He leaned toward Lazarus. “Speak, if you please, my good fellow. Tell us when, how and why this misfortune took place. Put everything in its proper order and don’t rush-it will while away our time. Catch your breath… We’re listening.”

Jesus had risen with a start. He looked at Lazarus, his lips quivering. This was a new sign sent him by God. The Forerunner had left the world, was no longer needed. He had prepared the way and departed, his duty done. My hour has come… my hour has come, Jesus thought, shuddering; but he remained silent, his eyes riveted upon Lazarus’s pale-green lips.

“He murdered him, did he?” growled old Melchizedek, angrily banging his staff on the ground. “What a state we’ve come to, when incestuous lechers kill saints, and debauchees ascetics! It’s the end of the world!”

Overcome with fright, the women began to scream. The blind elder pitied them. “You exaggerate, Melchizedek,” he said. “The world stands firm on its feet. Ladies, don’t be afraid.”

“The throat of the world is cut,” whined Lazarus, tears streaming from his eyes. “The voice of the desert has been snuffed out. Who now will call to God for us sinners? The world is orphaned!”

“One must not lift his hand against authority,” hissed the second elder. “No matter what the powers-that-be do, close your eyes and don’t look-for God looks. The Baptist should have minded his own business. Serves him right!”

“Are we slaves?” thundered Melchizedek. “Can you tell me why God gave men hands? I’ll tell you why: so that they could lift them against tyrants!”

“Be quiet, Fathers, so that we may hear how this evil took place,” said the blind elder, irritated. “Speak, Lazarus!”

“I was on my way to get baptized with all the rest,” Lazarus began. “I hoped it might improve my health. As you know, I haven’t been very well recently. In fact, I’ve been getting worse and worse. I feel dizzy, my eyes puff up, and my kidneys-”

“All right, all right, we know all that,” scoffed the blind elder. “Come to the point!”

“I reached the Jordan and was by the bridge where the crowd assembles to be baptized. I heard cries and weeping and said to myself, ‘It’s nothing, probably just the people tearfully confessing their sins.’ I went forward a bit, and what do I see but men and women fallen on their faces in the river mud, lamenting. I asked, ‘What’s happened, brothers? What are you crying about?’

“ ‘The Prophet’s been murdered!’

“ ‘By whom?’

“ ‘The criminal, the transgressor-Herod!’

“ ‘How, when?’

“ ‘He was drunk and his shameless step-daughter Salome was dancing in front of him stark naked. Her beauty drove the old lecher out of his senses. He sat her on his knee and asked what she wanted him to give her. Half his kingdom? She said no. What did she want, then? She said John the Baptist’s head. You shall have it, he told her, and he had it brought her on a silver platter.’ ”

Exhausted by his speech, Lazarus collapsed once more to the ground. No one spoke. The lamp sputtered, flickered, was about to go out. Martha rose and refilled it with oil. It grew bright again.

“It’s the end of the world,” old Melchizedek repeated after a long pause. All this time he had been silently stroking his beard and weighing the world’s iniquity and shamelessness. News frequently came from Jerusalem that the idolaters were soiling the holy Temple. Every morning the priests slaughtered a bull and two lambs as a sacrifice not to the God of Israel but to the godless, execrable Roman emperor. The wealthy opened their doors in the morning, saw on their doorsteps men who had died of hunger during the night, lifted up their silken robes and stepped over the corpses to go and parade along the arcades around the Temple… Melchizedek weighed everything in his mind, and decided: it was truly the end of the world.

He turned to Jesus. “And you, what do you have to say about all this?”

Jesus replied in a voice which had suddenly become so exceedingly deep that they all turned and stared at him. “I come from the desert where I saw them. Yes, three angels have already departed from the heavens to fall upon this earth. I saw them with my own eyes, visible at the edge of the sky. They are coming. The first is Leprosy, the second Madness, and the third, the most merciful, Fire. And I heard a voice: ‘Son of the Carpenter, construct an ark, place therein as many virtuous men as you find, but quickly!’ The day of the Lord is here-my day. I am coming!”

The three elders shrieked. The rest of the men got up from the ground where they had been sitting with crossed legs. Their teeth were chattering. The women, stricken dumb, turned in one body toward the door. Mary and Martha went and stood next to Jesus, as though seeking his protection. Had he not sworn to take them into the ark? The time had come.

Old Melchizedek wiped away the sweat which was running from his white temples. “The stranger speaks the truth,” he shouted, “the truth! Listen, brothers, to this miracle: When I got up this morning, I unrolled the Holy Scriptures as I always do and I chanced upon the words of the prophet Joel: ‘Blow the trumpet of Zion; may the holy mountain resound. Let all who inhabit the earth tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming, a day of clouds and darkness. Before Him-fire; behind Him-flames. They shall rush like horses; they shall clatter like chariots of war over the stones. And at the tops of the mountains the flames will crackle, as when they pour over the reeds and devour them… Such is the day of the Lord!’ I read this terrible message two or three times and began, barefooted, to chant it in my yard. Then I fell on my face and cried, ‘Lord, if you plan to come soon, send me a sign. I must prepare myself. I must pity the poor, open my larders and pay for my sins. Send a thunderbolt, a voice or a man to warn me, so that I’ll be in time!’ ”

He turned to Jesus. “You are the sign. God sent you. Do I have time? When will the heavens open, my child?”

“Each second which passes, Father,” Jesus replied, “is a heaven ready to open. At every instant, Leprosy, Madness and Fire advance one more step. Their wings are already touching my hair.”

Lazarus had opened wide his faded green eyes and was staring at Jesus. He took an unsteady step forward.

“Are you by any chance Jesus of Nazareth?” he asked. “They say that as the executioner seized the cleaver to cut off the Baptist’s head, the prophet stretched out his hand toward the desert and cried, ‘Jesus of Nazareth, leave the desert, return to mankind. Come. Do not forsake the world.’ If you are Jesus of Nazareth, blessed is the ground on which you walk. My house is sanctified; I am baptized and cured. I fall and worship your feet!”

Having said this, he prostrated himself in order to kiss Jesus’ feet, which were covered with bruises.

But sly old Samuel quickly pulled himself together. His mind had tottered for a moment, but he rapidly re-steadied himself on his feet. We find in the prophets whatever our hearts desire, he reflected. On one page the Lord is in a frenzy against his people and lifts his fist to crush them; on the next, he is all milk and honey. We find the prophecy which matches our morning mood-so, let’s not lose any sleep over it… He shook his horse-like head and smirked in his beard, but said nothing. Let the people be afraid. It’s good for them. Without fear… The poor are more numerous and more muscular. We’re lost!

He kept silent therefore and gazed contemptuously at Lazarus, who was kissing the visitor’s feet and speaking to him.

“If the Galileans I met at the Jordan are your disciples, Rabbi, they gave me a message in case I should meet you: They’re going to leave, and will wait for you in Jerusalem, at the David gate, in the tavern of Simon the Cyrenian. They got frightened evidently at the slaying of the Prophet and have fled in order to hide. The persecution has begun.”