Eight

Jesus seemed to have reached the house he had mentioned. He stopped in the doorway, and immediately a rather large crowd began to gather around him. Matthew was glad that he had been near him from the beginning, or he would soon not have been able to press close enough to hear clearly.

Jesus began a speech or sermon, which Matthew was too tired and befuddled to follow, since he was too concerned with whether his sins had been simply erased, or whether he was expected to pay for them somehow. Would he have to give up all that he owned? And how would he find those he had cheated? And how could he bring himself to ask them to take back what he had in effect stolen from them? It had been years. Decades! And he would have nothing left! What was he to do? Eke out a living as a scribe? --And it was a certainty that once his victims found out what he was doing, others would claim that he had cheated them also, and would be stealing not only from Matthew but from those he owed restitution to. It was an impossible task. Of course, Jesus had not yet even hinted that he had it. For that matter, he had simply hinted that his sins had been erased, which was what Matthew had so desperately needed, whatever the consequences. How could the boy's father's death be erased, in any case? What could it mean?

There was a commotion behind Jesus in the house. Something was going on on the roof, but Matthew, with the group of Jesus' followers of the morning, was too close to see what it was.

Suddenly, the ceiling opened, and a stretcher came down through a hole made in the thatch of the roof. A young man was lying on it, and came to rest just at the feet of Jesus, who was actually standing slightly inside the doorway, talking to the crowd that packed the space in front of the house.

Jesus looked at the youth, and then up through the hole in the roof, and said to the--evidently paralyzed--boy lying there, "Child, your sins are forgiven." The boy's face suddenly lit up with relief and joy; it was as if this was what he had hoped for, rather than the obvious, to be free of his paralysis. Matthew's face glowed also. He did forgive sins! --Or at least, he said he did.

But now Matthew heard muttering from the crowd, which seemed to contain some people learned in the Law. "Why does he speak thus? This is blasphemy! Who is able to forgive sins except the one God?" That seemed true enough. Matthew's spirits fell again. But was he not saying that God was to take over as King? Perhaps his reign had begun, somehow.

Jesus looked over the crowd, at one or two of those who had been complaining. "Why are you having debates about this, and harboring evil thoughts? Which is easier, to tell him his sins are forgiven, or to tell him to stand up and walk?

"But to let you know that the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins," and he turned to the paralyzed lad, "I tell you, stand up, take your stretcher, and go home."

And the boy stood up, and crying, "Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" picked up his stretcher, and went off, leaping and shouting.

Everyone was awestruck. "We have never seen anything like this." "Praise God!" "How did he do it?" "Strange things are happening today!" "Then his sins must have been forgiven!" "Nonsense!" "What else could it mean? You heard what he said!" "But if only God can forgive sins--" "Yes. What then?"

"I do not understand it."

Nor did Matthew. But he had said, "to let you know!" What he did almost sounded as if it were as much for Matthew's sake as the boy's, and what he said clearly seemed addressed to him as much as to anyone else, did it not? Was he not asking for evidence on that very question? But what nonsense! Yet he knew about Matthew when he not have seen him. The whole thing was completely bewildering.

Everyone was milling around, no longer listening to what Jesus said, but discussing what he did, gradually wandering off. Matthew seized the opportunity, approached Jesus, and said, "Did you mean what you said to me? Are they gone? Have I really begun a new life?"

"It seems a good deal like the old life in many respects, does it not?"

"But I do feel born again, in one sense. I feel as if I am an infant, and must learn how to live from the beginning. I must learn everything. I know nothing. Nothing!"

"Well, you will find that you have not really died, not totally, Matthew. The old self is still very much a part of you, and if you continue, more and more of you--the old you--will be killed off. I do not say that it will not be painful and perhaps fearsome to face; but it will be temporary, and eventually, you will rise to a new life. I mean that quite literally, by the way."

"I do not understand it."

"Small wonder, after such a short time. None of the others understand it either. But they will learn, in time for the reign of God to start."

"What I do not see at the moment is how I could possibly make amends for what I have done! I have been considering it, and it terrifies me! I would do it if I could, but . . ."

"Do not concern yourself. You forget that the Master is really in control of everything, and even uses evil for the benefit of those who seem to be harmed. You saw that young man? He regarded his paralysis as a fitting and just punishment for his sins, and actually wanted to protest what his brothers were doing in lowering him through the roof. He knew that what he needed was to have the sins removed from his soul far more than the infirmity from his body. But if he had not become paralyzed, he would not have been placed beside me, and his sins would not have been taken away. The evil was a condition for what he needed. And you saw him when I told him. He believed it. Had he not believed it, it would not have happened."

