he said: those that love God are loved by me, and willingly and gladly will I yield myself up as the last sacrifice.
Nicodemus stopped, for his memory died suddenly, and, unable to discover anything in the blank, he turned to Joseph and said: he speaks with a strange, bitter energy, like one that has lost control of his words; he is hardly aware of them, nor does he retain any memory of them. They are as the wind, rising we know not why, and going its way unbidden. I have seen him like that in Galilee, Joseph answered. Ah! Nicodemus answered suddenly, I remember, but cannot put words upon it. He said that before the world was, he and his Father were one, and that his great love of man induced him to separate himself ——
At that moment a man came out from the shadow of a rock and approached the wayfarers, who drew back quickly, thinking they were about to be attacked. It is Judas, Joseph whispered, one of the apostles. You have seen Jesus? Judas asked breathlessly, and when Nicodemus told how Jesus had said he would go up to Jerusalem for the Passover he cried out: to lead us against the Temple? He must be saved. From what? Nicodemus asked: from his mission? He must go on to the end with the work he has been called out of heaven to accomplish. I can see that you have been speaking with him. Called out of heaven to accomplish! And then, clasping his hands, Judas looked with imploring eyes upon them: save him, he cried, save him, for if not, I must myself, for every day his pride redoubles and now he believes himself to be the Messiah, the Messiah as sent by God, Judas cried. By whom else could he be sent? Joseph replied. If he be not taken by the priests and put to death he will be driven by the demon into the last blasphemy; one which no Jew has yet committed even in his heart, and if that word be spoken all will be accomplished, and the Lord will choose another nation from among the Gentiles. He will declare himself God, Judas continued. Nicodemus and Joseph raised their hands. He speaks already of the time before the world was, when he and his Father were one; and setting aside the Scriptures in his madness he has begun to imagine that the angels that revolted against God were changed into men, and given the world for abode till their sins so angered the Father (remark you, of whom Jesus was then a part) that he determined to destroy the world; at which Jesus in his great love of men (or of fallen angels, for betimes he doesn’t know what he is saying) said he would put Godhead off and become man, and give his life as atonement for the sins of men. Sirs, I’ll ask you how God or man may by his death make atonement for the sins that men have committed? Hear me to the end, for as many minutes as you have listened, I have listened hours. By this sacrifice of his life his teaching will become known to men and he will reign the one and only king till the world itself crumbles and perishes. Then he will become one with his Father, and from that moment there will be but one God. These are the thoughts, noble Sirs, on which he is brooding, and if he go up to yon town it will be to —— Judas could not bring himself to pronounce the words “declare himself God,” so blasphemous did they seem to him. And before the wayfarers could ask him, as they were minded to, if he were sure that he had rightly understood Jesus, the apostle had bidden them farewell, and, running up a by-track, disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind him a memory of a large bony nose hanging over a thin black moustache that barely covered his lips.
As they walked towards the city, over which the moon was hanging, filling the valleys and hills with strange, fantastical shadows, they remembered the black, shaggy eyebrows, the luminous eyes, and the bitter, penetrating voice, and they remembered the gait, the long striding legs as they hastened up the steep path; even the pinched back often started up in their memory. And the next three or four days they sought him in the crowds that assembled to make the triumphal entry with Jesus into Jerusalem, but he was not to be seen; and if he had been among the people they could not fail to have discovered him. He is not here to welcome Jesus, Joseph muttered under his breath, and added: can it be that he has deserted to the other side?
He is a sort of other Jesus, Nicodemus said. But yonder Jesus comes riding on an ass, on which a crimson cloak has been laid. As Jesus passed Nicodemus and Joseph he waved his hand, and there was a smile on his lips and a light in his eye. He seems to have become suddenly young again, Joseph said. He is exalted, Nicodemus added sadly, by his following. And they counted about fifty men and women. Does he think that with these he will drive the Pharisees and Sadducees out of the Temple? he added. He is happy again, Joseph answered. See how he lifts up the fringe of the mantle they have laid upon the ass, and admires it. His face is happier than we have seen it for many a day. He likes the people to salute him as the Son of David. Yet he knows, Nicodemus said, that he is the son of Joseph the Carpenter. Ask him to beg the people not to call him the Son of David, Joseph pleaded. And, running after the ass, Nicodemus dared to say: ask the people not to call thee the Son of David, for it will go against thee in the end. But Jesus’ heart at that moment was swollen with pride, and he answered Nicodemus: what thou hearest to-day on earth was spoken in heaven before our Father bade the stars give light. Be not afraid for my sake. Remember that whomsoever my Father sends on earth to do his business, him will he watch over. He has no eyes for me, Joseph said sadly, for I left him to attend my father in sickness. And, taking Nicodemus’ arm, he drew him close, that he might more safely whisper that two men seemed to be searching in their garments as if for daggers. Nicodemus knew them to be hirelings in the pay of the priests. Look, he said, how their hands fidget for their daggers; the opportunity seems favourable now to stab him; but no, the crowd closes round his ass again, and the Zealots draw back. God saved Daniel from the flames and the lions, Joseph answered. But will he, Nicodemus returned, be able to save him from the priests?
