Seventeen

So the next day they began the four-day trek through Samaria to Jerusalem, following the valley of the Jordan river, and as they approached Jericho, the landscape changed into a strip of green along the river, bordered on both sides by high hills (or perhaps low mountains) of nothing but brownish gray dirt and rocks. Matthew always found this singularly depressing, not to mention oppressively hot and stifling as they entered the trench of the huge Dead Sea, so full of salt that nothing lived either in or around it.

He seemed to recall that one of the prophets he had read while he was studying at Pontius' house had said something about water trickling from the Temple some time in the future, becoming a river, and flowing presumably along what was now the Kidron Brook, somehow continuing east through the mountains to this sea, which it made fresh, so that fish could live in it once more (if they ever had). Now that would be a miracle! Perhaps in the Reign of God it would happen. Who knew? So many astounding things had already happened that an earthquake opening a pass through the mountains would be taken as a mere matter of course.

But this was all ridiculous. The prophet had to have been speaking in metaphors.

Did he not?

Speculation about this kept Matthew busy and his mind off the dismal scenery, until they made the climb and Jerusalem came into view. At least there were trees and grass here--especially cypresses, pointing their long fingers at heaven--as well as buildings, walls, and bustle.

They found a place to stay for the night: a garden full of olive trees, appropriately on the Mount of Olives, which belonged to someone Jesus knew. He had relatives here, it seemed. But he sent word to a friend of his who lived nearby in Bethany, named Lazarus, that he had arrived in the area, and would dine with him and his sister Martha as usual on the morrow.

The next morning, they crossed the Kidron brook and went back into the city, going around the wall for some reason, and entering from the north by the Sheep Gate.

Jesus paused at the Bethesda Pool nearby, walking along the five porches that surrounded it, looking with pity on the blind, sick, lame and paralyzed people lying there, but doing nothing for a while. Tradition had it that at irregular intervals, the water would be disturbed--some said by an angel--and the first person to enter the water when this happened would be cured.

Finally, Jesus saw what seemed to remind him of something, since he stroked his beard and stopped by a paralyzed man, who had obviously been lying there a long time. Matthew asked someone how long he had been sick, and was told, "Thirty-eight years, if I recall correctly."

Jesus looked down at him and said, "Would you like to be cured?"

"Master," said the man, who had no idea who the person speaking to him was, "I do not have anyone to put me in the pool when the water churns up; and while I am going there myself, someone else gets in before me." He would have had to drag himself along by his hands; everything below his waist was completely useless.

"Stand up," said Jesus. "Take your mat, and walk."

And the man suddenly became well. He leaped up and picked up the mat he was lying on and began walking about, praising God. He was too excited at first even to turn and thank Jesus, who watched him for a while and withdrew.

That day, as it happened, was a Sabbath. Jesus had performed cures before on the Sabbath, and when he did so, Matthew had noted, he did not himself actually do anything, with the result that it was difficult for anyone to accuse him of "working" on the Day of Rest. Matthew remembered one instance in a synagogue where he had simply told a man with a withered hand to stretch out his hand, and he stretched it out and it was as sound as his other one. It was a cure, but it drove his enemies to distraction, because all he did was speak; and the man himself did nothing but hold out his hand. It was certainly not a violation of the Sabbath to speak or move one's hand. But it set his opponents buzzing among themselves as to how they could counter him.

Here, however, things were a bit different. True, he had again done nothing himself but speak, but he had commanded the man to stand up and walk--and carry his mat, which was work, at least as the Pharisees would define it. But what was the poor man to do? Leave the mat there for someone to steal?

Matthew saw that a new step had been taken. Clearly, it was deliberately done to present the Pharisees with a challenge. Jesus had said once in Galilee when his students had picked ears of wheat to eat on a Sabbath (and he had cited King David as justification) that "the Son of Man is Master even of the Sabbath," which enraged them.

Here was a command that anyone with a mind could see made perfect sense, and yet which violated the rules by which the authorities had interpreted the commandment to keep the Sabbath holy. Would they blindly adhere to their tradition, or would they look at the miracle and see that indeed the Master of the Sabbath was here, and begin to believe in him?

Though Jesus was nowhere to be seen, Matthew stayed and kept watch on the man, and it was not long before some of the Judean Pharisees and priests said to him, "It is a Sabbath. You are not allowed to be carrying your mat."

