Thirty

They returned across the Kidron brook toward the Gethsemani garden on the Mount of Olives, the place a friend of Jesus had given him for him to be free of the crowds as he spent the night. Jesus always took only the Twelve there, and asked each of them not to mention where it was, or they would be overwhelmed with people wishing to be cured, not to say enemies. And it had become all to clear that the threat from enemies was now real, and becoming more serious by the hour; so no one was inclined to violate Jesus's injunction. Their own lives hung in the balance.

As the group walked along, Matthew as usual more or less by himself, he began to realize that Mary was now gone from his life, and the pain of the thought almost overwhelmed him. It was kind of Jesus, in a way, to bring him to the meeting of Mary and Lazarus, so that he could know where she was going, and that she would be in good hands--he hoped! Well, at least Martha was competent and intelligent, and Jesus knew what he was doing, he trusted. If only he could trust!--and he would doubtless see her from time to time, for a moment or two at least, if she did not completely forget him.

The fact that she now had a family, and no longer needed to look to him for support, sent him into the depths of despair; and he tried to tell himself that he should be happy for her--and he was, in some sense, and he was, but--"Oh, why do you not wake up?" he whispered aloud to the cypress trees he was passing at the side of the road, the "sad cypresses," some Roman had called them, as they stood so gaunt and thin, "You love her desperately! But there never was any hope! She has never looked at you except as if you were a kindly old man--and I have but seven or eight years more than she, I am sure of it!--and you feasted on that morsel of crust as if it were ambrosia! And now even that is taken from you! And in any case, she is madly in love with Judas, of all people! Would at least he were worthy of it!"

He realized he was muttering to himself and looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but each seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts--not surprisingly, Matthew thought. Jesus was making clearer and clearer what the issue was, and no one was happy about it. His predictions of being killed were seeming more and more to be the truth.

Shortly before they reached the gate of the garden in the late afternoon, David, who evidently knew something about where they would be, met Matthew and took him aside.

"I remembered what you asked me to do, Master," he said in a stealthy, hushed voice. Matthew's eyebrows went up, not only at the tone, but at his calling him "Master." He had not done so since they had walked to his house on that first day after he had been brought back to life, and Matthew had admonished him. Evidently, this was part of his attempt to find meaning and purpose for his existence, and so Matthew let it pass. Matthew thought, ironically, that David had found a reason for living at almost the same moment Matthew had lost one--and in the same way, apparently, as David had lost his. How absurd that he had fallen in love!

But David was waiting for him to speak. "Yes?" he said.

"Did you notice that Judas is not among you?"

"I did not, actually. He frequently leaves us for some errand. He is our treasurer, you know."

"Oh, yes, I am aware that he is our treasurer," he answered, giving strong emphasis to the word. "And perhaps you do not know, that he has a great deal to treasure. And I am not surprised that he is frequently not among you."

"I know that people from time to time give money for our support. I myself gave quite a bit, you recall. And he does have errands, David."

"I know, I know. It is all so--believable. No doubt many people have given much money many times. But I would show you something, if you have time."

"Very well."

He said nothing more, and began leading Matthew back to Jerusalem, which they entered by the Lions' Gate. He walked down a number of the narrow streets, making several turns, into a part of the city Matthew was not familiar with. It was anything but a poor part of the city; the houses were fully the equal of the one he had lived in with Pontius and imitated in Galilee.

David stopped in front of a particularly lavish house. "He is inside," he said. "Behold, the light is on in the back." Matthew assumed that "he" was Judas. "If we go quietly, we may see him."

They crept furtively around to the back of the house, which joined quite a large garden in the middle of which was a huge terebinth tree. Matthew hated the sight of those trees; his father had hanged himself on one, and so had the father of the young boy who blamed him for it and wanted to kill him. David himself shuddered when he looked at it.

"See there," he whispered, and pointed to the lighted window. A shadow passed in front of it. It could have been the shadow of Judas, though with the flickering light of the lamp, it could have been almost anyone. Even the height of the person was a question.

"Are you certain?" Matthew whispered.

"I saw him go in, just before I went to see if I could find you. Let us go, lest we be seen." And he led the way back to the now-darkened street. "And I saw more, Master. I saw a woman give him six or seven gold coins, and they talked for a while, and then I followed him to see what he would do with them. I followed him--here," he finished dramatically.

"Perhaps he came to put them in a secret place to keep for us when we return to Galilee."

"And perhaps the high priest will have pork for dinner tonight," answered David. "You will never see that money. How do you think he keeps a house like this?"

