The Gospel According to the Son

by Norman Mailer

  It was as I said. It was exactly as I said. A man came forward from the congregation, and I could see that he frightened others, for he looked like a brigand. His nose was broken, and many scars were on his faceùan old brute with a spirit so unclean that the stench of his body came before him. Yet he cried out, "What have we to do with you, Yeshua of Nazareth? Are you come to destroy us?"

  And I saw that his features were thickened by the blows he had received in payment for the unrest within him. So I stood in my place as he approached. I stared into his eyes and said, "Hold your peace." And he did not move.

  I knew that a foul presence had to be drawn forth from his heart even as a small beast is torn from a burrow, and I knew that he had come to me so that this demon could be expelled. Nor did I need a magicians ring or aromatic herbs to place beneath his nostrils. With one breath, I said no more than: "Demon, come forth. Come out!"

  And an evil being tore out of his throat. It cried aloud in a bestial voice.

  This unclean spirit was invisible. Yet all could see that the presence had been cast forth into the midst of the synagogue. Empty benches fell over, and there was a wind on the floor, and dust. Then all such disturbance was gone.

  The good Jews of the synagogue were amazed. They were pious people, and their greatest uneasiness was to share a room with these unclean spirits. They did not know how to resist them. Therefore they desired no traffic with people who were ready to war with evil. They now said: "What new doctrine is this? Who does he command? Is it unclean?"

  In that moment I felt as if I had hurled a stone into the midst of the Sea of Galilee and ripples had traveled to every shore. Word of my deed would pass through all the regions about us.

  "Ask," I said to them who were in the synagogue.

  "Ask, and it shall be given unto you.

  "Seek, and you shall find.

  "Knock, and it shall be opened to you."

  My new friends Simon Peter and Andrew and James and John came out of the synagogue and went back with me to the house of Simon Peter.

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  So alive was I with new strength that when we came into Peter's house and his wife's mother was lying there with a fever, I had only to take her by the hand and the fever left. She rose from her bed and was delighted and cooked for us. We were well fed.

  In the evening, friends of Simon and Andrew and James and John came to the house with men and women who thought they were possessed of devils. I felt full of wonder and happiness at my new skill and cures came quickly. I had no more than to put my hand upon someone, and out came many small devils.

  Then, in the morning, Peter said to me, "People seek for you now, and I fear they will be many. I would warn you. They are curious. They wish to witness miracles. But will that give you the power to change men's souls?"

  His speech made me think of John the Baptist in the dungeon of Herod Antipas. Pain came like a knife to slash at my chest. For if the Lord gave me great talents, then I would be open to vengeance from those who hated the Lord. So I encouraged Peter and Andrew and James and John to leave with me. We would move on to other synagogues in Galilee and cast out devils there. It would be better to do the deed and leave each throng with wonder than to remain in one circle until such wonder became our noose. And I knew that now I was thinking with the wisdom of Peter.

  In the courtyard of another synagogue in another town, a leper came to me and asked, "Can you make me clean?" When I was silent, he said, "Until I am clean, I cannot enter the synagogue. Yet if I cannot enter, how can I become clean?"

  I did not know how to cure a leper. Yet I could not turn away from his eyes. So I whispered to the Lord, "Grant me this power on this day."

  Looking at the man, and being careful not to avert my eyes in horror, I was able to remember that it was written in the scrolls that God had said to Moses: "Cast your rod on the ground." And when he did, the rod became a serpent. So soon as it moved, Moses fled. But the Lord told him: "Do not run. Put forth thy hand and take it by the tail."

  Moses caught the serpent, and it became again a rod in his hand. The Lord said: "Put down thy hand unto thy bosom," and Moses did as he was told, but when he took his hand out, his fingers were as leprous as snow. Then God said, "Put back thy hand in thy bosom," and Moses did, and this time when he withdrew it, the hand was the same as his other flesh.

  Now I heard God say to me, "Do as much," and I knew that the power He had given to Moses would now be mine.

