Thirty-Two

Matthew found Jesus that night in the Gethsemani garden, where he had expected that he would be.

"I think I must go back to Judea for a short time, Master, and I had best do it immediately, I think," He did not add, "Or I will be unable to bring myself to go." Already the jewels were telling him to leave them alone, so that they could protect him if worse came to worst; he could not afford to let their voices grow louder.

"I understand." Matthew was sure he did. It was unsettling to speak to someone who knew what one was about to say before one even knew it himself. "I will be going into Judea away from Jerusalem for several days. You will find me when you return down by the Jordan where John once bathed the people. Do you remember?"

"Yes, Master. I am sure I can find it."

"God go with you. And do not despair. Difficult times may come, but all will be well eventually."

"I am relieved to hear it, Master," said Matthew, and went out of the garden into the night, hoping that what he was saying was true.

He decided that he could shorten the time if he started immediately; it was a fine night, with an almost full moon--one of those maddening phases of the moon when it looked as if it were trying to be a circle and could not quite accomplish it--lighting the way. He saw Judas and asked for a bit of money for the trip, so that he could buy food and lodging. Judas looked at him disapprovingly, and gave what he asked. It would suffice. Matthew chafed at having to ask for money, and especially at having to ask Judas; but that was the way things worked in the group. They were never refused; they owned nothing, but in another sense possessed everything.

He would travel as far as possible during the night, and perhaps into the next day, and sleep during the heat for a few hours, and then resume the journey. Since he was alone, he could make better time than the group, and the whole thing might take under a week.

He was a little nervous traversing Samaria on his own. Most of the Samaritans had a profound hatred of the Judeans (and of course included Galileans among them), and would slit one's throat with great pleasure, if they thought they could get away with it. But nothing happened, and after three days, he once again saw the shore of the "Sea" of Galilee, and circled it to his old house.

Gideon had taken down the fence, Matthew noticed, and had planted trees here and there: a cypress and some cedars, as well as a few olives, which were small now, but which, Matthew thought, would enhance the beauty of the house in five or six years when they had grown a bit. He admired Gideon's taste.

A bit nervously, he approached the door and knocked, and heard dogs--presumably the same dogs--bark from the back of the house, which he could not see.

Someone opened the door. Aha, Gideon had a slave himself now. "Yes?"

"May I speak with Gideon, please?"

"Who shall I say is calling?"

"Tell him Levi, who calls himself Matthew."

Gideon appeared, apparently recognizing the voice. "Master! I mean, Matthew! It is a pleasure to see you!"

"And I to see you, Gideon." Gideon nodded to the slave, who vanished inside, and waved Matthew into the room which Matthew had never used, since it was intended for receiving guests. Gideon apparently had made considerable use of it.

He was dressed in the finest style; he had learned well from his owners. After all, he had dressed Matthew, who had found that being well-dressed allowed him to intimidate the farmers into giving up more of their earnings; but probably he knew more from his previous owner. He had also acquired some refined gestures that he had not had not had much opportunity to use when Matthew owned him. All in all, he gave a good imitation of a man born to nobility. --As, for all Matthew knew, he might have been; he had never inquired about how he came to be enslaved in the first place.

"As I told you when we parted," said Gideon, "you will always be welcome here. Do you have some special reason for coming?" He smiled graciously, making Matthew think faintly of Pontius Pilate. Matthew wondered how "welcome" he really was; it was not pleasant to be reminded that someone owned one, and it was clear that underneath the pleasant greeting was, "State your business and be gone.."

Well, Matthew had no problem with that. It was not easy for him either to speak to his former slave as an equal. It felt a bit like trying to be on a level of equality with one's dogs. "Actually, I do have a reason for coming, Gideon. It occurred to me that there is something here that I had forgotten about, and I wished to see to it, if I may."

"You mean, when you left the house to me and all its contents?" The smile returned, along with the slightest emphasis, if one paid attention, to the last phrase.

"Yes. It seems that there is a secret chamber that I had overlooked."

"I see. I wondered myself if there might be something of that sort. There were so many of them, you see." A chill ran though Matthew.

"Do you mind if I look?"

"Not at all. After all, it was your house." Again the slightest emphasis on "was," and again the smile. This was going to be difficult. Perhaps he would not be able to be persuaded; and the jewels were his, technically.

And then Gideon put his left hand over his right, and Matthew saw on his finger a ring which held a large blue sapphire--and despair overcame him. The smile deepened.