"Well, now, David, we do not know he uses our money for his own purposes. Perhaps he was wealthy before he joined us."

"Then why did he not 'sell what he had and give it to the poor' when he came to follow the Master? You see, I do listen."

"I admit, it looks very bad," said Matthew.

"I know nothing of looks; it is. He is."

As they were walking back toward the garden, Matthew decided it would be wise to memorize the rather circuitous route they had taken. He was happy that he had such a good memory, because it was anything but straightforward. When they had left the city and were in the Kidron valley again, he said, "What you say is very troubling, David. But I do not think I can report it, because I have no real proof. As I said, it is possible that he merely kept it safe temporarily. I would need more if I were to denounce him. If even I can defend him, how much more could someone else who only heard what I have heard? I myself have seen nothing. --But you did well, David, and I commend you. But what I am more interested in, actually, is if he does something to put us in danger. This, if indeed it is as you say--I am not denying you, only speaking from the point of view of one who would hear it from me--is evil, but it is not a threat to us. Unless, of course, someone discovers it and uses it to force him to betray the Master somehow."

"That will not be easy. He is very clever about what he does. You saw how difficult it was to find him out. I was lucky."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you would keep up your watch."

"Gladly, Master. I would do anything I can to bring ruin on that--" and he spat. "I cannot think of him without wanting to vomit!"

"David! David!"

"I know, we must love our enemies. But he is not my enemy; I am his!"

"That is not what Jesus meant."

"It is what I mean! Go. I will return to see what he does."

Matthew thought as he turned into the garden gate that he had unleashed the whirlwind, and what was to come of this only God knew. Of course, that would mean that Jesus knew, did it not?

So Judas was embezzling the group's funds. Matthew knew how great the temptation must be; he suspected that that was why Jesus did not give Matthew the task. No one paid any attention to money in the group, least of all Jesus. How easy it must have been at the beginning to keep a little something aside for an amenity or two that Judas had had before, and which he now felt the lack of. Matthew felt the lack of a number of them himself, but whenever he was tempted to make use of the jewels, he thought back at how miserable he had been when he had money, and somehow he never went back to retrieve any of them. And those were his, were they not? Well, not technically, but . . . And then, when Judas became more and more convinced that Jesus, for all his miraculous powers, was insane, he probably felt he needed to feather his own nest against the time when everything would collapse.

Matthew froze at the thought that everything might collapse--would collapse, at least temporarily, if Jesus was to be taken at his word. But we must trust him, he told himself. How hard it was!

And yet, he seemed to know so well what he was doing! Even in reuniting Mary with Martha and Lazarus. "Matthew, you are too preoccupied," he had said. And what was it he said afterward? "Did I bring David back to life?" How was that relevant? He then thought of David and the mark on his neck. Had David tried to commit suicide, and gone down into the underworld into the place of torment? It seemed so. And Jesus had called him back to give him another chance--to find some meaning in living a good life.

--And here was David, nurturing his hatred! What had Matthew done? Had he ruined his chance? "Dear Master," he prayed quietly, so as not to disturb the others who were sleeping in the garden, "Let not what I have done bring harm to poor David--or to anyone. Even to Judas." It was hard for him to say this, but he was told to pray for his enemies, and Judas might well turn out to be an enemy.

--And Mary was gone. Had she told Martha and Lazarus as yet about herself? Would she ever tell them? But they would find out. Chuza's Joanna would certainly not be able to keep her mouth shut once she discovered Mary in Lazarus' household.

--Well, he would have to trust. Trust against all the appearances.

And, of course, he could not sleep.

Alone, thus. Alone among the Twelve and Jesus! He had reveled in being alone before, when he cared for no one but himself. And now? Even if she cared nothing for him except as a friend, she had been there. But never again.

The next day, Jesus went back to the Temple, in the vast Courtyard of the Gentiles, as if nothing had happened; but now his enemies were ready for him. After letting him speak for a while, collecting a huge crowd, a delegation of them came up, and asked, "Rabbi, we know that you are truthful, and that you pay no attention to what others think, because you care nothing for public opinion, but teach honestly the path to God. So--is it permitted to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Which is it?"

Matthew looked around at the crowd, which was gleeful at the dilemma. If he said, "Yes," he as much as admitted that Rome's occupation was legitimate; but if he said No, he would be able to be charged with treason. They were all silent, in anticipation of how Jesus would extricate himself.

