Lamb (34 page)

“Okay, but no ‘Blessed are the dumbfucks.’”

“Who then?”

“Sluts?”

“No.”

“How about the wankers? I can think of five or six disciples that would be really blessed.”

“No wankers. I’ve got it: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.”

“Okay, better. What are you going to give them?”

“A fruit basket.”

“You can’t give the meek the whole earth and these guys a fruit basket.”

“Give them the kingdom of heaven.”

“The poor in spirit got that.”

“Everybody gets some.”

“Okay then, ‘share the Kingdom of Heaven.’” I wrote it down.

“We could give the fruit basket to the dumbfucks.”

“NO DUMBFUCKS!”

“Sorry, I just feel for them.”

“You feel for everyone, Josh. It’s your job.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.”

We finished writing the sermon only a few hours before Philip and Thaddeus returned from Judea leading three thousand of John’s followers. Joshua had them gather on a hillside above Capernaum, then sent the disciples into the crowd to find the sick and bring them to him. He performed miracles of healing all morning, then coming into the afternoon he gathered us together at the spring below the mountain.

Peter said, “There’s at least another thousand people from Galilee on the hill, Joshua, and they are hungry.”

“How much food do we have?” Joshua asked.

Judas came forward with a basket. “Five loaves and two fish.”

“That will do, but you’ll need more baskets. And about a hundred volunteers to help distribute the food. Nathaniel, you, Bartholomew, and Thomas go into the crowd and find me fifty to a hundred people who have their own baskets. Bring them here. By the time you get back we’ll have the food for them.”

Judas threw down his basket. “We have five loaves, how do you think—”

Joshua held up his hand for silence and the Zealot clammed up. “Judas, today you’ve seen the lame walk, the blind see, and the deaf hear.”

“Not to mention the blind hear and the deaf see,” I added.

Joshua scowled at me. “It will take little more to feed a few of the faithful.”

“There are but five loaves!” shouted Judas.

“Judas, once there was a rich man, who built great barns and granaries so he could save all of the fruits of his wealth long into his old age. But on the very day his barns were finished, the Lord said, “Hey, we need you up here.” And the rich man did say, “Oh shit, I’m dead.” So what good did his stuff do him?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about what you’re going to eat.”

Nathaniel, Bart, and Thomas started off to their assigned duty, but Maggie grabbed Nathaniel and held him fast. “No,” she said. “No one does anything until you promise us that you’ll go into hiding after this sermon.”

Joshua smiled. “How can I hide, Maggie? Who will spread the Word? Who will heal the sick?”

“We will,” Maggie continued. “Now promise. Go into the land of the gentiles, out of Herod’s reach, just until things calm down. Promise or we don’t move.” Peter and Andrew stepped up behind Maggie to show their support. John and James were nodding as she spoke.

“So be it,” said Joshua. “But now we have hungry people to feed.”

And we fed them. The loaves and the fish were multiplied, jars were brought in from the surrounding villages and filled with water, which was carried to the mountainside, and all the while the local Pharisees watched and growled and spied, but they hadn’t missed the healings, and they didn’t miss the Sermon on the Mount, and word of it went back to Jerusalem with their poison reports.

Afterward, at the spring by the shore, I gathered up the last of the pieces of bread to take home with us. Joshua came down the shore with a basket over his head, then pulled it off when he got to me.

“When we said we wanted you to hide we meant something a little less obvious, Joshua. Great sermon, by the way.”

Joshua started helping me gather up the bread that was strewn around on the ground. “I wanted to talk to you and I couldn’t get away from the crowd without hiding under the basket. I’m having a little trouble preaching humility.”

“You’re so good at that one. People line up to hear the humility sermon.”

“How can I preach that the humble will be exalted and the exalted will be humbled at the same time I’m being exalted by four thousand people?”

“Bodhisattva, Josh. Remember what Gaspar taught you about being a bodhisattva. You don’t have to be humble, because you are denying your own ascension by bringing the good news to other people. You’re out of the humility flow, so to speak.”

“Oh yeah.” He smiled.

“But now that you mention it,” I said, “it does seem a little hypocritical.”

“I’m not proud of that.”

“Then you’re okay.”

