Twenty-Five

Matthew spent a good deal of time after this by himself, when he was not either on a mission with Thomas or following Jesus in one of the excursions when he had something new to impart to his students.

He had become intrigued with the idea that Jesus chose people because following him was best for them in some significant way, rather than for what they could do for the Kingdom, and he began going over carefully the notes that he had jotted down on papyrus almost every night, mainly of things that Jesus taught, but also of significant events.

He had quite a sheaf of them by now, and decided to put them into some kind of order: statements that expanded on or clarified points Jesus had made during the Sermon on the Mount, directions he had given to the students as he sent them out two-by-two, and lately, various denunciations of the Pharisees, Scripture scholars (the ones they called the "scribes," because they knew how to write), and experts in the Law. Jesus, who was so kind and gentle to sinners, seemed to have little use for these virtuous people, calling them "whitewashed tombs" for their hypocrisy and mainly, it must be said, for their unwillingness to grant him even the slightest hearing.

There were a few: Judas, for instance, and even a member of the Supreme Council called the "Sanhedrin," named Nicodemus, who (Matthew had heard) had called Jesus for an interview and been greatly impressed by him--but not enough, it seemed, to leave his post and openly become a follower. Still, it was comforting that there were at least a couple of friends in high places. Jesus would need them.

It was incredible how much time this compilation was taking, because everything was like a plant that sent out its roots in all directions, connecting in all sorts of ways with all sorts of other statements and events that at first sight seemed completely foreign to it. And in addition, Matthew was making little notations on the side of what he had written of Jesus's allusions to something from Scripture, or when Matthew himself noticed an event or saying from Scripture that seemed either to be parallel to or even sometimes to predict what he saw unfolding before his eyes.

He was reminded, for instance, in Joseph's story of Isaiah's prophesy about a maiden becoming pregnant and bearing a son who would be called Emmanuel. Amazing! "God-with-us!" And when Joseph mentioned how Jesus came back from Egypt, he seemed to recall--who was it? Hosea?--saying something about calling "my son" out of Egypt, referring, obviously, to the people of Israel, but which could also apply to Jesus. Was Scripture written with these very days in mind, so that the authors were putting down things that meant more than they realized? The thought fascinated him.

Mary asked him about the pages at one time, and he said, "Well, you see, I do not trust my memory as much as some of the younger ones; and since I can write--though a good many of them also can, you would be surprised--I decided quite early that it would be a good idea to have the sayings in written form, so that I could refer to them afterwards. Who knows? One day, when he becomes King, he may want someone to write his life, as Caesar has done. I am becoming quite adept at it; I even asked Demetrius, whom I used to use as my scribe, if he would teach me the system of rapid writing that they have; he claims to have learned it from Cicero's slave, who invented it."

"Cicero?" said Mary.

"An orator of a generation back, in Rome. He spoke quite rapidly, they say, but brilliantly, and the scribes had to find a way of keeping up with him. It is rather ingenious, actually."

After a while, Matthew had things more or less under control, and decided to test with Judas his idea about Jesus' picking his students--at least the twelve "emissaries"--on the basis of their needs rather than his own.

As he was explaining himself, sitting on a log in a little wooded area with Judas, he noticed Mary come up and sit silently beside him, unable to resist the fact that Judas was on the other side.

Judas glanced up in her direction once, seemed a trifle surprised, and then, with the slightest frown of annoyance, resumed the discussion with Matthew and acted from then on as if she did not exist. Mary's face flamed, but she could not leave.

"I would agree, Matthew," Judas was remarking as she came up, "that he is saying that we ought to be willing to be treated unjustly. But I think your explanation does not go deeply enough. What is behind almost everything he says is that we should not consider ourselves as of any importance whatever. The question is why."

"Well, why, then, according to you? I told you what I think."

"Quite simply, because from God's point of view, we have no importance. He made us, but he has no need of us. How could he? The whole cosmos is a game, from God's point of view; he is completely self-sufficient, from which it follows that each and all of us, and in fact all of everything but himself is completely superfluous.

"This, of course, is nothing very new, though the Master did not learn it from the philosophers who have worked it out, especially in Greece--but there are some good Roman ones also. The Master's genius--or I suppose I should say, his gift from God, since that is what it is--is to amalgamate Stoic philosophy with the Hebrew creator-God; and not only to do it seamlessly, as he has, but in such a way that it seems the logical consequence of Hebrew theology, not Gentile philosophy. He seems to be indicating that it will spread the Hebrew theology over the whole world; and he might just be correct."