"But the one who cured me," said the man, "told me to take my mat and walk."

"Who is this man who told you to carry things and walk with them?"

"I know not. He was there at the pool."

"Find him. We have several things to say to him."

The man began looking about, and finally went into the Temple, which was not far away, where Jesus met him, and said, "Now you have been cured. Do not commit any more sins, or something worse might happen to you." The man went down on his knees and thanked Jesus, and then asked some of his followers who he was. On finding out, he went to the authorities and informed them that the one who cured him was Jesus of Nazareth, the one everyone had been calling a prophet.

At this, a Pharisee came up to Jesus and snapped, "What is this that we have been hearing and seeing? You perform cures on the Sabbath and tell a man to carry his mat and walk?"

Jesus looked over calmly at him and replied, "My Father has been working right up until now; and now I am working also."

"How dare you! You are all but calling yourself God! Beware! People have been stoned to death for less! And if you do such things, you have no right to do them on the Sabbath!"

"Amen amen I tell you," said Jesus, "the Son can do nothing by himself; he only does what he sees the Father doing; what he does, the Son does in the same way. But the fact is that the Father loves the Son, and shows him everything he is doing."

He looked around at the people who had quickly gathered about him, sensing a controversy. "And he will show him even greater things than this," he continued, "and you will be amazed. Just as the Father brings the dead back and gives them life, the Son will give life to anyone he pleases."

This, Matthew thought, was coming closer than ever to claiming that he was God. Certainly the Pharisees were going to interpret it that way.

He was continuing, "--time is coming--has already arrived--when corpses will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who listen to it will live again. Just as the Father has eternal life in himself, he has given the Son the possession of eternal life in himself; and he has given him authority to judge because he is the Son of Man."

One man near Matthew remarked, "So this Son of Man is the Son of God, is he?" Another said, "And we are supposed to hear his voice from the grave and come out and walk around? Ridiculous!" The first said, "He certainly has a low opinion of himself, has he not?" A man standing in front of him turned around, and said, "Well, he did make a crippled man completely well with just a word. I saw it; he simply said, 'Stand up and walk,' and he did!"

"So?" said the first speaker. "Curing a disease is one thing. But this bringing the dead to life and claiming to be the Son of God is something else!"

"Be quiet! He is still speaking!"

"--were simply acting as a witness for myself, my testimony would be worthless. But there is someone else who has testified about me, and I know how solid his evidence about me is. You yourselves sent people to John, and he gave testimony that was true. I have no need of human testimony; I am saying this for you to be rescued. He was a burning, shining lamp, and you people found pleasure for a while in his light."

"Who is this 'John' he speaks of?" asked one. "You remember," was the answer. He was down at the Jordan, bathing everyone. Some thought he was Elijah come to life again, and announcing that the Prince God anointed had arrived." "Ah, and this one is saying he is the Prince!" "Well, he has not exactly said so as yet, but one can see where he is headed.""But of course, you see," said the one who had objected at first, "if he is the Prince, he is the son of David. But this one is calling himself the Son of the Master Himself!"

"--Father himself is a witness on my behalf--though you have never heard his voice or seen his form."

"You see?" said the objector, and then shouted at Jesus, "Neither have you, my friend!"

"--what he says has no home in you is clear from the fact that you do not believe in the one he sent. Search the Scriptures, since you think that there is where you will have eternal life. They are evidence about me. But you refuse to come to me and have life!"

"I find nothing about Nazareth and Galilee in the Scriptures!" said someone. "Why should I come to you?"

"I care nothing about what people think of me; but I know you; you do not have the love of God in you. I came in my Father's name, and you will not accept me. If someone else were to come in his own name, you would accept him. How can you believe me, if you simply take what everyone else thinks about a person and do not try to find out the opinion of the one true God?"

"Well, we certainly are not going to take the opinion of the one who is standing before us!" muttered the man standing next to Matthew. "His opinion of himself is a bit too exalted for a lowly Scripture scholar like myself to be able to agree with." Others were voicing similar sentiments, and they drowned out Jesus for a while.

He was going on, "--Moses, the one you set your hopes on. If you believed Moses, you would believe me, because he wrote about me. But if you will not believe what he wrote, how can you believe what I say?"

