Sixteen

Jesus continued for the next few weeks with the Twelve, and as they were on the road from one village or town to another, he explained what they were to do. Matthew was to be paired with Thomas, which rather pleased him; Thomas's acerb attitude seemed to camoflage a vivid faith in Jesus, and Matthew found it refreshing not to have to endure the effusions of those who were, so to speak, smitten with him. Matthew himself did not know whether he was more afraid of him than in admiration of him.

"Of course he is terrifying," said Thomas, with his characteristic chop of the head, when Matthew tentatively mentioned this. "The fact that he can drive out a devil with a simple word clearly implies that at a word or a glance he could fry any of us to a crisp." Another chop. "But he will not. I think of myself as a kind of pet of his--a dog that he has acquired, which he will put up with for no other reason than that it is his. I am not quite as loving and fawning as most dogs, of course, (chop) but he seems willing to make allowances."

Matthew thought of his own dogs, and how these ferocious brutes reacted to Jesus, who seemed to expect of them nothing more than what they were, and loved them just for what they were. There was perhaps hope for Matthew yet.

Apparently, in their mission they were to put into practice the attitude of poverty by actually being poor. The group as a whole had quite enough money to sustain itself, from the donations that members and those cured gave; but the pairs of students were instructed to take no extra clothing or provisions, and to rely solely on the hospitality of those they were to preach to. And if they received none, they were to shake the town's dust off their sandals in testimony of how they had been treated.

It was an adventure, and the first time Matthew laid his hands on a crippled man and saw him get up and dance about for joy, he thought his heart would burst. That same day, Thomas rebuked a demon, and it threw the man down in convulsions and actually left him. It was amazing, unreal.

They haltingly explained that God was going to take over the land as its king, and the world was about to become a very different place; and the people would have to prepare their minds for this. When asked in what way, both Matthew and Thomas were understandably vague, but said that it would become clearer later; they were merely preparing the way for the Master.

At evening, they would return to the group, and report what they had done and said, receiving Jesus' commendation, and advice how to deal with this or that difficulty some of them encountered. Matthew did wonder how successful these excursions really were; but if the Master was approving of them, who was he to question? And of course, there was the prospect that Jesus himself would visit the towns afterwards, in his own time, to clarify and strengthen what they had begun. This seemed a necessary step to Matthew. Such tentative preaching, even with a miracle or two to back it up, was bound to be ephemeral.

One day, before they set out, the whole group was together, when a young man, dressed in what Matthew immediately saw was very expensive clothing, understated in only the way that those accustomed to great wealth could do, came up and knelt before Jesus. "Good teacher," he said, "What should I do to gain eternal life?"

"Why are you calling me 'good'?" said Jesus. "No one is good except the one God." The boy was taken aback, and so was Matthew. He thought, "Did he say that because, since he is good, he is the same as the one God, and he wishes to hint at this to the lad?"

Jesus was continuing, "--ments: You are not to kill, you are not to commit adultery, you are not to testify falsely, you are not to defraud; honor your father and mother."

The boy answered, "Teacher, I have done all this from the time I was very young."

Jesus looked fondly at him, and said, "Then there is one thing left for you to do. If you want to be perfect, then go, sell what you have and give the money to the poor, and this will open for you an account in heaven's bank; and then come and follow me."

The boy's face fell. He looked down at his clothes, and surveyed the others around Jesus (even Matthew had taken to wearing quite ordinary clothing, not to stand out), and after a long pause, turned and walked off.

Jesus gazed after him, wistfully, and said, "How hard it is for a rich man to put himself under God's rule! It is harder for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to subject himself to God!"

Matthew gasped in shock.

Andrew's brother Simon blurted, "But then who can be saved?"

"With men, it is impossible," answered Jesus. "But everything is possible with God."

Simon replied, "Yes it is! Look at us! We have left everything and followed you!"

