Secret Magdalene (49 page)

But this thought worries me, and I take Yeshu aside to voice it. “Please…I would that I understood the whole of your thought. If you would teach once you are ‘risen,’ Rome will see you do
not
die. How, then, can they let you live?”

“If Rome sees that I die, but yet live, how then can they think to kill me? And if the people see also that I die, yet rise, how then can they resist the Father? Loose yourself from these worries, beloved. What will be will be, and what will be is the Father’s work.” Yeshu taps his brother’s shoulder. “Jude?”

Jude, who has eaten every one of a plate of wild German parsnips with three glasses of Father’s Setinum wine, looks up from his meal. “Yeshu?”

“Tomorrow when I speak in the Temple, I would have you stay near.”

“Have I ever done other, brother?”

There is something in the way that Jude says brother that makes me look full and long on his face. What is it that moves within his heart? What is there of Jude in all this?

THE SEVENTEENTH SCROLL

Gethsemane

T
his day our wits
must be about us. For surely someone among the Sanhedrin has approached Pilate and has made a first attempt at convincing him of the need to rid not only themselves, but Rome as well, of this messiah, this traitor?

Once more we bathe and enter the Court of the Gentiles, and I must smile, albeit behind a hand, to see that so soon as the redheaded, red-bearded Yehoshua the Nazorean appears, the bankers rise to throw themselves over their coins, the sellers of animals hasten to stand between their pigeons and Simon Peter, and the tenders of goats and of sheep gather them in as best they can. Yeshu, no less than we all, ignores them entirely, making instead for the Temple that stands in the center of the Temple Mount, in which is the Holy of Holies wherein Yahweh lurks.

Behind a low wall is a short flight of shallow steps running along the whole length of this Temple. These are the steps on which stood John of the River the day he came to preach; at the top of which there is a choice of gates, but of them only three are allowed any who are not priests.

Yeshu heads straight for one of these three. As we pass through, I read the signs affixed to the outer wall. In Latin and in Greek, they warn all those who are not Jews, meaning those who do not love Torah, that should they dare pass through they would solicit their own death, and I do not smile to myself to read this. Beyond this door is the Court of Women, and beyond that, the Temple itself whose walls are covered with gold and whose doors are topped with golden vines and golden grapes, and beyond that I do not know. No woman may go nearer the sanctuary than the Court of Women; I have not set foot here since the day I watched in horror as a fearsome Sicarii killed Ben Azar of the House of Boethus. Simon Peter looks about him; he too has not seen this place since that day. Nor has Yeshu, who did not stay his hand, though he would stay it now.

In wonder, we pause, for into this place come all who call themselves prophet and all who would teach. We stand in the very heart of Jerusalem. If in the outer court the air is a haze of death and dying, in the inner court it is a very fog that burns the eyes. And if in the outer court it smells of charred flesh and burnt hair, in the inner court there is a reek so thick it sickens. Am I the only one to think so?

Many who follow Yeshu await us here, having been told he would come this day. So too do the Sanhedrin wait. If Father had not already told us these would be here, still, we should have known, for no sooner do we arrive in the inner precincts close by the Chamber of Nazirites than they advance upon us. Comes a whole flock, elders as well as chief priests, flapping down from the curved steps leading up to the Nicanor Gate—though not, I am relieved to see, Caiaphas. The high priest leaves such things to others. But I sink to see Nicodemus. If he should know me, know that a female stands in the clothes of a man—?

It is pandemonium. If Yeshu’s presence were not enough to demand attention from all who come for Passover, the presence of Jerusalem’s foremost men would do so. And as for there being both in one day! It remains pandemonium until Yeshu, by remaining perfectly silent and perfectly still, causes all this to fade and to fade until it is as if the stink and the noise and the confusion had never been. Even then he remains silent, and the elders begin to sweat with the wait of it. By the moment it becomes more excruciating. And when they can take no more, when even the strongest among them would speak out, or do a thing unplanned, Yeshu stops them by spreading his arms as a bird would spread its wings.

Standing on a step so that he is a head higher than the tallest among them, Yeshu’s voice is as it was when first I heard him, low unto a whisper, and full with Galilee. “Would any among you enter the Kingdom of Heaven?”