  So I put forth my hand and touched the leper on his breast and said no more than: "You will be clean."

  His leprosy left him. He was clean. This was so great a miracle that I told him: "Say nothing to anyone."

  But he went out and began to speak of his cure, and this caused such excitement that I knew it was time to go back to the desert before there was an inundation of lepers. Nor did I need the Lord to tell me that there might be grave obstacles to curing all of them, and all at once.

  Indeed, it did seem true to me that the diseases of man were ranked like the angels. To cure the highest disease, which is but another way of saying the lowest, was to ask the Holy Spirit to descend by ten more dimensions into the pit. And I was weak from curing my first leper. Could it be that God might be diminished as well? It was by the aid of the Holy Spirit, after all, that I had brought forth my cures. And what was such a Spirit but the bond between my Father and myself?

  I fled to the desert and told my followers that I would meet them in Capernaum.

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  For two nights I lay on the ground with snakes and scorpions and did my best to feel no fear. I would tell myself that John the Baptist could pick up a scorpion and talk to it and it did not sting, but I was not wholly successful. No scorpion stung me, yet I was afraid.

  My return to Capernaum proved better. The first man to speak was a centurion standing before me in armor, and he had an eagle on his helmet. This Roman was proud; who could say how many he had killed with his sword? Yet he was also polite, saying, "Lord, my best servant is sick with palsy."

  Without pause, I replied: "Let me come and heal him."

  To increase my respect, the centurion gave a surprising reply: "Lord, I am not worthy for you to come under my roof. But if you will speak the word, my servant can be healed. I am a man to command a soldier to go and he will go. To another, I say 'Come,' and he comes. So my sick servant will do what needs to be done if you give me the power to tell him."

  This centurion had tears in his eyes. I marveled at that, and turned to my followers: "Where have I found greater faith in anyone? Not in all of Galilee." And I said to the centurion, "Go! Your servant will be healed."

  And he was. So others told me. By this I knew that if all was well, I could send God's power to others, even if they were not Jews. I felt elation at this, and was pleased by the acclaim of those who welcomed me on the streets. Many paused to greet me, and the mouths of such men were painted red. It was then that Simon Peter told me how Capernaum, though only a small city, was favored by men who did not know women but other men. So I also learned that such men would cover their lips with the juice of red berries, and in the taverns they would speak of how the bravest of the Greeks were Spartans, who were great warriors but lived only to sleep in each other's arms.

  This brought forth a dispute among my fishermen, and Peter said: "Spartans also live with the sword. Whereas these men of Capernaum live with the coloring that women choose for their lips."

  Nonetheless, I felt affection for my new followers. They were tender in spirit, and would congregate beneath a tree, because they were not welcome in the temple. I was gentle with them.

  In the synagogue, however, I spoke of the incarceration of John the Baptist in the dungeon of Machaerus. Since he was all but with me, I preached with the clarity that comes when no word must search for the next. And more men gathered each day at the synagogue, until there was no bench to receive them, not even in the vestibule or outside the door. One day four men tried to bring in a poor man w
ho was paralyzed in every limb, but they could not come near the door because of the crowd. In desperation, these four men took a ladder and climbed to the roof, where they broke a hole between two rafters in order to lower the sick man (and his bed) down to where I spoke. I knew that if his bearers felt such concern for him, then the man must be worthy. Without pause I said: "Thy sins be forgiven thee." And he rose from his bed. I knew why. Those who came to me had undergone much torment and so were ready to recognize the weight of their sin. Thereby, they were ready to be cured. This paralyzed man had become equal in his suffering to the evil he had wrought, and so I could forgive him, and without hesitation.

  The scribes were affronted. I heard one say, "Why does Jesus speak blasphemies? Who can forgive sins? God only."

  I understood then that I was speaking too openly. Yet it was difficult to be patient. The pious were becoming noxious now. The odor of their sanctity was close to the smell of shellfish when such creatures expire on the shore of the sea that once nourished them.

