Five

For a month or more, Nathanael stayed in the cottage, brooding, Ezra serving him with undisguised loathing. He had not even the ambition--the courage?--to take the rod he had sometimes beaten him with and thrash him into pretending at least to be civil. He deserved contempt. His "character flaw" had seemed to him to be innocuous--how could one be evil for not doing something?--and he now knew what it was capable of.

He, who knew so well what drink could do, had taken the effortless course and made Thomas's road into drunkenness easy and smooth; and when the crisis came, his inability to act, his waiting and considering possibilities, his--his fear of failure, was it not?--had paralyzed him and led to Samuel's death.

And possibly Thomas's. He had never come to beg for food or wine, which probably meant that he was using the boat money to drink himself to death. Perhaps he was dead already. Nathanael could not bear it. He dreaded having Philip come back with the news.

Eventually, his inaction led to being unable to stand the cottage, and he took the codex of the psalms and went down to the fig-tree, which had been his haven until it became his horror. It was almost a case of the criminal returning to the scene of the crime. Ezra, of course, followed, saying not a word, and took up his usual station just at the corner of Nathanael's vision. They had not spoken for two weeks or more.

The clouds drifted by as indifferently as they had drifted before, the sky was an oblivious blue, leading into a blank depth, and the "sea" was--empty. Not a boat on it. The fish had apparently deserted this part of the lake, at least for the day. Nathanael did not know whether to be relieved or depressed. He wondered what Thomas's father had done, now that he had no sons. Twins, and then suddenly no sons. How tragic! And it was Nathanael's fault as much as anyone's. Poor Thomas had no idea what he was getting into, but Nathanael had, and had done nothing. And now Samuel was nothing.

Or perhaps not. Some of the psalms hinted that there was something after death, at least for good people. The Pharisees, Nathanael knew, believed that life continued afterwards; but the Sadducees laughed at them. More absurdity. And if there was a life after death, how did that solve anything? How could Samuel fish now, which was all he cared about? Even if he still existed, it would be worse than being nothing, because he would always want what he could not have. And poor Thomas, if he were dead, with all his vague ambitions shattered, forever and ever. Better to die and disappear.

It would be better for him to die. Why had he not ended his life years ago? Why did he simply put up with absurdity piled on top of absurdity? But he knew why. He had not the courage. It was fear that he might die trying to save Samuel that kept him on the shore. "Why was I so unwilling to throw this filthy rag of life away?" he said aloud.

"Master?" said Ezra.

"Nothing, Ezra. I was thinking out loud. Thinking what I know you have been thinking."

Ezra was silent.

He picked up the book and opened it at random, hoping to find something to solace himself.

Lord, you have scrutinized me, and you know me;

you know when I sit and when I stand.

You know my thoughts even if you are far away.

You understand where I walk, and when I lie down;

you know everything there is to know about me.

Before a word of mine even reaches my tongue--

there! You know, Lord, all about it.

You have me hemmed in, behind and in front of me,

and your hand is always upon me.

That knowledge is too much for me;

it is so deep I cannot fathom it.

He let the book fall. So you know all about me, he thought. If so, you know that in my thoughts I have tried to be a true Israelite, with nothing devious about me. But I have dug myself into a pit I cannot climb out of. Yes, it is my fault. "My sin is always before my eyes," said David. So is mine; I cannot rid myself of it. And you see me here, sitting hopeless and helpless. What can I do? I can do nothing. Nothing! Why can it not make sense? How? You made this world; how can it be so horrible? How can it not make sense? Can this be your love for us?

Oh, I know it is my fault, but I fell into it as surely as Thomas did. I had no malice--not even toward my poor mother. Can you not do something to rescue me--to rescue us? I am more of a slave than Ezra here, and even Ezra's life is absurd. Standing there, hating me, and having to serve me. We should all kill ourselves.

He lapsed into a sort of trance, devoid of thought, something that had been common with him this past month. The clouds drifted by, unheeding, in the peaceful sky. Several gulls flew underneath them, and one suddenly plunged into the lake, evidently to catch a fish. At least there was one fisher present.

His eyes fell on the book, and he picked it up again. It opened at another psalm:

I call the Lord at the top of my voice,

and shout my plea to him,

pouring out my problems in his ears

and telling him my troubles.

When once my spirit was drowning there within me,

you knew what path to bring me down.