Matthew could see Judas also, with a small, complacent smile on his face, either because he foresaw some way Jesus could solve the problem, or because he knew that the great confrontation was about to occur. Judas, who was using the group's funds for his own purposes, who would not suffer no matter what happened to his Master. Matthew turned away from him in contempt. He was the one who should be having pointed questions asked of him!

Suddenly, Matthew's heart leaped; he had caught sight of Mary coming up with Lazarus, Martha, and another, older man. The father?

Jesus answered, "Show me the coin you use to pay taxes."

A man close by, evidently the one who had asked the question, fumbled in the folds of his robe and brought out what must have been a denarius. "Whose image is this," asked Jesus, "and whose inscription is on it?"

"Caesar's" was the answer. Mary and her companions shouldered their way closer.

"Then give back to Caesar what is Caesar's, and return to God what is God's," he said. There was laughter and cries of "Brilliant!" "Excellent!"

Jesus sat down on the steps leading up to the courtyard of the Judeans, as his questioner withdrew in chagrin. He seemed to be preparing to preach again.

But at that moment, some others dragged a woman forward, her hair askew and robes rumpled, struggling to free herself from their grasp. They stood her in front of Jesus.

"Rabbi, this woman has been arrested in the very act of adultery; and Moses in the Law has commanded us to stone her sort. What do you have to say about it?"

The crowd fell silent once again; this trap was not one he could extricate himself from by clever wordplay. If he dismissed her, he was violating the Law; but how could a man who claimed to be able to forgive sins stone a sinner? Matthew looked over at Mary, still some distance away, and saw the consternation on her face. It could have been she, standing there.

Jesus seemed to be nonplused by the difficulty also, though he kept a calm face. He sat there on the step, tracing his finger in the dust beside him, then erasing the patterns he made. "Should she be stoned or not, according to your view of God's Law?" said the accuser. Then he added with a sneer, "Do you find the answer there in the dust?"

At this, Jesus straightened up and looked him directly in the eyes. "Have some sinless one among you," he said, "be the first to throw a stone." And again he bent over and resumed writing in the dust.

But now he seemed to be writing something legible, and as he glanced up, ostensibly to see if anyone had picked up a stone, he looked at his questioner and gave the slightest nod toward what he had written--at which the man's face flamed, and he turned away. Jesus erased what was there, wrote something else, and looked up again. By this time, several people had already left, and the one whose eyes he now met did not bother to glance down at the writing, but quietly pretended that he had not even seen Jesus, and moved away also.

It did not require many glances up from what he had been doing for the crowd to become remarkably sparse; and then Jesus looked over the few people remaining, and fixed his eyes directly on Matthew.

"I?" he breathed, shock running through him and fixing him to the spot.

What had he been doing? Despising Judas for cheating the group of their money, when he had cheated countless others of countless sums, and they the poor who were sometimes driven to suicide by what he had done! Oh, yes, he in his virtue, his sinlessness, could throw the first stone! And even after his sins had been forgiven, he cherished those phantom jewels whenever he felt in trouble, feeling warm that they were there in case he needed them. Oh, yes, he was virtuous enough of a certainty to throw the first stone!

He was not fit to live, let alone to throw stones! And he knew, did he not? Of course he knew! He knew everything, and he had even built the secret chamber-inside-a-chamber where the stones lay, beckoning to Matthew every day--every moment!

Oh, yes, he knew. He had said once ostensibly to someone else, but in Matthew's hearing, "If a bird wishes to fly, and the merest thread ties it to the ground, it cannot fly until it breaks the thread." He knew. He was aware of the effect of what he said on everyone. And what of having David spy on Judas? What right had he, in his self-righteousness, to try to indict another--and for essentially the same sin as his own!

Look at how everyone had slunk away! Matthew himself had turned and fled as unobtrusively as he could, and now was walking wildly around the Temple, not knowing where he was going, only thinking that he must go and make an end to himself before he did more damage! He wandered about for a long while, aimlessly, wondering what would be the most efficient way of ridding the world of this suppurating boil that was called Matthew.

Finally, after he knew not how long, he actually reached a decision. He would throw himself off the pinnacle of the Temple into the Gehenna where he deserved to die! He turned toward it, when he heard Jesus's voice, "You will die in your sins!" He stood, rooted to the spot. Was this directed at him? Did he know his thoughts? Of course he did!

"If you do not believe that I AM," Jesus continued,"you will die in your sins!" Matthew broke into uncontrollable shaking. He had nearly killed himself--in his sins, and added the sin of suicide to all the rest! He did not deserve to live, and Jesus was telling him that he had no right to die!