"Amen I tell you," said Jesus, "That those of you who have followed me, when everything is reborn, when the Son of Man assumes the throne of his glory, will yourselves be seated on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel! And everyone who has left his house or his brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or property for my sake will receive a hundred times as much in this age--along with persecution--and in the next age will enjoy eternal life! And yet" he added, "many of those who are now in the first place will be last, and many of the last will be first."

There it was, thought Matthew. Was he to be like the young man, and doom himself to luxurious misery, or was he to abandon everything to Jesus, and trust--the fatal word--that he was not in fact losing anything, but gaining everything? Could he do it?

"With men it is impossible," he recalled; "but with God everything is possible." The question was not whether he could do it, but whether he would do it. And he knew he would, though the thought actually made him shudder in terror.

He went up to Jesus, and said, "I think I must go to my house, Master. I had told my slave Gideon that I was going to take all my treasure and use some for us and have him distribute the rest to the poor farmers I have defrauded, leaving the house and some of the remainder for him, since I am also giving him his freedom. I have kept putting it off until now, but with your help and God's, perhaps I can actually do it."

Jesus looked on him with the same fond smile he had given to the young lad. "If you wish to contribute something to us, see Judas to discuss how much it should be. The poor should not suffer that we might live in luxury. And take heart. Tell yourself constantly that the only thing you are giving up is what you yourself realized was a curse. It had become stuck to you, that is all. It will not be easy, tearing it off, and I warn you that you will not suddenly feel joy and relief. In one way, you are like your dogs you have trained to be vicious. To make them tame and gentle will not happen in a day or even a year; and you have been trained far longer than they have. But one cannot live a new life without starting."

"Please look after me, then."

"Have no fear, Matthew. You will find the new Matthew on the other side; he will be remarkably like the old one, except in essentials."

Matthew was not quite sure what to make of this, and after a brief conference with Judas, he headed pensively for home, now convinced that he would have to go through with what he intended, since he all but promised to bring what amounted to a considerable sum to the group.

David asked where he was going and would have accompanied him, but he told him that he had a difficult task to perform, and he wished to be alone, but that he would doubtless return by nightfall. David stood gazing after him, puzzled.

Several times along the way, he almost turned back, saying to himself that he need not do it today, and would probably feel more capable on the morrow with a good night's sleep. "As if," he answered aloud to himself, "I would be able to sleep, facing this on the next day." He was well aware that what seemed reasons for a delay were lies; but his aversion to what he was to do was so strong that at one point he had an impulse to throw himself off a cliff he was passing just to end the torment. He realized how absurd this was, since he had nothing to dread, having spent weeks already in the condition he would be in on the morrow; but his other self told him that it was not the same. As he was, he could always turn back, and he would be safe, living off the wealth he had acquired. On the morrow, he would have nothing but Jesus.

"As if that is nothing!" he told himself. And then his mind turned back to the nagging question of whether he really believed what Joseph had told him, and whether the miracles of Jesus were really the signs they seemed to be. He recalled what Joseph himself said, "One believes and does not believe, somehow, even when one sees. I had trouble believing it my whole life, partly because everything was so normal." If even Joseph had had trouble believing it was all really true, how was he to be expected not to have doubts? What is the evidence of one's own senses, in the last analysis, but a kind of testimony that has a thousand interpretations? Was he now dreaming, for instance, that he was walking along this road, or not?

It all came down to trust. Would he trust Jesus, or would he trust the gold that had been stored in the secret chambers that Jesus put into the house he had built? Put in those terms, the answer was laughably obvious--except for the fact that he had put his trust in gold for so long, that his whole being screamed that the obvious answer was false.

He walked along, then, mainly because he had started in this direction, and momentum carried him beyond the fierce longing to stop and turn back; and finally, he reached the gate. The dogs were out, and, not having seen Matthew for several days, seemed more menacing than Matthew felt comfortable with. He called out to Gideon, who opened the door, saw the situation, and chained the dogs up.

