Jesus On Mars

by Philip José Farmer

  Matthias had been one of the Purishim, the 'separatists', of the Pharisees. Jesus had cursed the Pharisees and the rival party, the Sadducees. But the maledictions against the Pharisees had been only applied to the hypocrites among them. Unlike their rivals the Sadducees, they believed in the resurrection and the angels, which Jesus also believed in. And though they were stricter than he, still they admitted that the laws of Moses were subject to evolution. They wouldn't blindly follow them if they disagreed with reason or conscience.

  When the Pharisees rebuked Jesus for breaking the Sabbath or for sitting down to eat with tax-collectors and other sinners, and for not washing his hands before taking a meal he had replied, 'The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.'

  This was a principle that, in theory at least, the Pharisees could have agreed with. Their reply to Jesus was not recorded in the New Testament, but Matthias said that in time many of his interrogators came to agree with him on this point.

  The Pharisees were also deeply concerned about salvation. Not just the salvation of the Jews, but the salvation of all humanity. Eventually, they believed, all Gentiles would accept the Law and have but one God, though the Law would be that of Moses and God would be Yahweh. The nation of Israel would be foremost of all, an elder and wiser brother. Also, the Pharisees, unlike the other sects, believed in vigorous proselytising and converting the pagans to Judaism.

  Jesus, though not a Pharisee, did agree with many of their tenets and practices. For a time, he had been an Essene, according to Matthias, but he had found the community around Qumran too strict, lacking in the humanity of those who truly loved' the sons of Adam and Eve. So he had departed.

  Orme, unable to read Matthias's book swiftly enough to finish it before the coming great event, had insisted that Bronski read it aloud to him. The Frenchman had done so, though he stopped now and then to explain difficult passages.

  When the end was reached, Orme had shaken his head. And he'd said, 'I'm more confused than ever. Matthias was a disciple and an apostle, and he knew Jesus intimately, accompanied him throughout Palestine. He should be giving the straight stuff, since his account hasn't been tampered with. He says nothing of the virgin birth and he doesn't know the doctrine that Christ's death was an atonement for the sins of mankind and therefore their route to salvation. He says nothing of the miracles which the Biblical writers say he performed. Apparently, he didn't see them, though he was with Jesus much of the time. He does say that he heard stories about the miracles after Jesus had died. But he discounts them, since he knew they weren't true.

  'His account of the trial before Pilate differs considerably from that in the Gospels. And he was there. He says Pilate didn't wash his hands of the whole affair...'

  'That,' Bronski said, 'was a reconstruction by later writers who wanted to fix the blame entirely on the Jews. That is, those Jews who refused to accept him as the Messiah and as the parthenogenetic offspring of God and Mary.'

  'Yeah, I know. No miracles while Jesus was on Earth. But after they are forced to land on Mars and to dig in, then Jesus appears and Matthias instantly recognises him. And then Jesus performs some miracles. Then...'

  'That,' Bronski said, 'explains why the Krsh were converted to Judaism.'

  'They wouldn't have accepted them without rigorously produced scientific evidence,' Orme said. 'So what am I to think?'

  'Wait and see what happens.'

  'You seem to be ready, whatever happens,' Shirazi said. His tone was slightly scornful.

  Three weeks before, Bronski had quit shaving, and he had started to grow sidelocks. Instead of going to bed when Orme did, he would sit up in the living room reading the Pentateuch in Hebrew, a direct descendant of the copy which Matthias had brought with him from Earth. Orme had asked him why he was doing all this.

  'This isn't Palestine, and I haven't returned to the ways of my forefathers. Not yet. Nor am I anything but an agnostic. But... well... I have had this strange feeling that I've returned home after a long, painful voyage. Home! On Mars! There's no explaining it now. Maybe I never will be able to. Still... here I am, like Ruth standing in the alien corn, and the corn doesn't look so alien.'

  'Be sure it's not corny,' Orme said.