And then, as he began to calm down, it occurred to him that Jesus now had told the crowds that he was "I AM." He did not say, "If you do not believe what I am," (that is, the Prince) but "If you do not believe that I am." It was almost as if he had made a slip of the tongue, and people could still interpret it so, one supposed. But Jesus's tongue did not slip. He had made the next step.

Matthew wondered what the context was of his remarks. Clearly, he was talking to other people, and not simply to Matthew. It was just that the remarks meant something special to Matthew. He was to believe that Jesus was "I AM," and it would once again save him from his sins. He was to trust Jesus, not himself. His sins did not matter to Jesus, who had forgiving the adulteress, no doubt, when everyone was gone, and had forgiven Mary, and himself earlier--"seventy times seven times" and more. No, he must stay alive.

He went back, drawn by the voice. And out of the corner of his eye, did he not see Mary meeting her companions, as if she too had run off? He kept his distance. He did not want to face her at the moment, feeling as he did.

"If you keep what I say," Jesus was saying, "then you will be real students of mine. You will recognize what the truth is, and the truth will set you free." It was forgiveness again, was it not? It was his task to "keep what he said," not to despair because of the past. But could he?

"--of Abraham," said someone in the crowd. "We have never been slaves. How can you tell us we will be set free?"

"Amen amen I tell you," said Jesus, "anyone who commits a sin is a slave." How true that was! "--does not stay in the family forever. The Son stays in it forever. And if the Son frees you, you really will be free." It was forgiveness again!

He had brought him back to tell him this. True, he was speaking to all of them; but he spoke to each as well as to all. Perhaps others needed just those words also, for other reasons; but he knew that they were for him. And he had believed; he had believed that he had forgiven him, but he had begun relying on himself, and all it had led to was being overwhelmed by his own evil, and not only that, but into the sin of trying to destroy himself. And he was telling him that he would really be free, that all was not lost, if he renewed his faith in him, and lost his trust in himself.

"--Abraham did not do this sort of thing. No, you are doing what your real father wishes!"

"We are not bastards!" shouted the crowd. "We have the one God for our father!"

"If God were your father, you would love me," said Jesus, "because I came from God. And I did not come of myself; he sent me. Then why can you not understand what I say? Because you cannot hear my words!" Had he ever really heard them? To some extent. But he still doubted. He doubted even now.

"--when he tells lies, he does what is natural to himself, because he is a liar and the father of liars. And when I tell you what the truth is, you do not believe it!" He knew that Matthew had been poisoned by Judas.

The people were making outraged cries that he was the one who had a devil. Jesus looked out over them with anger and said, "Can any one of you name one sin that I have committed? Then if I tell you what the truth is, why do you not believe it? Anyone who belongs to God can hear what God says; and so you cannot hear, because you do not belong to God!" Matthew thought of Judas, who could not hear. He himself barely could hear. How did one learn to hear?

"--men I tell you," said Jesus, "Anyone who keeps what I say will never see death!" What was that?

"Now we know you are out of your mind!" shouted someone in the crowd. "Abraham died, and so did the prophets! And you say"--he repeated Jesus's words with bitter sarcasm--"that if anyone 'keeps what you say' he will not taste death forever! Are you greater than our ancestor Abraham? Who died! Or the prophets? Who died! Just who are you making yourself out to be?" The crowd roared assent.

Jesus looked out at them and let them calm down somewhat. Then he raised his hand for silence, and said calmly, "If I were to tell you how great I am, my greatness would be nothing. But there is my Father," he pointed to the sanctuary of the Temple, "who is showing how great I am. He is the one you call your God--but you do not recognize him. But I know him. If I said I did not know him, I would be a liar like you. I do know him, because I came from him, and he sent me!"

Still clearer, Matthew thought: "I came from God, who sent me!"

Then Jesus looked over them once again, and said, "And your ancestor Abraham was glad to see that my day was coming; and when he saw it come, it filled him with joy!"

"You are not even fifty years old," shouted the man who had spoken earlier, and you have 'seen Abraham!'" Everyone laughed, and Jesus, stung, broke into their cacophony with the angry retort, "Amen amen I tell you, before Abraham came into existence, I AM!"

One could hear the intake of breath as the whole crowd reacted in stunned horror. Jesus stood there in front of them for a silent moment, and then cries of "Blasphemy!" "He has blasphemed on the very steps of the Temple!" as people scurried about to find stones to throw at him.

--To throw at no one. He was no longer there.