"The time has come, Gideon," he said, and explained about the secret chambers in the house (which he suspected that Gideon knew quite a bit about already), the sum he wished to bring back for Jesus and his followers, and the sum he was going to leave Gideon to live on, "and the rest I entrust to you to distribute among the poor, especially the farmers, and most especially those I have taxed out of what was rightfully theirs. Do you think you can do this?"

"Oh yes, Master. I have been making enquiries already, and I have a plan worked out. It should be no trouble."

"Well, if it is anything like the feast you gave, it should be a resounding success."

"You are very kind."

"No, only truthful. But let us begin." And he led Gideon to the various secret recesses in the walls of the house, collecting the gold and heaping it up in a single room to count it. Both were amazed at the amount there was. "I had no idea it was this much," said Matthew. "All I knew was that I probably had enough to live on if I faced reverses, and often and often I worried that I was mistaken."

"Half a city could live on this for years!" exclaimed Gideon.

"But I was never content. How stupid I have been! Once one starts amassing wealth, it is never enough."

"But do you think you should abandon all of it?"

"That is what has been bothering me all these weeks," answered Matthew. "Why not keep some, just as I am leaving you with some--"

"More than enough, Master!"

"Well, enough, I hope, that you need not worry. But if I keep some for myself, I am like a drunk who decides to take only a single cup of wine at dinner. It cannot be done; once drink has taken possession of him, he must abandon it altogether. I have a friend--" He paused, startled to think that he could actually say he had a friend; but was not Thomas a friend? "--who could verify this, I am sure. No. All the other members of Jesus' close circle have abandoned everything, and have survived very nicely. I need have no fear."

If only he could convince himself of this!

"But now let me draw up a document attesting to your freedom, and one giving you the house and all that is in it, and we will be done."

"You do not know how grateful I am, Master."

"Well, you have been a faithful slave for many years, and even if I have not treated you harshly--"

"Never, Master. The other slaves envy me because you have been so kind."

"Well, as I said, I was once a slave myself, and so I know what the life is like; and I know that even if I have been kind, it is a hard kind of existence. I wish you happiness in your new life."

"And I you in yours, Master."

"And perhaps you will not take it ill if occasionally I return to see what used to be my home and is now yours, and to find out how you are faring."

"Of course, Master; you are welcome at any time."

"No longer Master, Gideon; Matthew." And he held out his hand.

"I know not what to say, Ma--Matthew," Gideon replied, taking it.

And Matthew left, with his gold in a sack under his cloak, half wishing he had Longinus for an escort, to rejoin the group.

--And then remembered, after he was almost at the camp, that he had neglected to empty the special secret chamber he had made on the inside of one of the secret chambers. His "holy of holies," as he used to call it.

He turned to go back, and then said to himself, "Ah, well, it belongs to Gideon now in any case."

But it bit into him. There was considerable wealth in that rather small space, mainly very precious jewels, that he had secreted just for emergencies. Who would think to look for a second secret niche inside an already secret chamber? But it meant, did it not, that he had divested himself of everything without actually divesting himself of everything.

But it now belonged to Gideon: "all that was in the house." But did it, if Gideon knew nothing of it? He turned to go back and inform him, and then stopped. Whether he knew of it or not, it was his, since he owned the house and all that was in it.

Matthew wondered if he had really forgotten about the chamber,, or whether he had "forgotten" it as a way of not doing what he was doing. He suspected that he had at the back of his mind that if worse came to worst, he could go back and retrieve it. It was probably what made "giving up everything" possible for him.

But still, it was Gideon's now, was it not, not his; even if Gideon did not know of it, and was exceedingly unlikely to find it. But if he did not find it and Matthew returned to retrieve it, would Gideon raise any objection? How could he? Technically, it was his, but . . .

The upshot was that, instead of returning, he continued to the camp, telling himself over and over again that the wealth now belonged to Gideon, not himself--but not really believing what he was saying. And so the issue remained undecided, and since he could not come to a resolution, he tried to put it out of his mind. But of course, it rankled, and he finally said to the darkening evening sky, which had begun one of those misting rains in which it was neither raining nor not raining, "I have done what I could. It is his. If I cannot bring myself to do more, then I cannot, and I must trust that the Master will forgive me--if there is anything to forgive. Perhaps if I must do more, then some day I will be given greater strength. But I have given up all that I owned." And his mind answered, "Technically."

