Lights in a Western Sky

by Roger Curtis

  Time was not material. They would wait in the garden. He knew they would wait as long as it took. He had to fulfil his role because, had it not been needed, they would surely have opted to find safety.

  Two men with destinies: that was all there was to it.

  Judas took the purse from his pocket, tossed it into the air and caught it with a snap of the wrist. The course was clear because he realised at last he was no longer a party to the decision.

  A light rain began to fall as he set off back into the higher quarters of the city.

  Outside the house of the High Priest he waited for many minutes in the darkness and freshening wind. Not until his tears had ceased to flow did he enter.

  Judas Thomas

  The door inched open, then a fraction more. Thomas caught sight of a woman’s eye before her head turned from him and the door opened fully. Not a word was said as he followed the cloaked figure up the stairs to a landing, then into a tiny apparently windowless room with floor to ceiling sackcloth drapes at the rear. The sparse furnishings included a table, two chairs and a stand bearing a number of parchment rolls and codices.

  Reading at the table was Thomas’ brother, James, leader of the Nazirite community in Jerusalem. The unkempt figure in a brown cloth tunic rose to greet him, the frowns at his forehead transforming as if by magic into an expression of delight. The woman said, ‘Your visitor, Father,’ bowed slightly and left the room. It seemed to Thomas that all the while she had deliberately avoided looking at him.

  ‘Brother Judas Thomas!’

  ‘Brother James!’ Lowering his voice and keeping a straight face, Thomas said, ‘Was that a fraternal or an ecclesiastical greeting?’

  For a second James didn’t know how to respond, then broke into a grin. ‘You haven’t changed, have you? I thought after eight years you would have grown up at last.’

  ‘Can it really be that long?’

  ‘At least. But Jerusalem welcomes you, and I thank you for coming.’

  ‘But you haven’t answered my question. Your invitation hinted at a family matter.’

  ‘It’s perhaps a bit of both. But first things first. You are well, obviously. Our brother Joses likewise?’

  ‘He is, as are Miriam and the three children. They send their greetings.’

  ‘And the family business?’

  ‘In Galilee? I thought yours here was the family business.’

  ‘This? Well, I’ve done my utmost to involve you all but…’

  ‘And we are all contrite. But at home the firm’s…’ With his hand he signalled so-so. ‘Actually it’s been saved by a bit of work in the town. Some stonework in the amphitheatre. And – you’ll appreciate this – you can see it from the village.’

  ‘But Sepphoris is three miles from Nazareth.’

  ‘True. But the evening sunlight catches the new stone. You should come to Galilee to see it. And other things.’

  ‘I will, I will.’ James paused to engage Thomas’ gaze. ‘Do you remember when we three – Jesus, you and me – used to slip away as darkness was falling to explore the big city?’

  ‘And crept about in the shadows lest we village urchins would be mistaken for thieves.’

  ‘You’re sure we weren’t? In a very minor way, of course. I remember the oranges in the gardens of the Via Maxima were particularly delicious.’

  ‘How we ran! And then the girls. James, are you sure you want to pursue this?’

  ‘You’re right. I’m supposed to be above reproach. Funny, though, how we followed him, even then. And though I was the middle one I always seemed the odd one out.’

  ‘That never occurred to me.’

  ‘Because you and Jesus were so alike. You, Thomas, were tall for your age – not like me – and you both had our father’s hang-dog expression. When it suited you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Isn’t that why they nicknamed you Thomas? Judas Thomas – Judas the Twin. Jesus’ twin.’

  ‘New to me. But if people thought we were twins I could never hold my own against him. Even then there was something of the magician about him. We’d argue and he’d win a point. Then he’d hold you with those piercing eyes…’

  ‘Just like yours.’

  ‘…and relish the advantage. But only for a second. Then his face would crease into a smile and he’d slap your shoulder. But not a trace of malice there. That was curious.’

  ‘But something was driving him, even then.’