"But . . .--I do not understand. What of God's choosing Abraham and Moses, and all the rest of it?"

"Ah, Matthew, I am a bit surprised at you. You are so astute at untangling the sayings of the Master, and you do not realize that Abraham and Moses and the Exodus and the Judges and so on are stories rather like what the Master tells; they may have something to do with what happened--I suspect that there really was an Abraham, and a Moses, of course--but a Moses who was reared to be a Prince of Egypt, and who only began to lead the people out when he was eighty years old? This alone should tell you that they are myths written to make a point to people who were too primitive to understand the truth unless it is encapsulated in a story.

"It is only now, when we have come in contact with the greatness of the Gentile civilizations, however humiliating it may be politically, that we are sophisticated enough to be able to grasp the truth of the world God made."

"But then," said Matthew, "if we are of no importance to God, why did he choose his people? And why did he bother to send the Master?"

"To show through us the way to peace. If you do not consider yourself or anything concerning yourself to be of any importance, then no pain, no suffering, no reverses or humiliations can touch you. You are totally free. 'The truth will set you free,' he said recently, remember.

"But I think Matthew, you are interpreting 'sent by God' a little too literally. The Master was certainly 'sent by God' in the sense that he learned what he knows, not by studying, but by a kind of instinct for the truth; he is in contact with the Creator of this world in some intimate way that I do not understand--and no doubt he does not either--but that I have heard about, and which has occurred earlier, but less spectacularly, in the prophets, and especially Moses."

"You think he is another Moses."

"No, I think he is even greater than Moses. What I do not think is that it means that God looked down and saw him and said, 'I choose you, because I care about these fools down there, and I want to send a message to them through you for their own good.' Jesus was 'sent' in the sense that the Power that created the world flows through him and into his consciousness; and he can put into words--words not always easy to understand, not surprisingly--how this Power relates to the world he has created, and how we should behave to be consistent with our place in it."

Matthew thought of Jesus's mother Mary and the visit from the angel, and the prophesy about the maiden and God-with-Us. There was something not quite right here.

"But then what is the meaning of all his talk about everlasting life?"

"Ah, that! That simply means a life different from the one we live ordinarily; it is a life like his, in contact with the Creator, and at peace with itself and with everything around it, removed from the cares and sufferings of this world. It is 'everlasting' because it is the same kind of life, as it were, that the Creator himself lives--and his is everlasting, of course. It does not mean that we will never die. We will not, naturally, be concerned about death or dying, if we 'change our thinking,' as he demands we do; if you care nothing about anything that happens to you, why would it concern you whether you live or die, or how? So it is a life not preoccupied with death, that is all. You see?"

There was a pause, and Matthew replied pensively,"I see what you are saying, Judas, and it makes a good deal of sense. A great deal. But . . . I do not want to believe it."

"I can see that. We would all like to be like that child Philip, and simply take everything literally, swallowing contradictions as though they were pieces of bread. Or would you rather be like Simon the Revolutionary, and have to twist the Master's profundities into silly plans for the conquest of Rome? Your problem, Matthew, is that you have a mind, and a mind that can reason. Be glad you have that kind of mind, and not one like the Master's."

Matthew turned to face him. "What do you mean? How could I compare my mind with the Master's?"

"You cannot. And that is your salvation. He can save you; but I will tell you a secret. I am afraid he might not be able to save himself."

"What are you saying?"

"Even he sees it, I think. Have you noticed how he has more and more often been dropping hints about how he is going to be killed?"

"How could I not have done? I have been hoping and praying that it is just another metaphor."

"I fear it is not. He does not know why he will be killed, I think--or rather, he does know, but since it deals with him, he is misinterpreting it.

"You see--I have been noticing this for some time, and with increasing pain and sorrow--this power flowing through his body is driving him insane."

"Insane!"

"Yes, Matthew, I fear. You have no idea how much it grieves me to say this--to think it!--and I have spoken not a word about it up to this moment to anyone. But you have a mind and a tongue which can be discreet, and I simply must tell someone."

Mary drew in her breath audibly. Matthew, who had forgotten about her presence, was reminded of it, and wished that she was not there. But how could he ask her to leave? And the damage had already been done.