When he arrived at the camp, David met him and asked whether he had been successful in whatever it was he was doing. "I know not whether to call it 'successful,' David," he answered. "I am poor now, you see."

"Poor?"

"I gave my house to Gideon and gave him his freedom; and the money I had hoarded I asked him to distribute among the farmers and people I had defrauded--because, frankly, I could not bring myself to do it; I could not bear to see myself parting with all that wealth. He is going to keep back enough to live on, but all the rest is going to be given away--except for this, which is for all of us." And he showed him the rather heavy sack he was carrying under his cloak.

David said nothing, and had a very enigmatic look on his face. He had obviously not expected this. "Be of good cheer, David, as I am trying to be, and trust in the Master. I must do so now it seems."

"I--know not what to say." He looked at him strangely.

"There is nothing much to say, really. If one is to begin a new life, one must begin it. And I have finally begun. The task now is to keep on. But now I must see Judas and rid myself of this last burden." Or almost the last, he thought to himself, remembering the secret chamber. As he turned, he noticed David staring after him, with an odd expression on his face.

After he had given Judas the money, he found that the group was buzzing with what had happened that day. "Of all people!" said Thomas, with a chop of his head. "I would have thought it would be Andrew, or Judas, but Simon!" Another chop.

"I wondered what he meant back there with John," put in young John, obviously referring to the John who had been bathing the people, who was dead now, poor man, murdered by Herod.

"What was this?" asked Matthew.

"You know that John bathed the Master also?"

"Actually, I do know that," said Matthew, thinking of the thunder that spoke. "The son I love," it had said--or seemed to have said.. His hair began to stand up once again.

John was continuing "--drew and I had followed him after John bathed him, and Andrew went to find Simon, and when the Master saw Simon coming, he said to him, 'You are Simon, son of John. You will be called Kephas.' None of us knew what to make of it. Why say that a man was going to be called 'Rock'? Well, now we know."

"We do?"

"Oh, of a certainty, you were not with us today. Well, we were on the road to Caesarea--Philip's Caesarea, you know, not the other one--and the Master asked us who people thought he was. We said that some people called him John returned to life, some a prophet, or some the Great Prophet--"

"A new Elijah," said Thomas. "You must have heard them."

"And some said that he was the Messiah, the Prince God was to anoint as King over all of us." continued John.

"An understandable conclusion," put in Thomas, "given that he is always talking about the Reign of God--but of course, what does that make him? (Chop) It gives one pause, does it not?"

"But then," said John, "he said, 'But who do you say that I am,' and Simon blurted out, as he is wont to do, 'You are the Prince, the Son of the Living God.'

"You see? (Chop) But who would have thought that Simon could do logic?"

"--And the Master looked surprised, and stroked his beard as he does, and said, 'Good for you, Simon, son of John! Flesh and blood have not revealed this to you; it was my heavenly Father!' And then he said, 'And I now say to you that you are Rock, and on this rock I will build my community; and the gates of the land of the dead will not be strong enough to close down over it!'"

"Simon!" said Matthew. "Who would have imagined it?"

"Oh, Simon might have done," said Thomas, with another chop. "He is not given to fits of humility--but there I go being unkind again. But you should have seen Andrew's face! Well, I must not compound the unkindness. But the interesting thing is that the Master seemed a bit taken aback himself at first."

"Still," said John, "there was that prediction that he would be called the 'Rock.'"

"Well, yes," answered Thomas. "But you saw him. He was not expecting this from Simon. Perhaps at the beginning, he knew that there was to be something 'rocky' about him, if I may so speak, (chop) but did not know that it meant that he would be the leader of us all."