  'Yes. Perhaps it is pride, an unwillingness to admit that I've been wrong, to destroy my self-image utterly, that keeps me from making the final step. Anyway, even if I went to the synagogue, I wouldn't be admitted. I'd have to acknowledge that Yeshua' is indeed the Messiah. I don't know about that... yet.'

  Shirazi had observed all this, but until now he had said nothing to Bronski. He was as much in a quandry as the others. Perhaps more so. He was a Muslim, though not particularly devout. Like his three companions, he'd been shocked to discover that Mars was a Jewish domain. After all, if they'd guessed who might be its inhabitants, they would never have included this possibility in the list. He might have been expected to be uneasy in a place where he was the only Muslim among a million Jews. But these people had never heard of his religion until he had arrived. Besides, Shirazi was a well-educated, urbane man who seldom failed to meld smoothly into any society in which he found himself. In his native land, though, he had got into trouble because of his protests against its censorship policy and its police methods.

  Moreover, in some respects the Martian ways paralleled those of his country. The men were circumcised; the women were expected to choose motherhood as their first career; there were certain strict dietary prohibitions. There were certain allotted periods for public prayer, and the Sabbath was well observed.

  Also, here Jesus was regarded as a prophet, though the attitude differed from that of the Muslims. These held Jesus in high esteem, but they ranked him as second to Mohammed, whereas here Jesus was the last and the greatest of a line starting with Abraham. The prophet of Islam, Mohammed, was a total nonentity.

  Despite the differences, there were enough similarities to make the Iranian feel somewhat at home. And here there was no tension between Muslim and Jew because the Jew still occupied Palestine.

  But when it became obvious to Shirazi that Bronski was thinking about 'relapsing', as he put it, into orthodox Judaism he became sarcastic. He'd even hinted that Bronski was an opportunist.

  'Besides,' he'd once said during a heated but restrained exchange with the Frenchman, 'you won't really be a Jew. You'll be a Christian.'

  'Not so,' Bronski had replied. 'A Christian is one who believes that Jesus is the virgin-begotten child of God and Mary and that he was sent to atone for the sins of the world, to be the scapegoat of ancient Hebrew custom. The Martians regard Jesus as their Messiah, and that is all. Anyway, you Muslims, if you believe Mohammed, must believe in Jesus's virgin birth. It is stated in the Koran that He was indeed born of the virgin Mary. Though Mohammed did say that Jesus was not really crucified. He said that it was a phantom, a ghostly similitude of Jesus, that was nailed to the cross and appeared to die.'

  Surprisingly, Shirazi had laughed, and some of the tension had evaporated.

  'In the first place, I've met many Christians who disbelieve the virgin-birth story. They think it's a myth, that Jesus was conceived just as you and I were. He was only a man, though the greatest. And there are many Muslims who take certain stories in the Koran in a symbolic or pedagogic sense. I'm one of them.

  'So, when you speak of a person as a Muslim or Christian, you must define what sort of Muslim or Christian he is. However, this is getting us nowhere. If I've said anything to offend you, I'm sorry. But I cannot understand why a highly intelligent, highly educated man can be tempted to regress to a primitive state of religion.'

  Bronski had thrown his hands up in the air and walked out.

  As he went through the door, he had shouted, 'I'm not tempted! There is no temptation! Because this isn't a primitive religion!'

  Now, when Shirazi said that Bronski seemed to be ready for any contingency, he was hinting again that Bronski was using protective coloration. So far, he had not said that possibly
Bronski was a traitor to Earth.

  'What you don't seem to understand,' Bronski said, 'is that religion is a choice, not of the intellect, but of the spirit. By spirit I mean the irrational being of a person. But I am not using "irrational" in a disparaging sense. The irrational is that part of a man that yearns for immortality despite the evidence of his intellect that says there is none. It also yearns for the Creator, his Father, for whom there is much evidence of existence. It acknowledges a Power behind all powers. It is as much a person as his brain, and without it a human being is not truly human. He may be humane, but he is not thoroughly human. That is because...'

  Orme said, 'Look. This has gone far enough. You two can continue this some other time. Right now we have to get this show together. We don't have much time left.'