"Then, in my case--" Matthew hesitated. How could he say to Jesus' face that he did not believe, really.

Jesus laughed. "Your problem, Matthew, is not that you do not believe, but that you do not believe that you believe. Of course, how could you, with all this thrown at you at once, especially after nearly being killed." Did he know that also?

Then, great relief swept over Matthew. He perhaps did believe after all.

"And you will notice how ecstatic the lad was when his paralysis was removed, as confirmation of the fact that the real gift had been given him."

"Then, somehow all will work itself out in my case also?" It was too much to hope for. But then, what had happened up to this moment was already too much to hope for.

"You will find that the new life is a life of peace. --A different kind of peace, I must admit. But much that seems impossible will happen, and much that seems necessary now will not be necessary--at least, in the way you think it is."

"You speak in enigmas, you realize."

"On the contrary," said Jesus, "I speak with great clarity; it is simply that people cannot believe what they hear."

Matthew thought for a few moments. "It must be so, if you say so." He did not know what he himself meant, now.

"But you wished to see my father, did you not? He is a bit less ill than he was, and now might be a good opportunity."

"I would not trouble him, Master."

"It would do you both good. He needs to tell what he knows to one who will listen, and you, I think, need all the information you can amass to assure yourself that this is not all illusion. They call me a mountebank, you know. For instance, I could have arranged to have that boy pretend to be crippled and lowered through the roof, just for the effect."

That thought had crossed Matthew's mind briefly, and quickly been brushed aside. But it had been there. His cheeks blazed, and he could say nothing. Jesus laughed again. It was embarrassing to be with someone who knew one's every thought.

"There are other reasons for your seeing him," said Jesus, "which will only emerge much, much later, and so we will let that pass for now. We will have a bit of a walk to Nazareth, but it will perhaps not be too difficult for you." And he started off around the northwest corner of the Sea of Galilee, almost on the trail that Matthew's assailant had led him two nights ago.

During the long walk, they spoke of many things, but Matthew was not really paying attention, merely making what he hoped were reasonably intelligent replies, and trying to save his breath. His body was beginning to work out the pains from his previous exercise, and acquire new ones in the process. At the same time, his mind kept flitting from one thing that had happened to another, refusing to rest on anything long enough to do more than greet it, as it were, before it flew to a second wonder and then a third.

He noticed at one point, to his surprise, that he and Jesus were alone, and wondered how it was the others had left them--and then supposed that this was another trick of Jesus, who for some reason wanted Matthew only to be at the interview with the father. Perhaps because he was ill.

But if he was ill, Matthew thought, why did Jesus simply not cure him with a word or a touch, as he had cured the paralytic? He looked up at Jesus, who had at the moment fallen silent, walking briskly along the wagon track, but not so rapidly that Matthew could not keep up--though with some difficulty. Matthew supposed that if Jesus did not cure his own father, he had sufficient and serious reasons.

Or perhaps he could only cure some people, or--Matthew knew not.

Nazareth was a good distance away, and the sun was past its zenith when they approached a modest house--which Matthew remembered was the one that had the carpenter's shop that he had sought when he decided to build his mansion halfway to Capernaum.

"Mother, do you remember Levi, the tax-collector whose house we once built?" Jesus said as he greeted her. "He calls himself Matthew now."

The woman, who must in fact have been in the middle of her forties, but seemed no more than seven or eight years older than Jesus himself, took his hand and said, "I am happy to see you. I seem to remember you, but I regret to say that I do not always pay strict attention to my husband's customers."

"There is no reason that you should," said Matthew. "It was a purely business transaction." She had a remarkably winning smile, making her appear even younger.

"I brought him here," said Jesus, "because he thought he would like to see my father again, and it seemed good to me that they should have a bit of a chat."

"Oh?" It was not really a question, merely mild surprise. "At the moment, he is awake, sitting up in the bed, looking out the window--quite bored, truth be told."

"Then he might not mind if I brought Matthew to meet him?"

"I think he would be glad of any diversion. Actually, it is fortunate, since I must go to the well to replenish our water supply. I hope you will excuse me if I do not join you."

"We will undertake not to cause him too much fatigue. I do not suppose it tires him to speak of Jesus," returned Matthew.

"Oh, he could go on for days!" she answered, and picked up the jar, putting it on her head. "I will return before sunset, unless the gossips corner me by the well."

"We will not leave him alone, you may be sure," said Matthew. And she left.