  ‘He could be cunning, too.’

  ‘Surely not.’

  ‘Like – here’s an example. He’d say casually, the chickens laid three eggs this morning. Then that evening he’d challenge you to say which cup he’d hidden a stone under. And you’d go, one, two, three, without realising it. And there it was.’

  ‘That was thirty years ago, Thomas. And we still miss him.’

  ‘So that’s why you must come to Galilee. Imagine visiting all the old haunts.’

  James ran his fingers through his tangled hair. ‘But look at me – I’d be arrested as a vagrant. Perhaps when it’s safe to leave here.’

  ‘I thought things had gone quiet.’

  ‘Superficially. But there’s trouble brewing. Look out of the window.’

  ‘Roman soldiers.’

  ‘They’ve doubled the fortress guard. It’s mostly paranoia, of course. They think it’s time something happened. And once they start thinking that… it will.’

  ‘I thought the new procurator was quite tolerant.’

  ‘Compared with Pilatus, I daresay he is. But being tolerant implies something to be tolerant towards.’

  ‘The high priest in the line of fire?’

  ‘They don’t give a toss about the high priest. He can gorge himself on pigs blood, so long as they can control things through him. But any dissent within the Jewish ranks – that’s a potential flash-point. And you know our appetite for dissent.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  James threw up his hands in mock alarm. ‘But where’s my hospitality? I’m sure I asked Mary to prepare some refreshment.’ He clapped his hands together. Mary, who must have been waiting at the door, entered. ‘Did you forget?’ he said, not unkindly.

  ‘Oh… no.’

  ‘I think probably yes.’

  Thomas had to strain to hear her reply: ‘Yes, then. Sorry, Father.’ She left the room and returned with cups and biscuits on a tray. Then, without looking at them, went out again and closed the door.

  ‘You recognise her?’ James said.

  ‘James, I’ve not been in this house for eight years.’

  ‘She goes back even longer than that. I’ll tell you shortly. A troubled soul, but devout. And devoted to me.’

  ‘As are many others, so I’m told.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You’ve kept the community together.’

  ‘Not easily. And it’s… well… grieved me that I’ve never been able to tempt you back into the fold – with your obvious… connections.’

  ‘There have been… reasons.’

  ‘Well, I suppose a roomful of us praying and singing psalms is not that much of a draw. Last week I had Paul here. His first visit for goodness knows how long – almost as bad as you. He had the grace to call us the Jerusalem Church, but I could see that he was itching to call us the errant Jerusalem branch of his Messianic Church.’

  ‘You’re exaggerating, surely.’

  ‘Maybe. But it does lead us back to why I’ve asked you here, Thomas.’

  ‘Not brotherly love, then?’

  ‘Ye..es. But not in the way you think.’ He paused to take a sip from his cup. ‘What that man Paul has achieved is tremendous. But… is it what our dear brother intended? Did you ever hear him say we should operate outside the Jewish f
aith, circumvent our dietary laws and circumcision? Oh, I know Paul pays lip service at the moment, but the conversions are incomplete. And Simon Peter, who’s visited these places, has been weak in countering it, as I told him to his face. We’re on divergent paths, Thomas, and I’m mightily unhappy about it.’

  ‘I thought Jesus made specific provision for you to be entrusted with our community. I was there, I heard it. Surely the implication is that…’

  ‘I’d got it right. Well, apparently not.’

  James reached across to take a couple of documents from the stand. Look at these. Copies of Paul’s letters to the community in Antioch. Where they’ve started calling themselves ‘Christians’ would you believe. But that’s by the way.’

  Thomas took one of the letters. ‘I see you’ve marked one of the passages.’

  ‘Read it.’

  ‘Mm, mm mm… raised up on the third day in accordance with the scriptures; that he was seen by Peter, then by the Twelve: after that on one occasion by more than five hundred brothers… Five hundred? On one occasion?