A hand was laid on Matthew's shoulder. He wheeled around, and faced Longinus. "Someone would speak with you," he said in Latin, "if you have a moment."

"So you did come to Judea, after all," responded Matthew in the same language. Those around stared at them, wondering what they were saying.

"Yes, I have been here a month or more. It seems that I have found some favor with your friend, especially because that master of yours is making more and more noise as time goes on. Look at today, for instance."

"But you heard nothing that was anti-Roman, did you?"

"No, not from the little I could follow. I am not as fluent in Hebrew as some, you realize."

"Well there was nothing at all."

"He was certainly saying something that made people excited. What was it all about?"

"Oh, he had cured a crippled man by simply telling him to stand up and walk; but it is our Sabbath, you know, and the man was not supposed to be walking about carrying his mat."

"Why not?"

"Well, some of the authorities would consider that doing work, and the Sabbath is supposed to be a day of rest."

"Is that all it was?"

"Well, not exactly; but it becomes complicated to explain."

"What among you Judeans does not become complicated as soon as two of you begin speaking? But will you accompany me?"

"What choice have I? You have the sword."

"Now now, it was an invitation, not a command. My commander would like to speak to an old friend that he has not seen in years."

Matthew was not certain that he would be able to return from this 'interview,' but as he correctly stated, what choice did he have? And so, chatting reasonably amicably, they went into the fortress beside the Temple, and he was ushered in to Pontius Pilate.

Pilate held out his hand with a beaming smile that Matthew remembered all too well, and said, "Well, Matthew! Salve! --or should I say, Shalom?"

"Pax, Pontius," said Matthew, translating the Hebrew greeting. He continued in Latin, "At least I hope it is peace. You know, one of our prophets said, 'They say, "Peace!" "Peace!" And there is no peace.'"

"That is one of my major goals in this city, and why I am here during your festivals, instead of by the sea in Caesarea, in the rather comfortable palace Herod made for himself." His smile widened. "I had a feeling I had not seen the last of you! Underneath that beard, I can still see the old Matthew!"

"And though you have changed considerably, I also would recognize you anywhere."

"I had heard that your--" He paused, looking for the right word.

"Master," said Matthew.

"Master, then. I thought you might have some aversion to the word." His smile broadened further, if that were possible.

"He is master in the sense of 'teacher,' more than anything else; but yes, he is master also, though I was not sold to him, and can leave him whenever I wish."

"You could have left me thus also, you know; I realized that your stay with us was only temporary, and would have let you go whenever you pleased."

"That is very kind of you. But you see, a slave is not really in a position to be able to count on such things, and I thought it more prudent simply to disappear."

"And 'disappear' you certainly did. I understand. I had considerable trouble finding you, with the name change and all. But of course, I did not want to lose a friend, especially someone who was as brilliant as you. --I know," he continued, holding up a hand to forestall remark Matthew was about to make, "you worked very hard at hiding it, you and Marcus both, but I am not a complete dolt, and it soon became evident that you had far outstripped me. I care not. You had your own reasons for learning languages, and mathematics, and I had other goals in mind.

"And at least until recently, we seem to have fulfilled our ambitions, have we not? Our mutual friend Longinus has told me of your villa, which I found flattering, and the reputation you have had for fabulous wealth. I would expect nothing less of you."

"Pontius, I have nothing. Not a denarius." He thought again of the secret chamber, and his face grew hot.

"No doubt." The smile, which had relaxed, was back. "At any rate, my rather extensive efforts to discover your location finally bore fruit, as you know, and I was in a position to assure you that I wished you no ill."

"And to use me if occasion offered. Let us be honest, Pontius."

"Well, there was that possibility, of course," said Pontius. "It always helps to have a friend who is a native, and is not consumed with hatred for the occupying army. I trust I gave you no reason to hate me--or Rome."

"No, not especially. It is not easy being a slave, of course. I tried to treat my slave--whom I just freed, by the way--as well as I could, but he was glad to be free, as was I. But I must say that you did nothing special to make it difficult."

"I always regarded you as more of a friend and companion than a slave."

"Yes, the master may do that; but unfortunately, the slave cannot, simply because he is a slave. But we are no longer master and slave, I assume--because if we are, I will kill myself on the spot." And he put his hand on his dagger.