CHAP. XVIII.
NICODEMUS INVITED JOSEPH to follow Jesus, saying that at a safe distance he would like to see him ride through the gates into the city; but Joseph, sorely troubled in his mind, could not answer him, and an hour later was hastening along the Jericho road, praying all the while that he might be given strength to keep the promise he had given to his father. But no sooner was he in Jericho than he began to feel ashamed of himself, and after resisting the impulse to return to Jesus for two days he yielded to it, and returned obediently the way he had come, uncertain whether shame of his cowardice or love was bringing him back. One or the other it must be, he said, as he came round the bend in the road into Bethany; and it was soon after passing through that village, somewhere about three o’clock, that he met his masons coming from Mount Scropas. Coming from my tomb, he said to himself, and, reining up his horse and speaking to them, he heard that his tomb was finished. We’ve chiselled a great stone to be rolled into the doorway, he heard one of the masons say; another uttered vauntingly that the stone closed the tomb perfectly, and Joseph was about to press his horse forward when the men called after him, and, gathering about his stirrup, they related that Jesus
of Nazareth had been tried and condemned by Pilate that morning, and was now hanging on a cross, a-top of Golgotha, one of the masons said: you can see him yourself, Master, if you be going that way, and between two thieves. One of them was to have been Jesus Bar-Abba, but the people cried out that he was to be released instead of Jesus. As Joseph repeated the words, Bar-Abba instead of Jesus, as if he only half understood them, the masons reminded him that it was the custom to deliver up a prisoner to the people at the time of the Passover. At the time of the Passover, he repeated.... At last, realising what had happened, his face became overwrought; his eyes and mouth testified to the grief he was suffering; and he pressed his spurs to his horse’s side, and would have been away beyond call if two of his workmen had not seized the bridle and almost forced the horse on his haunches. Loose my bridle, Joseph cried, astonished and beside himself. A moment with you, Master. Be careful to speak no word in his favour, and make no show of sympathy, else a Zealot’s knife will be in your back before evening, for they be seeking the Galileans everywhere, at the priests’ bidding. Before Joseph could break away he heard that the priests stirred up the people against Jesus, giving it forth against him that he had come to Jerusalem to burn down the Temple, and would set up another — built without the help of hands, of what materials he did not know, but not of stones nor wood, yet a Temple that will last for ever, the mason shouted after Joseph, who had stuck his spurs again into his horse and was riding full tilt towards a hill about half-a-mile from the city walls. On his way thither he met some of the populace — the remnant returning from the crucifixion — and he rode up the ascent at a gallop in the hope that he might be in time to save Jesus’ life.
He knew Pilate would grant him almost any favour he might ask; but within fifty yards of the crosses his heart began to fail him, for, whereas the thieves were straining their heads high in the air above the crossbar, Jesus’ head was sunk on to his chest. He died a while ago, the centurion said, and as soon as he was dead the multitude began to disperse, the Sabbath being at hand; and guessing Joseph to be a man of importance, he added: if you like I’ll make certain that he is dead, and, taking his spear from one of the soldiers, he would have plunged it into Jesus’ side, but Joseph, forgetful of the warning he had received, on no account to show sympathy with Jesus, laid his hand on the spear-head, saying: respect the dead. As you will, the centurion replied, and gave the spear back to the soldier, who returned to his comrades, it being his turn to cast the dice. They have cast dice, the centurion continued, and will divide the clothes of these men amongst them; and, hearing the words, one of the soldiers held up the rags that had come to him, while another spread upon the ground Jesus’ fine cloak, the one that Peter had bought for Jesus with money that Joseph gave to him. That he should see the cloak again, and on such an occasion, touched his heart. It was a humble incident in a cruel murder committed by a priest; and the thought crossed Joseph’s mind that he might purchase the cloak from the soldier, but, remembering the warning he had received, he did not ask for the cloak, nor did he once lift his eyes to Jesus’ face, lest the sight of it should wring his heart, and being overcome and helpless with grief, the priests and their hirelings might begin to suspect him.