"--first time I noticed anything of the sort," Judas was saying, "was when he named Simon the Rock, do you remember? Simon called him the Prince, which he certainly must be if there is to be one, and which we all knew; but Simon also said, if you recall his exact words, 'The Prince, the Son of the Living God.' Do you remember how surprised he looked?"

"I remember. I took it that he was surprised that it was Simon who said it."

"Most of us did. I think he was surprised at what he said, because I think that at that moment, it occurred to him for the first time to believe that it was true; that he was in fact the Son of God.

"That is, since God is inside him, inspiring him all the time, and giving him the power to cure and even to bring the dead back to life--I personally think, if they have not been dead long--he seems to have begun thinking of this sonship a good deal more literally than we imagine. Notice how he has been acting lately. He now calls himself the Son of Man, as if he were something else that took this upon himself, so to speak; and notice how secretive he has become with some of the more spectacular cures. It is as if he does not--yet--want people to know something."

"But what?"

"But what? Exactly. That he is a prophet, and God is with him? No, everyone knows that. No. What he does not want people to know just yet is that he is God Himself!"

Matthew was silent, while "Emmanuel" and Joseph's story flashed in quick succession through his head. They could not be lying or deceived, and if not, then Judas had hit upon not only what Jesus thought he was, but what he actually was. Jesus must have known iit, but not perhaps explicitly until Simon mentioned just those words. Joseph had said, "he recognized things."

All this took but a few seconds. Judas continued, "I see that you are shocked, because it sounds like blasphemy. But what I think it is is that he has become insane. It is perfectly understandable, but insane. And, of course, it is blasphemy. He thinks that it is true; but he is astute enough to realize that everyone else is going to think that it is blasphemy. No one is going to believe that the God of Abraham is another one in the Greek pantheon who comes down as a bull and rapes a beautiful maiden, having a son by her who is half-divine, half-human. It is unthinkable. God is not that sort of thing. Those gods do not exist and cannot exist. Our God is the only God there is, and he is a spirit, not a male in heat."

"Of course. But then, what are you driving at?"

"Simply that, since he believes that he is God--God the Son, if you will, since he does not believe he is some kind of hero like Hercules; he knows too much about God for that--he is looking for the right moment to inform people of it, and some day, he will find it, and the people . . . will kill him. He foresees it himself."

"But this is terrible! Dreadful!" said Matthew. The unthinkable was going to happen! He would lose Jesus, his only reason any longer for living!

"It is tragic! He is without question the greatest man, and the holiest man, who ever lived. No one has ever been in closer contact with God; but the very source of his greatness is destroying him, little by little, every day. I know not what to do about it; as I said, I have not uttered a syllable of my fears until today. If I were to so much as suggest it to anyone but you, I would probably be killed myself!"

"I cannot believe it."

It must not be true!, he thought. But he said it himself!

"I fear that you will not have to, and quite soon. Now that I have pointed it out to you, you will see it happen yourself. It is like one of those Greek dramas. His statements about himself are becoming wilder and wilder, as he thinks we are more and more prepared by his wonderful deeds to accept them; and eventually, he will say something no one can accept--something so outrageous that no sane person can even listen to it--and he will be denounced to the Council. I know; I am a priest myself, remember, and I know that they are already looking for something that will remove him from bothering them. His lack of meticulousness about the Sabbath does not endear himself to them, especially when he makes them look foolish for objecting to it."

"So you think that he will finally say something openly blasphemous." He would have to, if Joseph's story was true, and how could it not be true?

"I do, because he will not think it blasphemy, because he will sincerely believe it to be true. And once he says it, they will bring him to trial, and he will be too honest to deny the charge, precisely because he believes it to be true--and believes it sincerely, since he is mad. And he will die."

"You mean he will literally be crucified?"

"I fear so. Unless--unless the Power that courses through him gives him some spectacular means of escape at the crucial moment. But in a way, that might be worse, because then he will have won the conflict with the authorities, and we will be ruled from then on by a man who is convinced that he is God. But as I say, the Power, I think, enables him to save others; but I do not think it will be effective if he turns it upon himself. You see, what I consider inevitable is that the Council will find some way to twist what he says into sedition against Rome--and this will be simple if he lets Simon the Revolutionary have his way to the least extent--and once Rome comes on the stage, then it will be out of our hands, and all the force of the whole far-flung empire will be against him. He sees this too; because after all, he is saying that he will be crucified, and we do not crucify people. Yes, you will see him hanging on a cross."