Matthew murmured, "It was in here," and went to the room that held the secret chamber. He opened it, and found it empty, as expected. "We looked in that chamber," Gideon remarked, "do you not remember?"

"Yes, but what I had forgotten was this," said Matthew, and pried a bit about the bottom of the chamber's rear wall with his knife. The rear wall came out--and revealed another empty chamber.

He looked back at Gideon, who was still smiling graciously. "As I said, I wondered if there might be a chamber you had overlooked. I tried the walls, and saw how ingeniously everything was concealed. And then it occurred to me that a very ingenious person might think to make a secret place inside a secret place. Who would ever think of looking for another chamber inside an already secret chamber? And Lo! After a good deal of searching and experimenting, I found that very thing! After much searching. Much."

Matthew stared at him.

"They were very beautiful," said Gideon, moving his left hand over his right, not really as if displaying the ring, though clearly that was his intent. "And very valuable, also, I might add. Many of them brought quite a sum; but I did not sell them all. I had no need to."

Matthew continued staring at him. He smiled sweetly, "And you did say, 'the house and all its contents.'"

"Yes, I did," Matthew finally managed to say. "I am happy--" he choked slightly on the word "--to see that you found them." They were gone. He had nothing. He could give nothing to his mother, because there was nothing to give. He had nothing.

"Well, all things considered," said Gideon, "it is perhaps as well that I did. It perhaps saved you the trouble of giving them up. They were very beautiful. And very valuable, of course."

"Yes."

"Is there anything else you would like to see?" Once again the hand moved.

"No. No, I think, Gideon, that since you have them, I have no further errand here." I have no further reason for staying alive.

"Peace, then," said Gideon, and nodded to the slave to show Matthew out. "Peace," said Matthew, and stumbled after him, thinking, "They say, 'peace, peace,' and there is no peace."

As he left, he heard Gideon say to his back, "As you know, it is not amusing to be a slave." He looked back to meet the smile, for the last time in his life, he resolved.

Matthew afterwards could not remember anything of the journey back. He must have gone rather quickly, because he arrived in good time where the group was on the bank of the Jordan, but all he knew of the trip itself was that the word "Nothing" haunted him as the image of his hanging father had haunted him on the night he had escaped from being killed.

How could he manage to survive? He had nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

What he had dreaded all his life from the time he nearly died in the Valley of Hinnom had come to pass. He was poor now, absolutely, and there was no "in spirit" about it. He had thought he was poor before, but the jewels were always there in the background. Now there was no background; all was black. He had just spent his last two coins on his last night's lodging and food, and now there was nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

And then he caught sight of Jesus and his followers on the bank of the Jordan. He had them. He had Jesus. And he could continue living as he had lived. He had had nothing already for a good while, and had not suffered from it. Nothing was really different now.

It only felt as different as winter from summer.

Continue living as before? Before, he had "nothing," but the jewels were there, and he had security. Now he had nothing at all; to survive, he was totally dependent on the generosity of others to supply his needs, as they had when he went out announcing the coming of the Reign of God. And they had been generous. But even that was before now. Now Jesus had begun to reveal that he thought he was God--at least that is how everyone would take it--and they were turning against him. How could they not? And what would happen then?

He would have to trust in Jesus, that he really was God, and that "all will be well eventually." He had nothing but Jesus now, and so he had to trust, and trust only in him. He had wanted to live as his student, and now he had no life but as his student.

But it was so very hard. Because there was nothing else. He could barely breathe. "Do not despair," Jesus had said. How could he not despair?

"Ah, Matthew, I am rejoiced that you are back," came the voice of Jesus. "We will be going to Bethany tomorrow, and I thought you might like to accompany us."

Matthew made no reply; he could not. Well, it might make life bearable to see Mary again. Perhaps. He joined the group, finding that he now was up to making a remark or two.

Thomas said, seeing how despondent he was, "Your errand was not successful, then?"

"I know not," said Matthew. "I think it accomplished what the Master wished it to accomplish, and I suppose it is for my benefit."

"I see. But what is 'for your benefit' pulls you to pieces. Smashes you to atoms. I think I understand." He looked off into the distance, and said with a chop, "I think I understand very well."

"I love the Master, but--"

"I know. Loving him means 'repudiating yourself,' as he says. And that means disappearing--the self that you once were. Oh, I know. Having nothing of self left at all. Nothing."