  Madeleine said, 'I think you've having a nervous breakdown, Avram.'

  'That's enough of that!' Orme said. 'We're all under a hell of a strain. And I'm not sure that Earth won't think we're crazy when they see this. But we have to tell them what is. So, let's get to work.'

  Since the viewers on Earth knew what had happened up to the moment that the tunnel door had shut on Orme and Bronski, it was decided to take it from there. The Martians had photographed the two being carried unconscious to their prison. They also had holograms of everything significant that had taken place since - Orme suspected they had recordings of much of the insignificant, too - so the four could pick what they wished to show.

  They took turns narrating the segments, in many of which :hey were active participants. Or perhaps not so active, since :hey were being conducted on tours or being taught by the Martians. By the time they were finished, they had what they considered a good overall picture of Martian life and of their experiences since they'd been here.

  Of course, Earth would have a thousand questions. These wouldn't be answered, but what could you do in four hours? Besides, many of the questions would have answers which they did not yet know.

  'But we should know some of them tomorrow,' Orme said.

  'Yes, but they'll generate even more questions, which we won't be able to answer,' Bronski said.

  They went to bed late that night, tired out but unable to get to sleep. All had the feeling that the morning would bring the most important day of their life.

  Finally, Orme fell asleep, Bronski having subsided into a gentle snoring. But he awoke an hour later. Someone, he felt, had been standing by his bedside.

  12

  'Tomorrow's the Day,' Orme said.

  The four Terrestrials were sitting in the living room of the Shirazis. After supper, they had dropped the cassette - actually a cube about an inch across - into the receptacle on the side of the TV set. They had watched, for the fourth time, the programme they'd put together. As the Martians had promised, little of it was censored. The last half hour had been made by their hosts, and this was composed in the main of films of Jesus's activities when he 'visited'. There were also some scenes of Earth life taken by the Krsh about 50 AD, of the space fight with the Sons of Darkness, and of the digging into Mars after the Krsh's vessel had crashlanded.

  The programme ended with Hfathon speaking briefly in Greek except for his final word.

  'This is all true. We will communicate with you again in a few days. Shalom.'

  Orme could imagine the shock, the consternation, the bewilderment, the frustration on Earth. Of course, there would be many who would deny the validity of the programme. They would denounce it as a hoax perpetrated by the Martians, by their own government, or by some other government. However, those in authority would have to accept that, whatever the content of the transmission, it had originated from Mars. Also, the programme had been repeated enough times to ensure that both hemispheres of Earth received it.

  'Yes, tomorrow,' Bronski said gloomily.

  Madeleine Danton laughed, though not merrily.

  'You're afraid that you're going to have to believe in Christ, aren't you? You, the agnostic, will see and touch and hear, and therefore have to believe! I say, nonsense! It's a charade put on by the Martians for some sinister purposes of their own!'

  'You're a scientist,' Bronski said, 'but you're not thinking like one. I believe that, even if the evidence becomes overwhelming, 100 per cent authenticated, you'd still reject it. You'd allow your emotional, irrational attitude to control you.'

  'And you,' she said, 'aren't even waiting until the evidence is in. You're ready to believe!'

  He shook his head. 'No, I'm not. But all that's happened so far... well... you must admit it's been totally unexpected, it's fantastic, and yet it's happened. Do you doubt for one minute that Matthias did exist, and that Matthias knew Jesus very well indeed? Or that a person called Jesus does dwell in that sun?'

  Madeleine said, 'I admit nothing. How can I? I haven't had a chance to examine the evidence in a scientific manner.'

  'How can you?' Nadir Shirazi said. He threw his hands up. 'This is something to which science can't be applied.'

  'Oh, yes it can!' Madeleine said, and at this moment Orme interrupted.

  'It's useless to argue about what might happen. Why don't we shelve speculation now, since it's just going to make everybody angry. I'm going out to watch the celebration. Anyone want to join me?'