From priest to pauper, a sigh runs through the people. Would they enter God’s Kingdom? At the End of Days, they would do nothing else. As one, they would inhale this messiah, take him deep into their lungs, and one among them, a small man, but finely made, and with a look of hard labor about him, speaks out, and his voice too is not loud, but soft with longing. “Who is it that will draw us to heaven, Master, if that Kingdom is in heaven? And when shall it come?”

These questions have been asked many times and Yeshu has answered them many times, each time differently. Today Yeshu’s answer seems spurred by the burning and the dying all around us. “The birds of the air and the beasts of the earth and the fishes of the sea shall draw you to heaven, and all creatures under the earth. For the Kingdom of Heaven is within you, and whosoever knows God shall find it, for if you know him, you shall know yourselves. And you will realize that you are the sons and the daughters of the Father who is perfect, and you shall know yourselves to be citizens of heaven, for
you
are the City of God.”

Yeshu could not have spoken of gnosis more clearly, but not “knowing” the goddess Sophia who is gnosis, the faces of those who hear him are blurred with confusion. He has told them the world and all it contains is the Kingdom of God if only they would
know
it. And I pity them so for not having ears to hear, and I pity them for thinking themselves separate from God, and lost.

But this is what the elders wait for, and one among them, no doubt chosen earlier, and this one Nicodemus himself, has pushed forward and pushed forward so that by now he stands at the foot of Yeshu’s step. Nicodemus raises his voice and trumpets out over all those who have listened as they would listen to David come again, “By what authority would you speak of such a thing? Who gave you this authority?” His gray beard is full of rage and his face is free of doubt.

Yeshu turns a mild eye upon Father’s once friend. “I too would ask a question, and if Nicodemus should answer mine, I would answer his. Tell me of the Baptism of John? Was it from heaven or was it from men?”

I know what Yeshu has done; I know that Jude does and I feel his flush of admiration. As for Nicodemus, there is no need to touch him; he too knows what Yeshu has done, and is lost.

But now comes forth a certain Gamaliel to stand by Nicodemus. Though a Pharisee, Gamaliel is yet president of the Sanhedrin, and has eaten at Father’s table. Just as Nicodemus does not know me, this one does not know me; both are convinced by the person of John the Less. Gamaliel, too, knows what Yeshu has done and his thoughts are as harried as hares, seeking a way to answer. If Nicodemus should say that John’s baptism was from heaven, this messiah will say to him in front of all, why then did you not believe him? But if Nicodemus should say that John’s baptism was of men, then the people would turn on those he spoke for, would hurl the hard lemons they keep about them for just such moments, since all hold John of Kefar Imi as a prophet. Therefore, neither answer will do. “We cannot tell,” is what the president of the Sanhedrin must finally say.

So that Yeshu, who has come here this day to provoke the council and to enrage the priests, answers, “Neither do I tell you by what authority I do what I do. But this I will say to you. If a man asks his son to do a thing and the son says he will not, but afterward relents and does it, and then the man asks a second son to do a thing, and this son says that he will, but does not, which son has done the will of his father?”

Of course, Gamaliel who has eaten Father’s bread must answer that the first son does the will of the father, so that Yeshu can say, “Then in truth I say to you that the whores and the tax collectors will know the Kingdom sooner than you shall know it. For John came to you and you believed him not, but the whores and the tax collectors believed him. And neither did you repent. For you are like whitewashed tombs, which appear outwardly beautiful, but within are full of dead men’s bones.”

Yea Balaam!
How the face of Gamaliel darkens! How Nicodemus grinds his teeth! That Yeshu should presume to say such a thing to a teacher of the Law!

By now, the priests and the members of the Sanhedrin have pushed past the people and ring us round with only themselves. I know that Jude fingers his knife, as does Simon Peter, as do the Sons of Thunder. My own blade is no less distant from my hand.

But this pushing forward seems as nothing to Yeshu. Once again he raises his arms and speaks out over them, his eyes on the gathered people behind the wall of priests and of elders. “Hear that the Kingdom of Heaven is like a certain king who would give a feast for the marriage of his son. This king sent out his servants to all just men, so they might be asked to come to this feast. But no one would come, each saying he was too busy with his business or with his farm or with this or with that. And again the king sent out his servants bidding them tempt these just men by speaking of the delights each would find at the king’s table, and still none would come. Indeed, some were vexed the servants had come a second time, and made light of them, or set their dogs on them. But the king loved his son, and his wish to share his abundance was great, so sent his servants out a third time. And this time, there were those who were angered by the call and would slay the servants of the king. And the king, when he heard this, was hurt in his heart, so that he sent his servants to the highways and to the wild ways to gather any he could, be they good or be they bad, to come sit at his table. And the poor, not too busy with this or with that, came to his feast. And the bad, humbled that a king’s servant would ask them, came to his feast. And those who were like children, and would see such a thing as a great supper, came to his feast. And the king spared them nothing. For I tell you,
all
are called, but few answer.”