You knew, he thought. And you brought me here. To the place of my degradation. Why? How can this be the right path to my rescue? But something brought me here; I could not stay away. Bah! It is all absurd!

"So you are here after all!" came Philip's voice. "I went up to the house and it was empty, and thought, 'Perhaps he has gone down to the fig-tree.' And here you are!" He ran up, full of excitement.

"What, do you think you have some good news for me, Philip? You said that you would only come if you had good news."

And you said there would never be good news again. But there is! We found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and the Prophets foretold! Jesus, the son of Joseph, from Nazareth!"

Nathanael looked at him. Poor, naive Philip! Nazareth! "Can anything good come from Nazareth?"

"Come and see!" said Philip.

"Go, Master," said Ezra. Why not?"

"Why?"

"Look at him. He is all excited. Perhaps there is something to it."

"Oh, please, Ezra! Nazareth!"

"Well if the Prince is to come, he must come from somewhere. And he is supposed to come some day. You know that. Why not today?"

"After all these centuries?"

"All the more reason. The time must come eventually."

"You will see!" broke in Philip. "He is like no one you have ever met!"

"Oh, very well," and he and Ezra trudged after Philip, who was all but dancing before them.

When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said, "Now there is a real Israelite; there is nothing devious about him."

Nathanael thought with a shock that that was exactly what he had been thinking; even the identical words. "Where do you know me from?" he asked.

"Before Philip called you," replied Jesus, "I saw you--under the fig tree."

The shock coursed through him again. And I was reading about how God saw me, and about how he had somehow brought me there, and would show me the path! "Rabbi," he exclaimed, "you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!"

Jesus laughed. "You believe just because I told you I saw you under the fig tree? You will see more marvelous things than that. Amen amen I tell you, you will see the sky open up and God's angels going up and coming down upon the Son of Man!

"--But if you others would excuse the two of us for some moments, I would speak to Nathanael privately. Then, if he wishes, I will introduce him to you."

He drew apart, and Ezra began to follow them. "In a moment, Ezra," he said. Nathanael wondered how he knew his name. He did not seem at all surprised at Nathanael's having a black slave. Was it all a lucky guess?

"I wanted to tell you," said Jesus, "that I also saw you under the fig tree a month and a half ago, when a tragic accident occurred."

"You knew that also?" Nathanael's eyes were wide. No lucky guess. "And you know what I did?"

"Or did not do. I am telling you this in this way, because there is not much time left, and I need you to be convinced of certain things. It was only today that I could manage to prod you to go down to the fig-tree where Philip could find you."

"To prod me?"

"Well, let us say, to arrange it." And Thomas remembered how he suddenly could not stand the cottage for another moment, and had almost fled--with the book of psalms--to the fig tree as a kind of haven. Who was this person?

"And I had Philip find you because things have come to a crisis for Thomas, and I think you should help him."

"Master, how could I help him? I am a total failure. I will only make things worse. If you know what happened when Samuel drowned, you know that."

"Ah, but you will not fail this time because my spirit will be with you. You will see. Fear not."

"Master, I am nothing but fear! I can do nothing! It was from fear that I did nothing and let Samuel die."

"True. You are apparently lazy, but from fear. But even that--well, one day you will find that even the absurdity of Samuel actually makes sense. It does. I know how, and you yourself will learn it on a day far worse than any you have spent up to now--far worse." He said this in a tone of foreboding, as if it were his own pain that he was somehow anticipating. "It is possible for it not to be, but--But even that will make sense. You will see. I am here to tell you at the moment that God loves you--far more than you could imagine, and to rescue you from your sin."

"How can you do that? Samuel is dead, and Thomas is, if not dead--as you seem to be saying--probably dying."

"He is almost certain to die, unless he is helped. And without delay."

"But how can he be helped?"

"I can remove his curse from him; but he must be willing to come to me. You will be able to bring him."

"I? It is impossible!"

"I tell you, Nathanael, that you are perfectly right. It is impossible, especially for you. With men it is impossible. With God everything is possible. You will see. It will be difficult, but you will do it."

"I cannot believe it."

"Yes, you can. Listen to me. It is not a question of whether you can, but a question of whether you choose to believe it. You can refuse. But remember. I chose the psalms you read just before Philip called you. You can do it. I will be with you--not physically, but I will be there. And let me add that he is what you thought he could be; he will be great and do great things, and be known as far away as India, and one day over the whole world. People will pray for his intercession until the end of time. The world is about to enter a new phase--a phase in which everything will ultimately make sense--no matter what happens." And again he seemed to be looking into a dreadful future.