"No!" But, Matthew thought, what of his prediction that he would return to life on the third day afterward?

"He has said so in so many words."

"But he keeps adding that he will come back to life on the third day afterward, like Jonah."

"Ah, well, of course, he would come back if he were really God, to prove that this is what he is. But . . ."

"No! No! No! It cannot be! You are mistaken!"

"I am sorry Matthew. You have no idea how sorry. Perhaps I should not have told you."

Matthew stared at him openmouthed for what seemed forever. Finally, he said, in a calmer voice, "No, you are wrong, Judas. You must be. The Master would never allow him to perform miracles, if--"

"You must remember that the Master is more of a Power than a person--"

"Now that I cannot believe! That is blasphemy!" He wanted to say, "And what of the angel that appeared to his mother? What of that? But of course, that was not to be mentioned.

"Have it your way," said Judas. "But you have quite a few of the Judean priesthood against you. I admit that there are many who would agree with you. The trouble is that facts are facts, and whether you believe that I am right or wrong makes very little difference to what the facts are."

"But that also goes for you, Judas. You are extremely intelligent, and you seem to have reason on your side, but what will happen will happen. Your thinking that you are right will not make you right, if you are wrong."

"If I am. Believe me, Matthew, I would be overjoyed to be proved wrong. I love the Master, and it crushes me that his own mind is betraying him into destroying himself--and so needlessly! But we have not long to wait, I think. If I am correct, very soon he will be making some claim about himself that only a madman can accept. And he will ask us to accept it with no compromise. I am no prophet, but I see everything converging on this."

They parted. Matthew in his agitation, could barely stand up and walk, and he noticed Mary still sitting there, shaken to the core by what she heard. He longed to go to her and comfort her, but what could he say, except something he knew in confidence, and which she would not believe if he told her?

He wandered through the woods by himself, as he thought, trying to calm himself enough to think rationally once again. After a while, his legs ceased shaking, and his breathing became more normal.

He was about to go back to see if he could do something for Mary, when he noticed her also nearby, standing in the dark on a path beside a huge oak, shaking her head.

--Suddenly she started, feeling something brush lightly by her back, as Judas passed behind her. She froze for a moment, and then finally looked back to see him walking away down the path she had turned from, apparently totally oblivious to the fact that he had touched her.

She frowned in puzzlement, wondering whether he was aware of her, whether he felt her or not. Matthew was absolutely certain that it was deliberate. Judas wanted her to respond: to go up to him and speak. Matthew knew little of assignations, but this certainly looked like how one would go about such a thing--or perhaps it was simply jealousy on his part. Jealousy? Of what? Not jealousy; disinterested concern for Mary. Mary was still in a weakened condition, especially with Judas, and if she even suspected that Judas was interested in her, she might relapse into her old life--which would be a calamity!

Judas did not turn and look back; it might have been that he had noticed nothing--except that Matthew could not believe it. Matthew had had a vague suspicion previously that there was something not quite right about Judas, despite his obvious good qualities, and this seemed to confirm it.

Mary remained for a while, looking after him even after the trees hid him from sight, and then with great effort managed not to follow, but to turn and go back to the camp. Matthew was elated at her victory.

But he decided to go after Judas himself, with no concrete idea what to do or say. What could he say? Ask if Judas realized that he had brushed against Mary? He would simply deny it--not know what Matthew was talking about. Worse, he might even laugh at Matthew's concern about a woman who obviously knew how to take care of herself with men, and claim that he had not touched her, since after all, she neither spoke nor followed him.

Matthew finally caught sight of him a little deeper in the woods--and then saw him brush past young John in exactly the same way! John frowned and wheeled about, but Judas had already gone down the path as though unaware that anyone was there--and it was a narrow path, with trees and brush crowding it, except for the little clearing that John had been standing at the edge of, studying the stars he could see through the opening.

John looked as if he were going to follow Judas and ask what he meant by this, but then evidently thought that it was accidental and Judas perhaps were unaware of it, and so he turned back and resumed what he as doing.

But Matthew, more than ever convinced that Judas knew exactly what he was doing, shook his head, troubled, and went back to the camp.