"Nothing," repeated Matthew.

"And what shall we do, Matthew," his voice dropped to a whisper, "when he also abandons us?"

"You think he will?"

"That seems to be what he is saying. How will we survive?"

"I know not. I know not."

"Have you ever seen a crucifixion?"

"I saw one once at a distance. From what I saw, I had no desire to go closer."

"I saw one. Nor for long. How some people can consider it (chop) entertaining and watch for hours is beyond me. But he has told us more than once that if we wish to be his students we must take up our crosses and follow him. Well, I have shouldered my cross, Matthew, and I can see that you have shouldered yours. But (chop) God forbid that we will have to follow him to the end! I cannot bear it as it is!"

Matthew was silent, wondering what Thomas had gone through--and realizing that Thomas perhaps wondered the same about him. If it was anything like his crisis, it was horrible, and he felt for Thomas, which assuaged his own pain a bit. He told himself, as an exercise in futility. "It will not be any worse than it has been up to now. And it has not be bad at all." If only he could believe this!

They parted and went off to sleep. Or to pretend to sleep.

The next day, they went over to Bethany, where Martha was busy preparing the meal, and Lazarus was not present, having told Martha to inform Jesus that pressing business had kept him in Jerusalem that night. Matthew supposed that the "pressing business" was the fact that Jesus was no longer just a curiosity to be indulged, but after his extravagant statements, someone who was not "like oneself," and therefore to be avoided. Martha, of course, was too strong-willed and too attached to Jesus not to invite him.

But where was Mary? Matthew hardly expected her to be bustling about as Martha was, but she must be in the house somewhere. Had she too "shouldered her cross" and stumbled under it as Matthew and apparently Thomas had? And how many others, now that he thought of it?

He looked around at the other students and saw none of the merry faces he had beheld when they came back from their first excursion announcing the advent of the Reign of God, when they had commanded diseases and devils. If there was a cross looming in Jesus's future, there seemed to be spiritual crosses enough present among his students to make a forest.

Jesus sat outside the house to wait for the dinner, and Judith came out to speak to him briefly, and then said, "I will try," and ran inside.

Shortly afterward, Mary emerged, blinded by the sun, with a wan and haggard face that tore Matthew's heart. She looked in his direction, but did not seem to see him; she did not seem to see anything, but finally noticed Jesus and sat down.

Jesus began speaking to her, and at first she said not a word, and then made a few laconic replies, in a voice of complete and utter despair. What had happened? Had they been mistreating her? But Judith would never have allowed it.

Matthew longed to go closer and hear what was being said, but obviously, though they were here in front of everyone, with the students milling about and going in and out of the house, it was clear to everyone that it was a private conversation. Matthew kept his distance, watching, for a considerable time. Mary seemed to say more and more as time went on.

Suddenly, Martha came out and said, in a voice clearly meant to be overheard by everyone, "Master, does it not concern you that my sister has left me alone to take care of waiting upon you?"

"Martha, Martha," said Jesus. "So much is important to you, and you have so much on your mind. But there is only one thing that matters. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken away from her."

Martha looked indignantly at the two of them, and marched back into the house, muttering (also for all to hear) that unless someone took the worse part, those who chose the better part would do so on empty stomachs. Jesus laughed, and resumed his conversation.

Mary then began to be more and more earnest, and finally Matthew heard her say, "Stop! Stop!" and cover her ears.

"Mary, Mary," said Jesus audibly, "you worry too much."

"Master," she pleaded, "listen to me! I am no one, I am dirt, but listen to me! If you say such things in public, they will kill you!"

"I know. It does not matter."

"It matters to me!" she almost shouted.

Jesus's voice dropped, and Matthew could not make out what he said. It mattered desperately to Matthew also. How could it not? It was life and death to him. Jesus's death would be his death, just as Jesus's life was now all the life he had.

Mary said again in a loud voice, "I do not want to be chosen!"

They went on talking in a low voice, and Matthew walked away. She did not want to be chosen, nor did he. But what could he do? For some reason he could not fathom, he had been chosen, and for some other reason he now could not understand, he had answered the call. Matthew remembered that he had thought at the time that he had been rescued.

Rescued? For crucifixion? The chilling thought came to him that perhaps if Jesus was crucified, his intimate followers would literally be crucified with him!

After what seemed an hour, breathed. Pontius would not allow it.

Would he?