Twenty-Eight

The next day, after a night of very little sleep, Andrew was walking about, pondering what he had heard and trying to find some way--some "spiritual" way, that people could eat the meat of Jesus's body and drink his blood; but the only thing he could think of was the metaphor of killing him and being saved by his death. But that was so strained that it could not really be what Jesus meant. And he had predicted his death and resurrection, so why do it in these esoteric terms? But what other sense could it have?

He happened to look up from his musings, and saw John, and decided he would go and see what he thought. But as he approached him (he was at quite a distance), he saw him go over to Ezra and start a conversation. Andrew, who felt uncomfortable around the black man, though he had nothing against him, thought he would not join them, and was about to turn away, when something strange happened, and he stared, fascinated.

Ezra had gone behind John, as if to test something John was saying, and hugged him, pinning his arms. Andrew thought he had seen James do this once or twice to keep John from one of the tantrums he used to throw. Perhaps John had been explaining what James had done to him, and Ezra was asking whether this was what it was.

But then Ezra went back in front of John, and smiled and licked his lips--and then went up to John and hugged him from in front, and kissed him, deeply! Andrew was shocked.

They stayed together for perhaps half a minute, and then Ezra put his hand over John's privates and took John's hand and put it over his own, which was creating an enormous bulge in his tunic. At this, Andrew wanted to turn away in disgust, but kept watching, to see if John would start a fight, and perhaps might need his help.

John, however, took his hand away and put it against Ezra's chest, and pushed--but it seemed feebly--and Ezra backed off a step or two and held up his hands as if in surrender. The two stood there, looking at each other, panting. With desire?

Ezra made some remark, which John answered. it seemed that John did not, after all, want to go on with this, in spite of the fact that his own tunic showed that he was aroused also. It was as if John was trying to explain to Ezra why he did not want to do anything, and Ezra was answering that he saw nothing wrong with it. (Ezra was even playing with his organ.) Nothing wrong with it! Well, he was a slave and an African; what could one expect?

At any rate, after some more words on both sides (Andrew was too far away to hear even the sounds), Ezra seemed to ask if John were angry, and John went over to him and gave him a--brief, to be sure--hug, and they parted.

So that was John's secret vice! How loathsome!

--On the other hand, if it were his secret vice, he was obviously struggling against it, because there was no question of the fact that he was attracted to Ezra. But what did that hug mean? It looked as if it meant, "Let us be friends, but no more than that." Ezra seemed to have spotted John's attraction and responded to it; but John did not want to act on the attraction. But still did not want to treat Ezra as scum. How could he, if he was attracted to him? It was so complicated!

--And then Andrew thought of his own attraction to Mary Magdalene. He could not help it, and he fought against it, but it would assert itself against his will. Was he so very different from John, then? Why should he treat her as scum, now that she was reformed?

"Of course, I could get married to her, and how could he marry Ezra?" he said aloud, and then realized what he was saying. He, marrying Mary Magdalene! The most notorious prostitute and corrupter of men in all of Judea and Galilee! His wife! "As well fold a cobra!" he remembered. Granted she was reformed--if she was--but think how many men had had her! And perhaps she had children or even abortions from them!

"But it is still not the same thing!" The very thought of what John and Ezra would do to each other--which had only the vaguest form in Andrew's mind--made him want to vomit. How could they? How could John, of all people!

But of course John did not do those things, apparently; he resisted Ezra--who Andrew could easily believe would have no problem doing them, whatever they were. But on the other hand, Ezra, from what he saw as he looked at Mary, had no difficulty being attracted to her also. Ezra just had a very loose, it seemed, view of such matters.

At any rate, it seemed that John and John's attraction were very similar, morally speaking, to Andrew and his attraction to Mary. In both cases, it was an attraction that one wanted nothing to do with, but which was there in spite of oneself, and which one struggled to keep nothing more than an involuntary attraction. So why should he despise John, if he did not despise himself?

"But John's attraction is perverse--" and mine is not? Is it not perverse to want what he saw was completely unacceptable? "But it is not unnatural, and John's is!" But what difference did that make, if the object of the desire was a person who could not fulfill it?

"It is not the same thing!"

Granted, but is it different in anything relevant?

The point is that both he and John wanted something that they should not pursue, let alone fulfill; and both resisted the impulse and wished they did not have the impulse--at least based on what Andrew saw.