"It is too much! I cannot understand it."

"'That knowledge is too much for me; it is so deep I cannot fathom it.' I know. And the question here is not whether you understand it, but whether you are willing to accept it."

"If only it were true!"

"Your soul is still 'drowning within you.' But I have your hand now, and I am pulling you out of the water. 'When once my spirit was drowning there within me, you knew what path to bring me down.' Indeed I know, and I am showing you the path. Remember what you thought as you read that psalm? You thought, 'You knew. You brought me here. To the place of my degradation. Why? How can this be the right path to my rescue? But something brought me here; I could not stay away. Bah! It is all absurd!' No, it is not absurd. I brought you there so that Philip could find you at precisely that moment.

Nathanael stared at him in awe. He did know. And he seemed to have it all arranged. Perhaps it all would make sense, and I would be able to help Thomas after all. And he said that one day I would learn that even Samuel's senseless death made sense. Perhaps it does make sense! Oh, that it would make sense! Even if horrible, that it would make sense!

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

But if not, how could he have known what I was reading, and how could he have had Philip find me at just that moment, when I was pleading to find a path to travel? Perhaps I will be able to do some good!

"Nathanael," said Jesus, "there is another thing I must tell you: your sins are forgiven."

Nathanael stared at him. And he even forgives sins! And he apparently knows what they are! He must be the Prince who was prophesied! He has to be! It is a miracle!

"It is a miracle, in a sense," said Jesus calmly, though Nathanael had not voiced his thought. "And you must help in it. You will see what will happen to Thomas. But you must brace yourself for what you will see. What you saw of your mother is nothing to what you will see. Be warned. But fear not. You will do well."

Nathanael looked at him, wide-eyed. He knew of his mother also. "If you say so, Master."

"And fear nothing for your mother, though that will need much time. But even there all will be--if not well, better. It will make sense."

"Whatever you say. I am dumb."

"One final thing before you go: If you become a follower of mine, you will not need Ezra as a slave; and he needs to be free."

"Oh, I will free him now! This instant!" The thought occurred to Nathanael that in freeing Ezra, at least as he now was, he was freeing himself from Ezra, not having to bear that look of condemnation.

"Ezra!" Jesus called, and beckoned to him. "Thomas has something to say to you."

"You are a free man from this moment, Ezra," said Nathanael.

Ezra stared at him in disbelief. "Do you mean what you just said?"

"I mean every syllable."

"Oh, thank you, Master! And thank you!" to Jesus, who simply smiled. "I cannot believe it!"

"Not Master any longer. Simply Nathanael."

"I cannot believe it! Free!"

"But if you would, Ezra," said Nathanael, "I would ask the favor of you to accompany me for a while. I am to go to Thomas and try to bring him here--"

"Well, not here." said Jesus. "I must go to the house of Simon Barjona. I will meet you there. I will introduce you to the others now, and they will tell you where to go."

"Of course, I will join you," said Ezra. "Free! I cannot believe it! Thank you so much--"he evidently wanted to add "Master" and could not, and then replace it with "Nathanael," and found he could not do that either.

Jesus brought Nathanael, almost reeling with bewilderment, and Ezra, whose face was almost white because he was smiling so broadly that all one could see was his teeth, to the little group that had been around him. Nathanael was surprised that he had heard of so many of them: Simon Barjona and his huge younger brother Andrew--even bigger than Ezra--both fishermen, whom Philip and Thomas had mentioned as rivals of Thomas, as well as James and John, sons of Zebedee, and a strikingly handsome man who Nathanael thought was called Judas, and a few others.

They talked for a considerable while as people just becoming acquainted do, about inconsequential matters, Nathanael learning who was who, everyone a bit embarrassed at suddenly being thrown together, as well as being part of something far beyond what they could have imagined.

Finally Jesus said, "I think, however, that Nathanael has a task before him that is rather pressing."

Nathanael stood there, nonplused. "Does anyone know where Thomas is? The one who--who had the accident?"

"I know, Mas--" said Ezra, and stopped, embarrassed. Of course he would know, thought Nathanael.

"Then you can bring me to him."

"Well, I know more or less where he is. But we will find him."

"Lead on, then," and they left the group.