  ‘Give or take a few hundred. Thomas, I’m beating about the bush because I don’t quite know how to come to the point; because the issue is so… momentous. Listen. Paul’s teaching is founded on belief in the resurrection of our brother, just as he – that’s to say, Jesus – told us it should be. The risen Christ, isn’t that what Paul calls him? We in the Jerusalem community believe the same. But whereas Paul’s Jesus is already here, in metaphysical form, available, as it were, to anybody, we…’

  ‘… are still waiting. The kingdom of God hasn’t exactly… arrived. Is that what you mean?’

  ‘Well, has it? Can it still? Oh, this is awful. I didn’t mean to involve you like this, to seed you mind with doubts. Or nurture them in my own for that matter. Perhaps it’s best if we stop this discussion.’ He paused to take another sip of water. ‘The thing is, Thomas, we Jerusalem brethren can muddle on within the framework of the Jewish faith. All our members go daily to the Temple. They observe the Law. It’s their life. Does it matter much now, to them, whether the coming has been and gone, or has never happened?’

  ‘Or whether Jesus really was the Messiah?’

  James turned to face him, deeply perplexed. ‘That’s a step too far, but I want reassurance.’

  Thomas was incredulous. ‘From me?’

  ‘You knew him as a brother, understood him, probably better than any of us.’

  ‘So you want to question the past – is that right? I can tell you for a fact…’

  James clapped his hands. ‘Ha, that could be him speaking.’

  ‘… that it’s not wise, James.’

  ‘Whatever the issues, however difficult they may be, the bottom line is that we have to be honest with ourselves. Would you agree with that?’

  ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘Do you recall that awful day in Galilee when the message came that he was heading for Jerusalem? I was a humble rabbi in Sepphoris. You, if I remember, were nowhere to be found.’

  ‘I had work in Tiberias – the news reached me later.’

  ‘Whatever.’ James was finding it difficult to recount something that was painful for him. ‘I left as soon as I could, but when I got here… all was over. I went to Bethany. Deserted, but a watchman directed me here, to this house, where I found a young priest called John and a bevy of women, including our mother. The Twelve, it seems, had fled. Terrified out of their wits.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t have been?’

  ‘I spent days trying to piece together what had happened. I walked the route taken by Jesus and the cross. I even spent a night in that dreadful tomb, where he’d been, thinking that if there was to be contact beyond the grave that would be the place. Again, nothing.’ He paused. ‘Then rumours began to circulate, that he’d been seen. Reluctantly, I believed the ramblings – as I saw them then – of his companion, the Mary from Magdala, who thought she’d seen him alive in the tomb. The rest is common knowledge, and the fact of the resurrection is incorporated into our faith.’

  Thomas was guarded. ‘You looked at all… rational… explanations?’

  ‘I believed so. Until, that is, a few weeks ago. I had business in Tiberias and got talking to an old fisherman there. A thought flashed through my mind that was so bizarre I discounted it immediately. But it’s never left me. That’s why you’re here.’

  ‘Can you share… that thought?’

  ‘Maybe not just yet. See if you come to the same conclusion. It’s probably premature senility, Thomas.’ Then he added, mocking himself, ‘Or weight of responsibility.’

  ‘So where to begin?’

  ‘Tomorrow. We’ll walk the path he took, to Golgotha and the tomb.’

  ‘It still exists?’

  ‘Fortunately no longer as a visitor attraction.’

  ‘Quite a trudge up there, I recall.’

  ‘Nonsense, Thomas. That’s settled, then. Before you go, let me show you something.’ James pulled back the drapes on the back wall to reveal a large sunlit room overlooking the city through an arched portico. A long table occupied the centre of the room. James and Thomas stood within the threshold. ‘When you came before… did they show you this?’

  Thomas said guardedly, ‘They… may have done.’

  ‘You have to imagine this table with the Twelve seated on either side of him. Quite a subdued gathering I imagine. Now look across the city. Temple to the right – beautiful, no? – and then the land falling and rising again to the little hill against the sun. That’s Golgotha. The summit’s bare now but the crosses would have been clearly visible.’