That evening, when we had all gathered again in Capernaum, Joshua
called us to the fire ring in front of Peter’s house and we watched the last gold of the sunlight reflecting on the lake as Joshua led us in a prayer of thanks.

Then he made the call: “Okay, who wants to be an apostle?”

“I do, I do,” said Nathaniel. “What’s an apostle?”

“That’s a guy who makes drugs,” I said.

“Me, me,” said Nathaniel. “I want to make drugs.”

“I’ll try that,” said John.

“That’s an apothecary,” said Matthew. “An apothecary mixes powders and makes drugs. Apostle means ‘to send off.’”

“Is this kid a whiz, or what,” I said, pointing a thumb at Matthew.

“That’s right,” said Joshua, “messengers. You’ll be sent off to spread the message that the kingdom has come.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” asked Peter.

“No, now you’re disciples, but I want to appoint apostles who will take the Word into the land. There will be twelve, for the twelve tribes of Israel. I’ll give you power to heal, and power over devils. You’ll be like me, only in a different outfit. You’ll take nothing with you except your clothes. You’ll live only off the charity of those you preach to. You’ll be on your own, like sheep among wolves. People will persecute you and spit on you, and maybe beat you, and if that happens, well, it happens. Shake off the dust and move on. Now, who’s with me?”

And there was a roaring silence among the disciples.

“How about you, Maggie?”

“I’m not much of a traveler, Josh. Makes me nauseous. Disciple’s fine with me.”

“How ’bout you, Biff?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Joshua stood up and just counted them off. “Nathaniel, Peter, Andrew, Philip, James, John, Thaddeus, Judas, Matthew, Thomas, Bartholomew, and Simon. You’re the apostles. Now get out there and apostilize.”

And they all looked at each other.

“Spread the good news, the son of man is here! The kingdom is coming. Go! Go! Go!”

They got up and sort of milled around.

“Can we take our wives?” asked James.

“Yes.”

“Or one of the women disciples?” asked Matthew.

“Yes.”

“Can Thomas Two go too?”

“Yes, Thomas Two can go.”

Their questions answered, they milled around some more.

“Biff,” Joshua said. “Will you assign territories for everybody and send them out?”

“Okey-dokey,” I said. “Who wants Samaria? No one? Good. Peter, it’s yours. Give ’em hell. Caesarea? Come on, you weenies, step up…”

Thus were the twelve appointed to their sacred mission.

The next morning seventy of the people who we’d recruited to help feed the multitude came to Joshua when they heard about the appointing of the apostles.

“Why only twelve?” one man asked.

“You all want to cast off what you own, leave your families, and risk persecution and death to spread the good news?” Joshua asked.

“Yes,” they all shouted.

Joshua looked at me as if he himself couldn’t believe it.

“It was a really good sermon,” I said.

“So be it,” said Joshua. “Biff, you and Matthew assign territories. Send no one to his hometown. That doesn’t seem to work very well.”

And so the twelve and the seventy were sent out, and Joshua, Maggie, and I went into Decapolis, which was the territory of Herod’s brother, Philip, and camped and fished and basically hid out. Joshua preached a little, but only to small groups, and although he did heal the sick, he asked them not to tell anyone about the miracles.

After three months hiding in Philip’s territory, word came by boat from across the lake that someone had intervened on Joshua’s behalf with the Pharisees and that the death warrant, which had never really been formal, had been lifted. We went home to Capernaum and waited for the apostles to return. Their enthusiasm had waned some after months in the field.

“It sucks.”

“People are mean.”

“Lepers are creepy.”

Matthew came out of Judea with more news of Joshua’s mysterious benefactor from Jerusalem. “His name is Joseph of Arimathea,” said Matthew. “He’s a wealthy merchant, and he owns ships and vineyards and olive presses. He seems to have the ear of the Pharisees, but he is not one of them. His wealth has given him some influence with the Romans as well. They are considering making him a citizen, I hear.”

“What makes him want to help us?” I asked.

“I talked to him for a long time about the kingdom, and about the Holy Ghost and the rest of Joshua’s message. He believes.” Matthew smiled broadly, obviously proud of his powerful convert. “He wants you to come to his house for dinner, Joshua. In Jerusalem.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for Joshua there?” asked Maggie.

“Joseph has sent this letter guaranteeing Joshua’s safety along with all who accompany him to Jerusalem.” Matthew held out the letter.