  Therefore, when asked how I could dare forgive sins, I said: "Why seek to reason? The man was brought to me paralyzed, yet afterward he could carry his bed out of the synagogue; if he staggered, it was only by a little." So they were much offended.

  Each day I came to understand a little more of why the Lord had chosen me. I could see how my Fathers patience would be tried with His creation. We consumed His charity and kept repeating our sins. So He must need someone as simple as myself to listen to men's errors. Even as I had known a void in my heart while I fasted, so could I now comprehend those waste-places in the hearts of others where a good opinion of oneself cannot be kept, not even in contemplating one's good deeds. The soul can feel empty before the memory of its sins. How much compassion did I feel in that moment for those who sin! And I prayed that the Lord would always speak through me.

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  I began to see my need for disciples who would follow me every day and work at tasks where my ability was small. When I saw Levi sitting at the customshouse, I said: "Follow me," because he had a good and cunning face, and I had need of the light in his eye.

  Levi came with us. Nor did I concern myself that he was a tax collector. But soon I learned that few men were as unpopular as those who worked in customshouses gathering taxes for Romans. All the same, I had but one measure for a sinner: Was there some promise of happiness in his countenance? Even a man who cheated others or worked for Romans could reveal more of God to me than I would find in those who were sinless but downcast.

  Moreover, I had need of twelve men, one for each of the twelve tribes of Israel, twelve who could look back into my eyes and allow me to see what was in their hearts.

  There was one for whom I could not say that, and he was Judas Iscariot. With his dark beard, he was handsome. I wished him to be among my twelve even if I could not see what was in his heart. His eyes were too full of fire. Indeed, I felt blinded by the blaze of his spirit. Notwithstanding, I welcomed him. He claimed to love the poor, saying that he had lived among the rich long enough to despise them. His father was rich, and Judas said that he knew the deceits of the powerful, and all their foul arts. So I knew that he could teach me much more, even though I had to wonder whether he might be Satan's gift to me. But I did not stay long with such a concern. Other matters pressed more.

  I lived among those twelve men who were ready to follow me, and hoped that I could teach some of them how to cast out demons, for then I could send them forth to preach. To do that, however, they needed to come closer to me. I could rely on Simon Peter, but I could not as yet be as certain of the sons of Zebedee, James and John, nor of Andrew and Philip and Bartholomew and Thomas, and another named James, and Thaddeus, and Simon the Canaanite and Judas Iscariot, of whom I have spoken. He, I knew, could not be taught. He was too proud. Last of all was the publican Levi, who was also called Matthew, but since he was not the same Matthew who wrote a gospel, let him remain as Levi.

  In choosing these disciples I aroused much dissatisfaction among the Pharisees. When I would eat meat in the house of Levi, many sinners also sat with us, and some were tax collectors. Heavy in their hearts that they worked for the Romans, they were full of shame before their fellow Jews. So they had need of me.

  Yet when the scribes and Pharisees saw us eating together, they said: "How can he mingle with these dregs?" I was not eager to increase the absence of good feeling that existed already between these Pharisees of Capernaum and myself, so I answered: "They that are whole have no need of the physician. They that are sick need much. I am not here to call the righteous to repentance but the sinners."

  I debated how to tell these Pharisees that sinners, having encountered the Evil Spirit, may even come to feel repugnance for their old appetites, whereas the pious think only of protecting themselves from the temptations of Satan, so they fester within.

  Besides, I was happy to eat with sinners. Some of Levi's friends were unwashed (for Levi was loyal to poor friends), yet by coming to know such people, I began to wonder about the godlessness of many who were rich. They did not use their wealth to make others happy, whereas here, at the table of Levi, among these poor sinners, I saw how there might be much petty injury each could do to another, yet there was also much simple pity that they would feel for those beside them. So the faces of the poor at Levi's table had a dignity like the grain of unpolished wood after it has been exposed to the warmth and wrath of sun and rain.

  I also knew that such an argument would hardly satisfy the Pharisees. They would say: "The disciples of John the Baptist fasted. Why don't your people do the same?" And so pious were their voices that at night I would brood over those Jews who spoke for my religion and drove away sinners.

