As he spoke he grew continually angrier. Soon he was banging his forked staff down on the ground and shouting.

Jesus smiled. “Old man,” he replied, “once upon a time there was a marble throne at the eastern gate of an important city. On this throne sat a thousand kings blind in the right eye, a thousand kings blind in the left eye and a thousand kings who had sight in both eyes. All of them called God to appear so that they might see him, but all went to their graves with their wishes unfulfilled. When the kings had died, a pauper, barefooted and hungry, came and sat on the throne. ‘God,’ he whispered, ‘the eyes of man cannot bear to look directly at the sun, for they are blinded. How then, Omnipotent, can they look directly at you? Have pity, Lord; temper your strength, turn down your splendor so that I, who am poor and afflicted, may see you!’ Then-listen, old man!-God became a piece of bread, a cup of cool water, a warm tunic, a hut, and in front of the but, a woman giving suck to an infant. The pauper stretched forth his arms and smiled happily. ‘Thank you, Lord,’ he whispered. ‘You humbled yourself for my sake. You became bread, water, a warm tunic and my wife and son in order that I might see you. And I did see you. I bow down and worship your beloved many-faced face!’ ”

No one spoke. The old man sighed like a buffalo and, putting forth his forked staff, disappeared into the crowd. Next, a young man, newly married, lifted his fist and shouted, “They say you hold fire to burn up the world-to burn up our homes and children. Is this the kind of love you claim to bring us? Is this the justice: fire?”

Jesus’ eyes filled with tears. He pitied this newly married youth. Truly, was this the justice he brought: fire? Was there no other way to attain salvation?

“Tell us clearly what we have to do to be saved,” cried a house-owner who then elbowed his way through the gathering in order to come close for the answer, since be was hard of hearing.

“Open your hearts,” thundered Jesus, “open your larders, divide your belongings among the poor! The day of the Lord has come! Whoever stingily retains a loaf of bread, a jar of oil or a strip of land for his final hours will find that bread and that jar and that earth hanging around his neck and dragging him down to hell.”

“My ears are buzzing,” said the house-owner. “Excuse me if I leave, but I feel dizzy.”

He went off in a rage toward his rich villa. “Listen to that! Divide our belongings among the scabby rabble! Is that justice? Damn him to hell.” Mumbling to himself and cursing, he continued on.

Jesus watched him disappear. “Wide is the gate of hell,” he said with a sigh, “wide the road, and strewn with flowers. But the gate to God’s kingdom is narrow, the way uphill. While we live we may choose, for life means freedom. But when death comes, what’s done is done and there is no deliverance.”

“If you want me to believe in you,” shouted a man with crutches, “perform a miracle and heal me. Shall I enter the kingdom of heaven lame?”

“And I leprous?”

“And I with only one arm?”

“And I blind?”

The cripples moved forward in one body and stood threateningly in front of him. Losing all sense of restraint, they began to shout.

A blind old man lifted his staff. “Cure us,” he howled, “or you won’t leave our village alive!”

Peter ripped the staff out of the old man’s hands. “With a soul like yours, buzzard eyes, you’ll never see the light!”

The cripples drew together and became ferocious. The disciples became ferocious in their turn and placed themselves next to Jesus. Magdalene, terrified, put out her hand to bolt the door, but Jesus stopped her.

“Magdalene, my sister,” he said, “this is an unfortunate generation-all flesh. Habits, sins and fat crush their souls. I push away flesh, bones and entrails to find the soul, and I find nothing. Alas, I think the only cure is fire!”

He turned to the multitude. His eyes were now dry and pitiless.

“Just as we scorch the fields before sowing, in order for the good seed to thrive, so shall God scorch the earth. He has no mercy for thorns, tares or tarragon. That is the meaning of justice. Farewell!”

He turned to Thomas. “Blow your horn. We’re leaving!”

He put forth his staff. The benumbed people made way and he passed through. Magdalene ran into her house, seized her kerchief and-leaving the wool half spun, the earthenware pot on the mantel and the poultry unfed in her yard-tossed the doorkey into the middle of the road; then, without looking back, silent and tightly wrapped in her kerchief, she followed the son of Mary.

Chapter Twenty-Three

THE NIGHT was in its infancy when they arrived at Capernaum. The squall had passed over their heads. The north wind had blown and pushed it toward the south.

“We’ll all sleep at our house,” said Zebedee’s two sons. “It’s big, and there’s room for everyone. That’s where we’ll set up camp.”

“And old Zebedee?” said Peter, laughing. “He wouldn’t give a drop of water to an angel.”

John reddened. “Trust in the master,” he said. “His breath will have a good effect on him, you’ll see.”

But Jesus did not hear. He was marching in front, his eyes filled with the blind, the lame and the leprous… Ah, if I could only blow on every soul, he thought, and cry to it, Awake! Then, if it did awake, the body would become soul and be cured.

As they entered the large market town, Thomas inserted the horn between his lips in order to blow. But Jesus put out his hand. “Don’t,” he said. “I’m tired…” And indeed, his face was pale and the flesh around his eyes had turned blue. Magdalene knocked at the first door to ask for a cup of water. Jesus drank and recovered his strength.

“I owe you a cup of cool water, Magdalene,” he said to her with a smile.

He remembered what he had said to the other woman, the Samaritan, at Jacob’s well.

“I shall repay you with a cup of immortal water,” he added.

“You gave it to me a long time ago, Rabbi,” Magdalene answered with a blush.

They passed by Nathanael’s cottage. The door was open and the master of the house stood in the yard under his fig tree. Pruning hook in hand, he was removing the tree’s dead branches. Philip quickly cut himself off from the group of travelers and entered.

“Nathanael,” he said, “I have something to tell you. Stop your pruning.” He went into the house. Nathanael followed and lighted the lamp. “Forget your lamps, your fig trees and your house,” Philip said to him, “and come.”

“Where?”

“Where? But haven’t you heard the news? The end of the world is here! Today or tomorrow the heavens will open and the world will be reduced to ashes. Move quickly and enter the ark so that you can be saved.”

“What ark?”

“The bosom of the son of Mary, the son of David-our rabbi from Nazareth. He’s just returned from the desert, where he met God. The two of them talked and decided on the destruction and salvation of the world. God placed his hand on our rabbi’s hair. ‘Go and choose who is to be saved,’ he said. ‘You are the new Noah. Look, here is the key to the ark so that you can open and close it,’ and he gave him a key of gold. He has it hanging around his neck, but the human eye cannot see it.”

“Speak clearly, Philip. I’m all confused. When did all these wonders take place?”

“Just now, I tell you, in the Jordan desert. They killed the Baptist, and his soul went into our rabbi’s body. To see him, you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s changed-grown wild, and sparks fly from his hands. Why, just now at Cana he touched the paralyzed daughter of the centurion of Nazareth, and all at once she jumped up and started to dance. Yes, I swear it by our friendship! We mustn’t lose any time. Come!”

Nathanael sighed. “Look here, Philip, I was so well set up, I had so many orders. Look, look at all these sandals and moccasins waiting to be finished. My business was sailing full speed ahead, and now…” He threw a lingering glance around him, looked at his beloved tools, the stool on which he sat and patched, the cobbler’s knife, the awls, the waxed string, the wooden tacks… He sighed again. “How can I leave them?” he murmured.