"Well, now," interjected Matthew, "just saying what he said did not necessarily mean that he would be over us, did it?"

"Oh, yes," said Thomas, "it was quite clear. John did not finish. He went on to say, 'And I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven, and whatever you lock on earth will be locked in heaven'--whatever that meant--'and whatever you unlock on earth will be unlocked in heaven.'"

"And he used the singular? He was not referring to all of us?"

"He did," said John. "None of us can understand what he meant--except that it has something to do with the Reign of God that he is always speaking of. What I found interesting is that he agreed with Simon, because he said that the one who revealed it was 'my Father in heaven.'"

"Ah, that is his way of speaking," said Thomas; "I would not make too much of it." John did not look too sure, and Matthew was even more convinced that this was probably the crux of the matter. Thomas was continuing "-- seems as if this Reign of God is to last forever, and somehow the Rock, as I suppose we should begin calling him, (chop) is going to have some kind of authority over us--second to the Master, of course. Perhaps when the Master is away, or something, as Andrew was wont to do--and I think Andrew caught the implication, and was not overfond of it. That was what I was alluding to. I must confess that I myself do not relish the prospect."

"But what do you think about this locking and unlocking?" asked Matthew.

"I have no idea," said John, "unless it means that when the Rock (what an odd term) issues a command--"

"God save us!" said Thomas, chopping his head violently.

"--heaven somehow sanctions it."

"From the little I know of him, that is a rather frightening thing to contemplate," remarked Matthew.

"True, he is given to impulses," said Thomas. "And yet, what else could it mean? Unless there is something deeper here, which we have not yet been vouchsafed the key to, (chop) if I may continue with the metaphor--if it is a metaphor. I understand less and less as the days go on."

"What does Judas say about it?"

"Oh, he took it all in, and looked wise and pensive," answered Thomas. "He would do, of course. He cultivates the air that nothing surprises him. But I suspect he is as bewildered as the rest of us."

"Oh, incidentally," said John. "We are to go to Judea tomorrow, for the festival."

"Ah yes," said Thomas. "All the excitement over this had driven it out of my head."

And, still discussing, they went to take their rest. Matthew withdrew a bit and walked about alone for a while, thinking of what the Rock had said. "The Son of the Living God." John had apparently hit upon what Jesus had reacted to, because half of the world thought already of him as the Messiah that was to come. He suspected that this was what Judas caught also, which made him so thoughtful. It was perilously close to saying that he was God--which must be true, in a sense, if Joseph and Mary were not under some kind of delusion.

But if they had the idea that he was the Son of the Supreme Being--whatever that meant--then Jesus must have heard of it from them; and so if it was a delusion, then Jesus would be suffering from it also, bolstered by the things that he had been able to do by what he considered the power of the "Father."

But then, there was the thunder. Certainly, the elements were under no delusion.

"Yes," said Matthew aloud, "If I heard correctly." He remembered that what the thunder "spoke" was not precisely words, though he took that meaning from the sound.

But if it were true? Of course, the son of the Supreme Being did not necessarily make him an incarnation of the Supreme Being Himself, did it? Perhaps he was something like what the pagans believed when their god fathered half-divine, half-human beings. Still, with the true infinite God, how could something be half-infinite and half-finite? If it is infinite, then it is by definition not finite, and vice versa.

But whatever Jesus was, perhaps the world was in fact entering a new age, where anything was possible. And yet, as even Joseph had said, "everything was so normal." But when one thought of it, that attitude of Joseph's, the doubts he had, told against any delusion. He was anything but a fanatic. But how could the infinite God be a man? Did he empty himself into finite humanity in some way, holding most of his powers--his true reality--in abeyance, so to speak, as one closes one's eyes and so 'becomes' a blind man while still able to see? Certainly, Jesus was no apparition; one could touch him and he had to eat like anyone else. Apparitions do not eat.

It was all too confusing. Matthew turned and went back to go to sleep--and as soon as he did so, his temporizing with the secret chamber returned to him and kept him awake for hours.