And in fact, when one thought upon it, John resisted under much more serious circumstances than Andrew ever did. Could Andrew resist if Mary actually made advances to him? His incipient arousal at the very idea was a good clue as to what the answer would be. So John's virtue was greater than his probably would be; and so why should he despise him, and be disgusted at the thought of him, as he now was?

That was the point at issue, was it not? His automatic disgust was not against John as a person, but against what John would be if he gave in to his impulses--just as Andrew was anything but admirable if he gave in to his envious impulses against Simon and his impulses of superiority against those who did not seem as clever or virtuous as he regarded himself.

--But how did John get those impulses? But then how did Andrew get his? They were just there. But nature gave John his? Not any nature Andrew was familiar with! But how was that John's fault?

Perhaps he had done something when he was younger. But then why was he resisting now? And why, if he had done something, did it not disgust him as Andrew's contemplation of it disgusted him? And Andrew had not see the slightest sign that John was attracted to the effeminate boys in the neighborhood. He made fun of them just as everyone did. To cover up his attraction? But Andrew could not remember the least hint that there was an attraction.

Of course, he was not looking for one.

This was ridiculous! John was, as far as anyone could see, perfectly normal--until just this moment. And Ezra was hardly a man-woman either. They were both very masculine.

But the point was that John, if he had these impulses--and it certainly seemed obvious that he had them, however he got them--did not want to act on them, and so we were back to his impulses and Andrew's attraction to Mary--which, if it was natural, was still an impulse that Andrew had no intention of acting on.

He then remembered something that Jesus had said a few weeks ago; something that puzzled him at the time. They had been talking of divorce, which Jesus said was never permitted, and he then said something to the effect that there are eunuchs that were made so by nature and other eunuchs that were made so by men, but that it was a blessing for one to make himself a eunuch for the Kingdom.

It did not make much of an impression on Andrew at the time, but now that he thought upon it, it seemed to mean that "it was a blessing" to keep oneself a virgin and never marry. He seemed to recall Simon's saying that if one could not get divorced, it made no sense to marry, and Jesus answered with this business about eunuchs.

That is, it seemed to indicate that it was better to stay as he was--something that, until Mary appeared, he had no particular trouble with. And now that Mary did appear, it certainly did make no sense to marry!

Or something. The whole thing was nauseating!

Oh, yes, Andrew, you are a paragon! You despise people like John who are saints, because of the sins they are not committing and are in fact resisting--and you do precious little to resist your own vicious impulses! You did not even know you had them until just recently! What did Jesus say the other day? "You impose impossible burdens on people, and do not lift a finger to help them!"

--So what to do? Should he avoid John? Why? John was no "danger" to him. Was he a danger to John? He saw no indication of it. Mary should be the one he ought to avoid, if anyone. No, he should not avoid John, and should keep being his friend--which warmed his soul, since John so obviously admired him. John was still John, and no worse because of what his temptations were--in fact, perhaps better as a person because of them and his resistance. All of us have temptations; but temptations are not sins.

Still, he hoped he could do it. John felt repulisve to him now. Well, if he could be decent with Mary and not either flee her or pursue her, but simply treat her as a person, why could he not do this with John, who was in fact admirable in so many ways?

Life was full of complications.

Fortunately, he soon had a distraction. Jesus and the students were, as usual, in a synagogue, (Andrew wondered how he had got there, he had been so lost in thought) and Andrew noticed that his popularity was still high despite what he had said the other day, probably because he continued to perform cures that were increasingly amazing; and so the synagogue was as packed as before. After a short while, there was a stirring from outside, and eventually word came through to the front that Jesus's mother and relatives were at the door, wanting to see him.

"Who is my mother?" said Jesus when he heard this, "and who are my relatives?" He raised his hand and waved it over the congregation. "Here are my mother and relatives. Anyone who listens to what God says and acts on it is my mother and my sister and my brother." So now his relatives were "spiritual" relatives. There was more spiritual significance to everything as the hours went on. God grant that the spiritual significance of eating the meat of his body would come out soon!

He looked over at John, who obviously had his own serious troubles--which Andrew could imagine. He even heard him once say aloud, "Stop that!" and look around, to see if anyone heard.

Jesus, having heard the news about his relatives, curtailed his discourse and went outside, where he found his mother and a number of people Andrew had only seen in passing: Jesus's cousins.

"I would not disturb you," she said in calm voice, "but they insisted that they wished to speak with you as soon as possible--and finally, I told them I would see what I could do."