  Thomas was puzzled. ‘But that final meal was on the Thursday. Surely the crosses on Golgotha weren’t put up until the Friday morning.’

  ‘Others had to be removed to make way. So I was told.’

  ‘Quite a view. So, this was John’s house.’

  John the priest, who had friends in high places and could pull strings. Most of the Twelve had been staying at Bethany and had fled. But Simon Peter sought refuge here with the women.’

  ‘Wasn’t that risky?’

  ‘A headless snake presents little danger.’ James stepped back into the smaller room and closed the drapes behind Thomas. ‘So, there we go.’

  ‘The feet that must have tramped through this room,’ Thomas said wistfully. ‘Imagine Judas Iscariot standing right here, wondering what on earth he should do. And all the sandals scattered about.’

  There was a long silence before James said, ‘You’ll stay for some supper?’

  ‘They’re expecting me at the inn. But perhaps tomorrow…’

  ‘I’ll get Mary to see you out.’

  ‘No need. I can remember the way.’ James took a parchment roll from the stand and gave it to Thomas. ‘A little light reading.’

  Thomas turned it over in his hands. ‘I recognise his handwriting. What is it?’

  ‘References to the scriptures – pointing the way. Discuss it tomorrow. God be with you.’

  ‘And with you, brother.’

  As soon as Thomas had left Mary entered.

  ‘You look troubled, my child.’

  ‘There’s something pressing in my head again.’

  ‘I understand. Shall we break a crust together? We’ve not done that for quite a while.’

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  The following morning James and Thomas were returning from a walk that had taken them past the gardens around Golgotha. Outwardly the stronger, of the two men Thomas was the more fatigued.

  ‘Look at you!’ James said. ‘Don’t they have hills in Sepphoris?’

  ‘Not like here.’

  ‘Then Jerusalem would suit you better. Make you fitter.’ He handed Thomas a cup. ‘Have some water.’

  �
�Nothing more… never mind.’

  ‘A clear head, Thomas, is what we need.’

  ‘That was no idle excursion, was it?’

  ‘No.’ James paused. ‘I’m perplexed, Thomas. And have been for a very long time. I had to summon up courage to get you here.’ He slumped into a chair and Thomas followed suit.

  ‘As I explained yesterday, our protestations of faith – Paul’s and mine – hang upon the concept of a risen Jesus – or Christos, as he would have it in the Greek vernacular. It was the fulfilment of what Jesus had told us to expect. That event – initially so fantastic – was firmly accepted within weeks of the crucifixion… and has never seriously been questioned. Yet the reports at the time were so inconsistent. On almost every occasion he appeared to his followers, someone had doubts.’

  ‘I vaguely remember that.’

  ‘And if Jesus was truly back with us in the flesh – as he is reported to have said of himself – where was he in between times and – here’s the crunch question – what happened between his entombment and his first appearances? Acceptance of the resurrection was at first wholly dependent on the disappearance of the corpse, about which we know nothing. Let me be blunt: I don’t believe a lacerated and broken body removed itself. And if one of his followers had taken it… well… then our faith would have been founded on a lie, which is inconceivable.’

  ‘It is said the Twelve believed it to a man.’

  ‘And still do, the ones that are left. But do you?’

  Thomas grinned. ‘Conveniently I have a meeting in the city. Discuss it later?’

  ‘Think about it, Thomas.’

  ‘I will.’

  As soon as the sound of Thomas’ footsteps on the wooden stairs ceased there was a knock at the door and Mary entered.

  ‘Has he gone?’

  ‘Did he upset you?’

  ‘I didn’t speak to him, Father.’

  ‘And you didn’t look at him either. I saw you averting your eyes. It’s our custom to welcome visitors, Mary, not shy away from them.’

  ‘I’ll try… next time.’

  ‘I know you will. Now, draw up that chair.’