Maggie took the scroll and unrolled it. “My name is on this too. And Biff’s.”

“Joseph knew you would be coming, and I told him that Biff sticks to Joshua like a leech.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, that you accompany the master wherever he travels,” Matthew added quickly.

“But why me?” Maggie asked.

“Your brother Simon who is called Lazarus, he is very sick. Dying. He’s asked for you. Joseph wanted you to know that you would have safe passage.”

Josh grabbed his satchel and started walking that moment. “Let’s go,” he said. “Peter, you are in charge until I return. Biff, Maggie, we need to make Tiberius before dark. I’m going to see if I can borrow some camels there. Matthew, you come too, you know this Joseph. And Thomas, you come along, I want to talk to you.”

So off we went, into what I was sure were the jaws of a trap.

Along the way Joshua called Thomas to walk beside him. Maggie and I walked behind them only a few paces, so we could hear their conversa
tion. Thomas kept stopping to make sure that Thomas Two could keep up with them.

“They all think I’m mad,” Thomas said. “They laugh at me behind my back. Thomas Two has told me.”

“Thomas, you know I can lay my hands upon you and you will be cured. Thomas Two will no longer speak to you. The others won’t laugh at you.”

Thomas walked along for a while without saying anything, but when he looked back at Joshua I could see tears streaking his cheeks. “If Thomas Two goes away, then I’ll be alone.”

“You won’t be alone. You’ll have me.”

“Not for long. You don’t have long with us.”

“How do you know that?”

“Thomas Two told me.”

“We won’t tell the others quite yet, all right, Thomas?”

“Not if you don’t want me to. But you won’t cure me, will you? You won’t make Thomas Two go away?”

“No,” Joshua said. “We may both need an extra friend soon.” He patted Thomas on the shoulder, then turned to walk on ahead to catch up with Matthew.

“Well, don’t step on him!” Thomas shouted.

“Sorry,” said Joshua.

I looked at Maggie. “Did you hear that?”

She nodded. “You can’t let it happen, Biff. He doesn’t seem to care about his own life, but I do, and you do, and if you let harm come to him I’ll never forgive you.”

“But Maggie,
everyone
is supposed to be forgiven.”

“Not you. Not if something happens to Josh.”

“So be it. So, hey, once Joshua heals your brother, you want to go do something, get some pomegranate juice, or a falafel, or get married or something?”

She stopped in her tracks, so I stopped too. “Are you ever paying attention to anything that goes on around you?”

“I’m sorry, I was overcome by faith there for a moment. What did you say?”

When we got to Bethany, Martha was waiting for us in the street in front
of Simon’s house. She went right to Joshua and he held out his arms to embrace her, but when she got to him she pushed him away. “My brother is dead,” she said. “Where were you?”

“I came as soon as I heard.”

Maggie went to Martha and held her as they both cried. The rest of us stood around feeling awkward. The two old blind guys, Crustus and Abel, whom Joshua had once healed, came over from across the street.

“Dead, dead and buried four days,” said Crustus. “He turned a sort of chartreuse at the end.”

“Emerald, it was emerald, not chartreuse,” said Abel.

“My friend Simon truly sleeps, then,” Joshua said.

Thomas came up and put his hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “No, master, he’s dead. Thomas Two thinks it may have been a hairball. Simon was a leopard, you know?”

I couldn’t stand it. “He was a LEPER, you idiot! Not a leopard.”

“Well, he IS dead!” shouted Thomas back. “Not sleeping.”

“Joshua was being figurative, he knows he’s dead.”

“Do you guys think you could be just a little more insensitive?” said Matthew, pointing to the weeping sisters.

“Look, tax collector, when I want your two shekels I’ll ask—”

“Where is he?” Joshua asked, his voice booming over the sobs and protests.

Martha pushed out of her sister’s embrace and looked at Joshua. “He bought a tomb in Kidron,” said Martha.

“Take me there, I need to wake my friend.”

“Dead,” said Thomas. “Dead, dead, dead.”

There was a sparkle of hope amid the tears in Martha’s eyes. “Wake him?”

“Dead as a doornail. Dead as Moses. Mmmph…” Matthew clamped his hand over Thomas’s mouth, which saved me having to render the twin unconscious with a brick.