"Come, come, Matthew, we must not be rash. No, of course we are simply friends, and can speak to each other freely."

"Very well. I only wished to make everything perfectly clear at the outset. But you did not ask to meet me merely to renew an old acquaintance, or you have changed greatly since last we saw each other. Can we come to the point?"

"You certainly do speak freely." A wide smile. "I think you know what the point is. I need assurance that this master of yours--in whatever capacity he is your master--is not going to cause me trouble."

"As to that, I see no sign that he has any animus against Rome. If he 'causes trouble,' as you put it, it will be with the religious authorities, the Law-experts and Scripture scholars, and the faction that calls itself the Pharisees."

"I see. If it is merely a question of academic disputes--" Another pause.

"Well, it is not that simple. Nothing with us is that simple, as you know. But if a serious clash arises, it appears that he is the one in danger, not anyone else. They would kill him now, in fact, if they thought they could do it with impunity. I doubt if they will be able to do so, but that is certainly their wish. He is undermining their authority over the people."

Pilate put his palms together, holding the tips of his index fingers against his lips. "So it could become serious The question for me, then, is whether he has enough of a following that I can expect riots if there is a clash."

"It is a possibility, I suppose. But as to a clash, there will be none unless he wishes it. I saw a group of people seize him and try to throw him off a cliff, and suddenly he was simply not there."

"Not there?"

"No one could explain how he had escaped. I myself witnessed it, and one instant they had him in their hands, completely surrounded, and the next, there was no one. He did reappear afterwards--to me, interestingly enough, as I was walking along alone, and he acted as if nothing had happened."

"He has some kind of real power, then. It was not simply a clever trick?"

"Believe me, he has. Just today he cured a man who had been crippled for thirty-eight years by telling him to stand up and walk. They say, though I did not see it myself, that once he was in a boat, sleeping, and a squall came up, almost swamping it, and they woke him up and he told the wind and the waves to be quiet, and they obeyed him."

"In truth?"

"So they say. Coincidence? Possibly. But frankly, from what I have seen myself, I can believe it--or put it this way: I would not dismiss it out of hand."

"Ah, so you have certain doubts."

"Would not you? Even if you saw such things? Confronted with some of what I have seen, I have a choice between thinking that the world is about to enter an entirely new era--which is what he seems to be claiming--or doubting the evidence of my own senses. I go both ways."

"It must be exciting, following such a man."

"In some ways, it is terrifying."

"No doubt. But the upshot is that you do not think that he poses any real threat to Rome."

"At least, he has given no hint of this so far, and it does not seem probable. And to be realistic, we are perhaps the worst possible people to form the entourage of a political ruler, whatever this Reign of God he speaks of is. But one never knows, given what I have seen him do. I can tell you this: If he decides to take over power from Rome, nothing you can do will be able to stop him."

"Well," And the smile returned, "I might find reasons to disagree with you there."

"I am not saying that he would muster and army and conquer all your legions. What is far more likely is that he would simply hold up his hand, and all of you would fall back, prostrate yourselves, and lay down your swords."

"Yes. An amusing prospect. Well, what I would be interested in is if you find some indication that he does intend to replace the Emperor, you would alert me, so that I can take whatever feeble counter-measures we are capable of."

"I see no harm in that. Of course, I am going to inform him of this conversation, so that on his side also, he will know what to expect."

"Of course. I am not asking you to be a spy, Matthew, only a friend who is not unwilling to have a chat from time to time on mutual concerns."

"I assume he will find no objection to that. If he does--" He let it hang.

"If he does, we will deal with that also. But I have other matters to attend to, as you may imagine, Matthew. It was a pleasure to see you once again."

"My honor."

And the attendant escorted him out.

Matthew found the group still in the Temple, ready to head out of town to the village of Bethany, about an hour's walk away. Lazarus, who Matthew had been told was a banker, greeted Jesus with what seemed to be a strange mixture of pleasure and distaste. He was extremely fastidious; his robes were impeccable, and his manners elegant, and he obviously considered this Galilean to be something of a curiosity, like animals some people had trained to do tricks.

His sister Martha, on the other hand, a very practical woman, took a very different attitude. She was clearly the brains of the family, though she was intelligent enough to leave Lazarus with his illusions, and was one who admired and respected--not to say revered--Jesus, and was predisposed to believe that he was God if he said he was.