"They understood well the best approach," said Jesus. Then he turned to a group of two or three others who were with her. "But you knew that there was no necessity for this. I am still what I was; I have not changed from the time we played at castles and soldiers in these very streets. I am not some Caesar, who grants audiences."

"True," said a thin, pale man, half a head taller than Jesus. He was a little younger, it seemed, perhaps in his late twenties. He fingered his robe nervously, and temporized, "It was the crowd. We tried to get by them to see you, and could not force our way in--and we thought that if you knew we were outside, you would come out to meet us."

It was obvious that this was a half-truth, perhaps even a little less. At least in this man's case, the fact that his playmate had become a miracle-worker and a preacher of such intense power had intimidated him.

"Actually," said a very brown man whose beard was beginning to be grizzled, though his hair was still black. He had enormous eyebrows and a nose rather more sharp than most, "I was the one who wanted to see you before I left to go back to Alexandria. We are both too busy, are we not?"

"I do seem to be rather occupied at present, James," replied Jesus. "I am sorry I did not make more leisure to have a long chat. You leave soon?"

Ah, this must be the James that Andrew had heard had gone to live in Alexandria, wherever that was. That was fortunate, since the group did not have to contend with three Jameses.

"--morrow, I fear. Business. But I have heard much about you--in fact, there are a few stirrings as far away as Egypt, would you believe, and not simply among the relatives you have there, either. Not much, you understand, but your name begins to be mentioned now and again. And that was my real motive for speaking to you. You must leave this place for Judea so that you will have an audience for what you do. People do not do great deeds in secret, they want to be noticed. If you are a magician, you must go show yourself to the world."

Evidently Alexandria was in Egypt. This man must be a merchant of some sort. Clearly, he had not actually seen what Jesus had been doing, if he thought of him as a "magician."

The others nodded, and the first one said, "The Festival of the Booths is near. You could come down with us. We would be delighted to have you."

Jesus smiled at them, and said, "Thank you for your concern, Joses--to all of you," with a special nod at James, "but the right time has not come for me yet. For you, any time would be a good time, because the world does not hate you. But the fact is that it hates me, because what I do proves to it that its deeds are evil."

James tried to make a demurrer, and Jesus answered his thought, "No, I am deadly serious. You go down to the festival; I cannot accompany you, I am afraid. It might be dangerous."

They made polite noises of insistence, but they were short-lived. The rumors of Jesus's wild statements had doubtless reached them, and these last remarks of his tended more than anything to confirm suspicions that he might indeed be mad.

"Well," said James, "I thought it a good idea to propose it; but I can see that it has already occurred to you, and doubtless you have good and sufficient reason for what you are doing. As to me, of course, I must go and make myself ready for the journey. Some one of these days, we must get together and talk. And if you ever do come down to Alexandria, my house, as always, is open; and you can be sure that I will put in a word in certain circles and see to it that you are well received. From what I have been hearing, if you continue as you have been doing, there will not be a sick person left in Galilee or any of the surrounding countryside."

The others murmured assent, and each found an excuse to leave. They clearly did not know what to make of this new person, for all of his protestations that he had not changed.

Finally, only Jesus' mother remained, greeting all the students. John seemed especially happy to see her. Had he not consulted with her before he went down to Jerusalem to study? She walked back with them to the place where they were staying, which was not an encampment this time, but various houses in and around Capernaum. She was staying there also, not in Nazareth.

She remained with them the night and the Rock and John prevailed upon her to stay for most of the next day also. It passed with little fanfare, like a day in the middle of Spring, which one does not notice while it is passing, because it is a kind of paradigm of what a day should be, and only afterwards reflects on its peace and contentment, wishing it could have continued forever.

Everyone had already been gone for two days to the celebration in Jerusalem before Jesus said that he had decided to go after all, and the group left, going along the Jordan once again.

And on the trip, sure enough John took Jesus aside, and had a long conversation with him--which Andrew could wager was about what happened with Ezra, and what he should do. Well, it just showed that John was an admirable person, and not one to be avoided.

Jesus said something in parting that was loud enough for Andrew to hear: "And do not be afraid, because of all this, to love me. Do not be afraid to love anyone, in fact. Or to express it by a hug, for instance--but not as David would wish you to." Whoever David was. But that was, as with everything Jesus did, meant to be overheard by Andrew. He was not to be afraid to express his love for John by a hug either.

Next