He strove instead to call reason to his aid: Jesus’ life being spent, his duty was to obtain the body and bury it: far worse than the death he endured would be for his sacred body to be thrown into the common ditch with these malefactors. I know not how you can abide here, he said to the centurion; their groans make the heart faint. We shall break their bones presently; the Jews asked us to do this, for at six o’clock their Sabbath begins. And in this the thieves are lucky, for were it not for their Sabbath they would last on for three or four days: the first day is the worst day; afterwards the crucified sinks into unconsciousness, and I doubt if he suffers at all on the third day, and on the fourth day he dies. But, Sir, what may I do for you? I’ve come for the body of this man, Joseph answered; for, however erring, he was not a thief, and deserves decent burial. You can come with me to testify that I’ve buried it in a rock sepulchre, the stone of which yourself shall roll into the door. To which the centurion answered that he did not dare to deliver up the body of Jesus without an order from Pilate, though he was dead. Dead an hour or more, truly dead, he added. Pilate will not refuse his body to me, Joseph replied. Pilate and I are well acquainted; we are as friends are; you must have seen me at the Prætorium before now, coming to talk with the procurator about the transport of wheat from Moab, and other things.
These words filled the centurion with admiration, and, afraid to seem ignorant, he said he remembered having seen Joseph and knew him to be a friend of Pilate. Well then, come with me at once to Jerusalem, Joseph said coaxingly, and you’ll see that Pilate will order thee to deliver the dead unto me. But the centurion demurred, saying that his orders were not to leave the gibbets. Upon my own word, Pilate will not deliver up the body unless I bring you with me; I shall require you to testify of the death. So come with me. The unwillingness of the centurion was reduced to naught at the mention of a sum of money, and, giving orders to his soldiers that nothing was to be done during his absence, he walked beside Joseph’s horse into Jerusalem, telling to Joseph as they went the story of the arrest in the garden, the haling of Jesus before the High Priest, and the sending of him on to Pilate, who, though unwilling to confirm the sentence of death, was afraid of a riot, and had yielded to the people’s wish. The account of the scourging of Jesus in the hall of the palace, and the bribing of the soldiers by the Jews to make a mocking-stock of Jesus, was not finished when Joseph, who had been listening without hearing, said: here is the door.
And while they waited for the door to be opened, and after the doorkeeper had opened it, the centurion continued to tell his tale: how a purple cloak was thrown upon the shoulders of Jesus, a reed put into his hand, and a crown of thorns pressed upon his forehead. We wondered how it was that he said nothing. We have come to see his worship, Joseph interrupted; and the doorkeeper, who knew Joseph to be a friend of Pilate, was embarrassed, for Pilate had sent down an order that he would see no one again that day; but, like the centurion, he was amenable to money, and consented to take in Joseph’s name. There was no need to give him money, he would not have dared to refuse Pilate’s friend, the centurion said as they waited.
Word came back quickly that Joseph was to be admitted, and after begging Pilate to forgive him for intruding upon his privacy so late in the day, he put his request into words, saying straight away: I have come to ask for the body of Jesus, who was condemned to the cross at noon. At these words Pilate’s face became overcast, and he said that he regretted that Joseph had come to ask him for something he could not grant. It would have been pleasant to leave Jerusalem knowing that I never refused you anything, Joseph, for you are the one Jew for whom I have any respect, and, I may add, some affection. But why, Pilate, cannot you give me Jesus’ body? His body, is that what you ask for, Joseph? It seemed to me that you had come to ask me to undo the sentence that I pronounced to-day at noon. The body! Is Jesus dead then? The centurion answered for Joseph: yes, sir; he died to-day at the ninth hour. I put a lance into him to make sure, and blood and water came from his side. At which statement Joseph trembled, for he was acquiescing in a lie; but he did not dare to contradict the centurion, who was speaking in his favour for the sake of the money he had received, and in the hope of receiving more for the lie that he told. On the cross at noon and dead before the ninth hour! Pilate muttered: he could but bear the cross for three hours! After the scourging we gave him, Sir, the centurion answered, he was so weak and feeble that we had to pass on his cross to the shoulders of a Jew named Simon of Cyrene, who carried it to the top of the mount for him. If he be dead there is no reason for my not giving up the body, Pilate answered. Which I shall bury, Joseph replied, in my own sepulchre. What, Joseph, have you already ordered your sepulchre? To my eyes you do not look more than five or six and twenty years, and to my eyes you look as if y
ou would live for sixty more years at least; but you Jews never lose sight of death, as if it were the only good. We Romans think so too sometimes, but not so frequently as you.