She was also quite an engaging woman, as Matthew found out when he had entered into conversation with her--Lazarus, when he heard that Matthew had been a tax-collector, ignored him--and said, "I have seen him perform miracles, Matthew, miracles!"

"As have I, many times. Not the least of them, from my point of view, is that he saved me from what I now realize was a life of torment."

"Yes, he is amazing, is he not?" She swelled with pride. "I persuaded Lazarus to invite him to dine whenever he is in Judea, and he comes! And he has told me," she lowered her voice confidentially, "that he will find my sister for me and bring her back, if she is willing; or if not, will give me news of her!"

"Your sister has been lost?"

"These many years. We lost her, I remember, the day our rabbi's house burned down and his poor, dear crippled wife died in the fire. He has not been the same since, poor man. Nor have we, because of our sister. We searched and searched, but never found a trace of her. But I cannot believe that she is dead, and the Master has all but confirmed it!"

"I am sorry for the loss."

"But do not be. The Master will see to it that everything will be explained and turn out well."

"Well I hope for your sake that it happens."

"Oh, it will happen. I am sure of it."

They had a very elaborate dinner, and Matthew noticed that Lazarus gave all his attention to Jesus, who of course was lying on the dining-couch just in front of him, not because he was particularly interested in what Jesus said, but so that he did not have to look at the other members of the group, many of whom were not over-fastidious in their table manners.

After the dinner, they were seated about, talking, and Jesus said, "This banquet made me think of a story." (He had lately begun speaking in analogies and stories.) "There once was a rich man who wore richly dyed clothes of the finest linen, and who dined sumptuously every day. A poor man named Lazarus--" he glanced over at Lazarus, in his richly-dyed linen robe, "--with a body full of pustules, used to lie by his gate, hoping to feed off what had been left on the rich man's plates. Even the dogs would come and lick his sores." Lazarus made a face at the image.

"Finally the poor man died and was carried by angels to the place of honor in Abraham's banquet," At this, Lazarus' began to take notice. "And the rich man died too and was buried.

"He looked up from the land of the dead where he was suffering, and saw Abraham a long way off, and Lazarus next to him at the banquet.

"'Father Abraham!' he shouted. 'Be kind to me! Tell Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and come here to cool my tongue; I am in agony in these flames!'

"'Son,' said Abraham, 'remember: you had your good time while you were alive, and Lazarus had as bad a time. Now he is the one who has comfort, and you who suffer. Besides, there is a huge chasm set between all of you and us, and so not even anyone who wanted to go from here to you could manage it, and no one can pass from there to here.'

"'Then please, Father,' he said, 'send someone to my father's house--I have five brothers--and warn them not to let themselves come to this place of torture!'

"'They have Moses and the prophets,' said Abraham. 'They must listen to them.'

"'They will not, father Abraham, but if someone were to come back to them from the grave, they would change heart.'

"He answered, 'If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, they will not believe it if a dead person comes back to life.'"

Matthew saw what a stinging rebuke this was to Lazarus: not only to give the name to the poor beggar, but all but to say that Lazarus was headed for torment if he kept up his attitude and way of life. He was obviously, by using the name, trying to shock him into paying attention.

But it was completely lost on him. He heard him say to a friend who had also been at the dinner, "You see how he is? He tells these stories that do not have an atom of sense to them, and has everyone enthralled. Fascinating! I was hoping something like this would happen, to show you what he is like!"

"You took no offense that he used your name?" The friend, who caught the meaning of the story, was struggling to say something polite.

"Offense? I am flattered! I have never heard him use a name in his stories before; and after all, he put me in the place of honor beside Abraham himself!"

"To be sure he did," said the friend. "Yes, I suppose he did. Of course--"

"Oh, now, do not go trying to make sense of it! He simply tells these things to amuse himself. And he amuses me also, since I see everyone racking their brains trying to plumb the profound meaning behind his stories, and there is no meaning; it is all a game of his!"

"If you say so."

"Believe me, it is true. I have known him for quite some time, and he says the most outrageous things to shock people, but he is quite harmless, really. Once one sees this, it is a delight to be with him."

Matthew went off, shaking his head. He glanced over at Martha, and saw that she too was troubled by what she heard.