Jesus then led Matthew into the room at the back, whose window looked over the hills to the southwest, where the sun was just outside of the line of vision, but was casting its light into the room, making it cheerful.

"Father, do you remember Levi, the tax man?"

"Ah, Levi! It has been--how many years now?"

"It must be seven or eight. It seems that I have been at that work for centuries, but I think not in that house much longer than that."

"Yes. You were so meticulous about every detail, I remember." He looked knowingly at Matthew. "Especially some." Matthew caught that he was referring to the secret chambers for money. "If you do not mind my alluding to them." Matthew made a gesture that it did not matter. After all, both of these people knew all about them. "Has everything worked out to your satisfaction?"

"Perfectly." Joseph's lips widened in a smile. "I tried as hard as I could to find fault with the house, and to my consternation, I had nothing to complain of." Joseph now laughed outright, though rather feebly. Matthew found that he was talking partly to cover the shock at looking at the man, who was once vibrant and powerful, and now sat on the bed, propped up on pillows, lifting a cup with some difficulty up to his lips to moisten them. He was not shrunken, exactly; the shoulders seemed as wide as ever; but he clearly had lost the strength of those arms that had made no trouble manipulating huge logs and planks of wood. His hair had, of course, begun to turn gray; judging by Jesus' age, he must have been in his late forties.

Matthew felt constrained to say, "I am sorry to see that you are not well. I hope we are not tiring you."

"Not at all. I feel almost no discomfort, except that occasionally my heart wants to dance the horah at odd moments. Even that does not hurt, but it creates a feeling like fright--or perhaps excitement--that sometimes quite takes my breath away. Other than that, and that my strength seems to have gone off somewhere on a vacation, I have nothing to complain of." Matthew thought that if he put his mind to it, there was enough in what he told him to fill whole days with complaints. But there was no point dwelling on what could not be helped, he supposed--if indeed, Jesus could not have helped him, had he wished.

Joseph looked a question at Jesus, who said, "Matthew--he calls himself Matthew now"

"That is actually my real name," said Matthew.

"--has recently decided to become a student of mine, and seems a bit--shall I say, startled--at what he has seen so far. He expressed a desire to see you, and I thought it might be a good thing for you to tell him about me."

"To tell him all?" asked Joseph, rather surprised.

"Someone must know. Eventually, the whole world will have to know. Matthew just might be a vehicle by which what has been hidden may be revealed." Matthew looked over at him. It seemed that Jesus had a role for him to play in this new Kingdom, whatever it was. Well, what of it? He would probably be glad to do it, and if not, he could always refuse, as he had once run away from Pontius.

"Indeed," said Joseph, thoughtfully. He paused. "Where to begin?"

"If you do not mind," said Jesus, "I would leave the two of you alone. I have some items to attend to. You can find your way home, I trust, Matthew. I will meet you there on the morrow, and we will see what happens from then on." And he came over and kissed his father on the forehead. The father took his hand in both of his, and, without a word, looked into his eyes. Then Jesus held Matthew's hand for a moment, still saying nothing, and passed out the door.

Joseph nodded to Matthew and then to a seat beside the bed, where the Mother must have spent many hours keeping him company. "Well," he said. Then after a pause, he remarked, "He thinks I will perhaps speak more freely if he is not present, no doubt. And no doubt he is correct. . . . I suppose, if you have seen what he does, you wonder why I am as I am."

"The thought did cross my mind," answered Matthew, sitting.

"He told me once that he wished to spare me the agony his mother, for some reason, was destined to undergo. I do not pretend to understand what he meant, other than that it was a delicate way to tell me that I must die soon, and that he was not going to try to prevent it, because he thought it best. Well, I suppose it is. Certainly it is, if he says so."

"I am sorry."

"Do not be. I have done what I had to do with my life, now that he is pursuing his vocation, and I am certain his mother will be able to manage without me." He looked out the window. "Of a surety, without me as I now am, though she never complains. And in any case, in my trade, there would not have been too many more years for me. Wood seems to become heavier as time wears on."

"I am glad that you can be so philosophical about it."

He laughed, again the gentle, half-laugh of one who does not wish to tax his breath too much. "Oh, when you hear what I have to say, you will understand that I have no qualms about facing death--rather the reverse, if anything.

"But enough about me; you wished to hear what Jesus really is, did you not? He is not what he seems to be--and yet he is what he seems to be."

"You speak in enigmas, you realize," said Matthew. "Like your son."

"He is himself an enigma, as you doubtless have already discovered. What I mean is that your impression of him is not a false one. But let me begin, and you will see."