  But there were many questions for me. Why did I seek out men who would rather eat and drink than pray? Was it that those who boasted of how they were children of Abraham did not believe that more would be demanded of them than good attendance at the synagogue? I would tell myself that a feast was being prepared in heaven where the pious would be cast out. Only the poor and the sinful would be invited to the banquet. And with that I would drink my wine and wonder at how much I drank. In my family, wine had been reserved for solemn occasions. Now we drank at every meal.

  These publicans were rarely solemn. Still, I trusted the good spirit between us. It was not a time to fast. There was much to prepare for the Lord. To fast would make us gloomy, and we would become like those who praise God with their words but remain so afraid of other men that they can never praise Him by bold deeds.

  Such were my thoughts while drinking wine. I could bring salvation to sinners. But my head whirled with vertigo. There was so little time, and so many obstacles to foresee. What of the pagan who might seek baptism? Would he be ready to cast out his idols? Would his own family then cast him out?

  These differences with the Pharisees of Capernaum were made worse when my publicans walked through the fields on the Sabbath and plucked ears of corn. The Pharisees said: "To harvest on this day is not lawful." And when I answered, my voice was in a race with my caution, yet my words gained the victory. I said: "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath."

  On the next Sabbath, when I entered the synagogue a laborer was there and he had a withered hand. Many Pharisees, much aroused, watched to see if I would heal him. I could see that they were waiting to accuse me, so I thought to say no to this laborer.

  As soon as he spoke, however, I was helpless. He said: "I used to be a stonemason, but then my fingers were smashed. I plead with you, Yeshua, give me back a good hand and then I will not have to beg for my family's food."

  I could not refuse. I said to him: "Stand forth."

  I asked of the congregation, "Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath?"

  No one could answer. They did not have the courage to say "Cure him." The hardness of their hearts (and no heart is so hard as the timid heart) infuriated me. I spoke to the man, saying: "Stretch forth your hand," and when he did, I did not
even have to touch it; at once I could see how his hand was restored as whole as the other. Yet I also felt anguish. Most of the Pharisees left in outrage. I had to conclude that a time might come when I would go to war with some of my own people.

  Later that night, a Pharisee from the synagogue who knew an officer of Herod Antipas living in Capernaum told Peter that Herod was now considering whether this Yeshua of Nazareth ought to be stilled. I decided that I would do well to look for a cave on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. For Yeshua of Nazareth would not seem the Son of God to the officers of Herod, only a poor Jew.

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  Yet I was not alone. My disciples accompanied me, and with them came many others. The word had passed through the hills and valleys of Galilee, even into the mountains. I, however, did not feel ready to speak. My disciples were now obliged to comport themselves as soldiers and become my guard. Nonetheless, I could feel the desire of these people to touch me, and I gave way until they were too many and I lost the power to cure. Truth, their fingers so implored my flesh that I had to live with my own bruises when day was done.

  I told my disciples to find a small ship and let it wait in a cove of the Sea of Galilee. Once on board I would be near shore but apart, and thereby could preach from the prow, only returning to land long enough to lay hands on a few.

  While waiting, I went up onto a mountain. Many followed. I came down by another path to a town near Capernaum and entered a house where I was welcome. But another multitude surrounded this house. There were even two scribes from Jerusalem among them.

  Before long I heard that one of these scribes had said to another, "Since he is the prince of devils, Beelzebub is able to cast out other devils." The danger I had been expecting was near. Even as I was earning more and more knowledge of how to cure, so was a plague of ill spirit spreading. The righteous could only see my efforts as the Devil's labor: For how could a modest man like me command miracles? Already many were saying that I was ready to deny the Ten Commandments and the myriad of laws surrounding them. Whereas they, good Pharisees, prayed for a world where all were law-abiding. So I knew that I must speak to the two scribes from Jerusalem. And when I looked into their eyes, I had hope; they appeared to be wise.