Rejoicing, he lengthened his stride. It seemed to him that the feet were hurrying, so he hurried too. He advanced, whispering “Onward! Onward!” to the invisible guide; stumbled forward over rocks, jumped ditches, ran. Suddenly he uttered a cry. He felt a horrible pain in his hands and feet, as though he had been pierced by nails. He collapsed onto a rock, the sweat pouring over him in cold granules. For a moment his head swam. The earth sank away from under his feet and a fierce dark ocean spread itself out before him. It was deserted but for a tiny red skiff which sailed bravely along, its sails puffed out, ready to burst… Jesus looked and looked, then smiled. “It is my heart,” he murmured, “it is my heart…” His head became steady again, the pains subsided, and when his disciples arrived, they found him tranquilly seated on the rock and smiling.

“Onward, lads, faster!” he said, and he rose.

Chapter Twenty-One

IT IS SAID that the Sabbath is a well-fed boy at rest on God’s knees. With him rest the waters, birds refrain from building their nests, and men do not work. They dress, ornament themselves and go to the synagogue to watch the rabbi unroll the holy scroll with its Law of God written in red and black letters and to hear the learned search every word, every syllable and discover-with great art-the will of God.

It is the Sabbath today. At this very moment the faithful are leaving the synagogue of Nazareth, their eyes still dazzled by the visions which Simeon, the old rabbi, called up before them. The light in their eyes is so strong they all stumble like blind men. They disperse throughout the village square and promenade slowly under the tall date palms to recover their equilibrium.

Today the rabbi had let the Scriptures fall open according to chance. They opened to the prophet Nahum. He placed his finger, again according to chance, and it fell upon the following sacred text: “Behold, upon the mountain are heard the feet of him who brings good tidings!”

The old rabbi read these words, reread them, worked up steam. “It’s the Messiah!” he screamed. “He’s coming. Look around you, look within you. The signs of his coming are everywhere. Within us: wrath, shame, hope, and the cry, ‘We’ve had enough!’… And outside: look! Satan sits on the throne of the Universe. He holds and caresses man’s rotten body on one knee; on the other, man’s prostituted soul. The years which the prophets prophesied have come-and it is God who speaks through the mouths of the prophets. Open the Scriptures. What do they say? ‘When Israel is hurled from its throne and our holy soil is trodden by barbarian feet, the end of the world will have come!’ And what more do the Scriptures say: ‘The last king will be dissolute, unlawful, atheistic; his children will be unworthy. And the crown will slip from Israel ’s head.’ The dissolute and unlawful king came: Herod! I saw him with my own eyes when he called me to Jericho to heal him. I took along my secret herbs-I knew all about such lore-and went. I went, and from that day on, I have not been able to eat meat, for I saw his putrescent flesh; I have not been able to drink wine, for I saw his blood filled with worms. I have retained his stench in my nostrils for over thirty years… He died; his carcass rotted. His sons came: trivial, unworthy dregs. The royal crown slid from their heads…

“The prophecies, therefore, have been fulfilled: the end of the world is here! A voice resounded by the Jordan: ‘He’s coming!’ A voice resounds within us: ‘He’s coming!’ Today I opened the Scriptures and the letters drew together and cried, ‘He’s coming!’ I’ve grown old, my eyes are dim, my teeth have fallen out, my knees grown slack. I rejoice! I rejoice because God gave me his word. ‘Simeon,’ he said, ‘you shall not die before you see the Messiah.’ Thus the nearer I come to death, the nearer to us comes the Messiah. Courage, my children. There is no slavery, no Satan, there are no Romans. There is only the Messiah, and he is coming! Men, strap on your arms: this is war! Women, light the lamps, the bridegroom arrives! We do not know the hour or exact moment-it may be today, it may be tomorrow. Keep the vigil! I hear the stones of the near-by mountains shift under his feet. He’s coming! Go out, perhaps you will see him!”

The people went out and dispersed under the tall date palms. The rabbi’s words were extremely disorganized and his auditors struggled to forget them completely so that the roaring flames would subside and their souls could once more dispose themselves around cares still at hand. And while they promenaded, anxiously awaiting the hour of noon when they could return to their homes and by talking, arguing and eating forget the sacred words-look! there with his torn clothes, barefooted, his face a flash of lightning, was the son of Mary. The four disciples flocked timidly behind him; and bringing up the rear, dark-eyed and unsociable, was Judas the redbeard.

The burghers were astonished. Where did this riffraff come from-and was that not the son of Mary in the lead?

“Look how he walks. He puts out his arms and flaps them like wings. God has swelled his head and he’s trying to fly.”

“He’s mounting a rock and gesturing. He’s going to speak.”

“Let’s go and amuse ourselves!”

Jesus had indeed stepped onto a rock in the middle of the square. Laughing, the people gathered around, glad that this clairvoyant had appeared. Now they would be able to forget the rabbi’s grave words. “This is war,” he had told them. “Keep the vigil; he’s coming!” He had been booming this hymn into their ears for years and years, and they were sick of it. Now, thank God, the son of Mary would help them relieve their minds.

Jesus waved his arms, signaling them all to gather around him. The place filled with beards, skullcaps and striped robes. Some of the crowd were munching dates to deceive their hunger, others sunflowers, and the oldest and most god-fearing were telling long chaplets with beads made of tiny knots of blue cloth each containing a text from the Holy Scriptures.

Jesus’ eyes flashed. Though he was in front of such a great multitude, his heart felt no fear. He parted his lips. “Brothers,” he shouted, “open your ears, open your hearts, hear the words I shall speak. Isaiah cried: ‘The spirit of the Lord has flowed over me, he chose me to bring good tidings to the poor, he sent me to proclaim freedom to the slaves and light to the blind!’ The prophesied day has come, brothers. The God of Israel has sent me to bring the good tidings. He anointed me out in the Judean desert, and from there I come! He entrusted me with the great secret. I received it and came across plains and mountains-didn’t you hear my footsteps upon the hills?-I ran here to the village of my birth to announce the happy news for the first time. What happy news? The kingdom of heaven has come!”

An old man with a double hump like a camel’s lifted his chaplet and cackled, “Vague words, the words you speak, son of the Carpenter, vague, groundless words. ‘Kingdom of heaven,’ ‘justice,’ ‘freedom’ and ‘grab what you can, boys, it’s all for the taking.’ I’ve had enough! Miracles, miracles! I want you to do something here and now. Perform some miracles to make us believe in you. Otherwise, shut up!”

“Everything is a miracle, old man,” Jesus replied. “What further miracles do you want? Look below you: even the humblest blade of grass has its guardian angel who stands by and helps it to grow. Look above you: what a miracle is the star-filled sky! And if you close your eyes, old man, what a miracle the world within us! What a star-filled sky is our heart!”

They heard him, astonished, one turning to the next.

“Isn’t this the son of Mary? How does he talk with such authority?”

“It’s a devil speaking through his mouth. Where are his brothers to tie him up so that he won’t bite anyone?”