  Bronski and Shirazi said they'd like to. Madeleine refused, saying she was tired. Evidently she wanted the Iranian to stay, too, but she would not say so. He just looked at her and shrugged. Orme wondered how long they'd be able to stay together. Though he hadn't witnessed any arguments, he had noticed a coolness between them lately, one interspersed with restrained disagreements.

  'I'll be back early,' Nadir said.

  This time, she shrugged.

  He laughed, and he followed the other two out.

  Once outside the well-insulated house, they could hear the music and the shouting and laughter several blocks away. They walked to the big square of the village, lit by hundreds of torches, where many acquaintances grabbed them and offered them wine and food. Orme drank several glasses and then joined in the dancing. This was very active, involving much whirling and kicking and hopping. It reminded him more of Russian peasant dancing than Israeli, and the music was, literally, unearthly, since it was derived from that of the Krsh.

  After an hour he was worn out, though the lesser gravity should have permitted him to continue longer. Perhaps it was all the wine he drank, since many of the dances also required the participants to leap around without spilling the wine, and at certain pauses everybody downed their drinks and then people ran and refilled them. Or perhaps it was the nervous strain he'd been under. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. Nightmares, visions of the Last Judgement, of mysterious faceless figures pointing their fingers accusingly at him, of groping through a fog and suddenly finding himself on the edge of an abyss, had filled his nights. And more than once he'd been awakened by the feeling that someone had been standing by his bed.

  Panting, he'd walked away. 'I've had it! I'm going home!'

  The others decided to retire, too. But as they made their way through the noisy throng, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked into Gulthilo's blue eyes.

  'What're you doing here?' he said. Then, 'I'm sorry to speak so abruptly. But you startled me. You're so far from your village.'

  She smiled and moved closer to him so he could hear her above the din.

  'I'm being bold and brash again. I came here just to be with you.'

  'What'll your family say?'

  'They don't own me. Would you like to dance with me?'

  Orme looked at his colleagues, who were standing a few feet away.

  'You guys go on!' he shouted. 'Avram, don't wait up for me!'

  Bronski, frowning, walked up to him.

  'Richard, don't get into any trouble. You know the moral code. They...'

  'I can take care of myself,' he said. 'You go on. I'll be all right.'

  Bronski, still looking grave, walked off, said something to Shirazi, and the
y left, though not without some backward glances.

  'I'm too pooped out to dance,' he said to the woman. 'Maybe we could just sit down and talk.'

  Gulthilo took his hand and led him through the crowd. When they were out of the square, she stopped, gracefully sat down on to the grass of a front yard under a tree, and said, 'Sit with me.'

  He did so, but he looked worriedly around him. There were at least a dozen couples sitting or lying nearby in the shadows. From what he could see of one, he imagined that their marriage would have to be announced soon.

  She kissed him on his cheek and he almost jumped.

  'Don't be so nervous, Richard,' she whispered. 'I'm not going to seduce you.' She laughed softly. 'Not that I would mind if you seduced me.'

  'Don't talk that way,' he said. 'I'm very vulnerable. It wouldn't take much, you know. But here, well, you're supposed to be in love when you, ah, lie with a woman. I think you're very beautiful, very attractive, but... I'm not in love with you.'

  She didn't draw away from him.

  'Thanks for being frank. How could you be in love with me when we've only been together once for a short time? But,' she paused, drew in her breath sharply, and said, 'I think I'm in love with you.'

  The sweat pouring down his face was not just from dancing. Nor was the shaking entirely caused by over-exertion. He put his arm around her shoulders but dropped it after a few seconds.

  'I don't think we should be so close. I need cooling off, not heating up.'

  She laughed again.

  'But if we mated, you'd be doing it because of passion, for lust, right?'

  'Well, I don't really know. What the hell kind of conversation is this? It's unbelievable. Are you drunk?'

  'No, I've only had four glasses of wine in the past two hours. And those were in my village. I just left the festivities there, without a word, and I drove here. It wasn't just on impulse. I'd been thinking about you all day, but I had to work up my courage to the point where I could do what I wanted to do.'