There are those among these elders who would take up small chunks of masonry; I feel the heat of this terrible desire as it passes through Nicodemus. As for Gamaliel, he could not turn much redder, and how his arm aches to cast the first stone! Gamaliel knows whom Yeshu means by just men—he means the priests and the scribes and the Sanhedrin; he means Gamaliel himself. But in their shock and their outrage, neither he nor the others standing with him can lay a hand on Yehoshua the Nazorean for the crowd at their backs. Only the Romans can touch Yeshu now. And by what he does next, I know that Gamaliel is prepared for this. The movement is slight, and it is quick. Gamaliel has signaled another to come forth, a younger man and a priest of little standing.

It is this one who smiles upon Yeshu, saying, “Master, we know now you are true. We know you care for no man more than another. And we know you teach the way of God. Therefore, tell us what you think. Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar, or is it not?”

I feel Yeshu stiffen against me. Here is a trap, more dangerous than that which he himself laid for Gamaliel. The president of the Sanhedrin is a clever man and I know it is he who has thought of this. If Yeshu should say that it is not lawful, he will preach sedition against Rome, and—too soon—the Romans will kill him. If Yeshu should say it is lawful, he will show himself a friend of Caesar, and the people will turn away from him. And if he should say, as Gamaliel has said, that he does not know, Yeshu will show himself no more than the elders and the priests who answer as best suits the moment, and the people will be certain he is no messiah. Any one of these answers will put an end to this bold trespasser who speaks in the foolish accents of Galilee.

Gamaliel’s thin smile tells me how well he knows this, and how tight his trap. What he does not know is that, according to our plans, there can be no arrest before the right and proper time. Therefore, for his life and ours, Yeshu must answer well.

“Show me a coin.”

For the elders, it is the work of a moment to produce any number of such things, and with care and precision a single dinarius is laid in Yeshu’s outstretched palm. Yeshu does not look at it, but at Gamaliel, though it is to the young priest that he now speaks. “Whose is this image?”

“Caesar’s, Master.”

“And this lettering?”

“Caesar’s, Master.”

Yeshu hands back the coin, as precisely as he was given it, and says so that all can hear. “Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and to God that which is God’s.”

Oh, this is a wonderful answer! Not even Salome could have thought of a cleverer one! And I look out over the faces of the people, and all here, they too think it a wonderful answer and break out in talk of it, each repeating to each what it is the Master come among them has said. By evening, Yeshu’s words will be heard in every home, and every place of business, and every fine mansion in Jerusalem. By evening, the sound and the meaning of it will reach the ear of the prefect of Judaea.

Yeshu has done what he need do with the priests of the Temple and the Sanhedrin. If there are any among them who love him, they hold no power now, for he has so turned the president of the Sanhedrin against him the rest would not lift a finger in his defense. Therefore, it is Pilate who is now sought by Yeshu.

Coming away, we know we have played our parts well, and rejoice. Even I rejoice, knowing what I know. But as we pass once more through the Court of the Gentiles, Matthew of Lydda exclaims at how grand the Temple, and his brother, Levi, proclaims at its worth, but Jude surprises us by proclaiming how close Yeshu came to stoning. And Yeshu stops in his tracks, saying, “It is not prophesied that I should be stoned.” I need not hear him to know what he does not say, which is:
and blessed be this, for if stoning were prophesied, it could not be survived.

We stand before the entrance to the Hulda Tunnel but Yeshu does not enter. Instead he asks of us, “You know that in two days it is the feast of the Passover?” Oh yes, all here know this. There is much nodding and much confusion that the question is asked. Yeshu then says, “You know then that the son of man will be betrayed and crucified?”

If I have rejoiced, it is nothing to how I now lament. As for the others, on the instant all joy is gone from their hearts.

Simon Peter tears at his beard, and when he has finished with this, he takes Yeshu by the shoulders and shakes him, crying out, “I would have this thing far from you! This will not be done unto you!”