Thirty-Seven

The moon set, and left Thomas in a darkness that matched the darkness of his mind. He continued walking, but closer and closer now to the Praetorium, where Jesus must eventually be taken. And as he approached, the sky grew visible over the Mount of Olives, and then over the whole city, turning it a dirty gray before it deigned to invest it in its normal colors. A cypress pointed its accusing finger into the heavens.

"I was wondering where you were!" came Ezra's voice. It was still too dark to see him, but the day was racing onward. Thomas looked a blank look in his direction, and did not reply. Ezra fell in beside him. "He is dead, I thought you should know."

"What? Have they crucified him already?"

"No, not Jesus. Judas."

"Dead?"

"Hanged."

"Who did it? David? Not you!"

"No, not I. David would have done, had Matthew not forbidden him to kill Judas. But he was there--we were not together, he found his way to Judas's house on his own, and I was following Judas; he left the soldiers as soon as he was able. Fortunately, no one can see me at night, and so I had no trouble keeping fairly close."

"What happened?"

"Oh, as soon as he realized that Jesus was not going to disappear after that "I AM" in the garden, and would actually let himself be captured, he was sorry. Of course. He apparently had some idea that he would be forcing Jesus's hand, and found out that no one forces his hand. At any rate, he ran back to the Temple and said that he had sinned in betraying innocent blood, and when they told him that that was his problem, not theirs, he took the money and flung it into the Temple treasury, and ran off.

"It was difficult to keep up with him, but I suspected where he was going--to his mansion--and sure enough, he went there. I was going to go in, when David came up, and--coward that I was--I stepped back into the shadows to let David take care of him. He loathed him. So did I, for that matter.

"David was about to enter, when Judas came out with a rope. Then David also hid himself, and we separately watched Judas loop the rope over a branch of the terebinth tree in his garden, step on a box, put a noose around his neck, and kick the box away.

"He was not skilled as a hangman, and instead of its breaking his neck, it simply choked him. Slowly. I saw David watching, at first with relish, and then with horror. You remember that David had also hanged himself, and must have realized what Judas was going through. Personally, I thought it mild in comparison with crucifixion, which is what the Master is going to undergo--because of him!--but David seemed to hate himself for hating him.

"Oh, I know, we must not hate, and all that, but I hope the Master will forgive a little bit of hatred, and my joy at seeing him suffering as he strangled slowly to death. It was far, far too good for him!"

Thomas was inclined to agree, but said nothing.

"At any rate, he is dead, and the Master is about to die. They have taken him to the Praetorium, and the Governor is now interviewing him. I have no hope. Let us go see if anything is happening."

"Ezra, I cannot watch this! I cannot!"

"At least, we can see if he is condemned or not."

"We know he will be. He said himself that he would be."

"But he said it was possible. Even last night. Did you not hear him?"

"I heard nothing that made any sense. I was too distracted by worry."

"Come."

And, because he could not stay away, Thomas followed.

And there was the Governor, on the balcony, with two soldiers, one of whom looked as if he had just come from a battle, with something on his--it was Jesus! They had dressed him in a soldier's cloak and put a crown of some sort--it looked like thorns--on his head, and a stick for a scepter in his hand. His face was full of blood, and he was beaten and bruised all over.

"There is your man," said Pilate. "Look at him."

The crowd in the "Pavement" was stunned. Then someone shouted, "Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!" Someone else took up the chant, and the crowd, seeing him totally disgraced, turned against him, and the cry became a roar.

The Governor held up his hand for silence, and said, "You want me to crucify your King?" and one of the priests shouted back, "We have no King but Caesar!"

Pilate heard this, and a smile slowly spread over his face. He then had a basin brought, and ostentatiously washed his hands in front of them, saying, "I am innocent of this man's blood. It is your responsibility." And the crowd roared louder than ever.

"I knew it!" said Thomas. "I knew it! Let us go!"

"We cannot go," said Ezra. "You know that. You would come back if you tried."

"I cannot bear it!"

"No one can."

And after a short time, Jesus and two others emerged, dragging the cross-beams of their crosses on their shoulders, escorted by three soldiers, with Matthew's former guard as their commander. He looked extremely distressed. It was very difficult to see, because the crowd kept pressing in, and the streets were so very narrow. Jesus, almost dead already from the beating, disappeared from view. He had fallen down under the weight of the wood. That strong man, for whom wood was a friend and servant for so many years, was felled by it! And would be hanged on it, in the worst way imaginable!

Ezra tried to get them closer through the crowd, but Thomas hung back. He could not watch this! Jesus stopped for a moment by some women, and said something to them, and was prodded onward. He fell again, and now the centurion looked around, clapped his hand on a powerfully formed young man nearby, who, complaining and objecting, took the cross-beam from Jesus and walked behind him. Thomas almost wished it could have been himself; he would have been grateful to have been of some help, no matter what it cost.

But even without the cross, Jesus fell, and the soldiers seemed to wonder whether they would be able to get him to the Skull Hill, or whether he would die first. There was considerable climbing to do, and Jesus could not seem to get his footing.

But the journey was not long; it was practically inside the city, well within sight of anyone who cared to look, when they stopped and took off Jesus's clothes, and the centurion, having assigned the crucifixion of the other criminals to two other soldiers, himself nailed Jesus to the cross. At one point, Jesus said something, and the centurion stopped, the mallet raised to strike, winced, and then brought it down, as silent tears fell from his eyes.

And then they raised the cross, and Thomas turned his head away. He could not look. He went to the very edge of the crowd, and turned his back on Jesus and wept uncontrollably. He glanced back once, to see Jesus struggling, with the two other criminals on either side screaming in agony, and quickly turned away again. To think that people were enjoying this!

It grew dark.

Thomas looked up at the sky, which was quickly becoming darker. He shook with terror. Perhaps the world was going to come to an end if its Creator was dying! It became darker and darker, and the crowd became quieter and quieter as they all looked up at the sky in dread.

He saw the centurion go over to Matthew and talk with him, and then go back. He wondered what that was about.

When it was dark as midnight, Jesus suddenly screamed, and his cry was echoed by a roar from the earth, which quaked under them. Everyone else screamed and fell to the ground.

And then the sky lighted up again, and the earthquake was over. And Jesus's body hung there lifeless. Thomas could not bear it; he took one look and wandered off aimlessly.

Eventually, he found his way back to the room where they had eaten the Passover the night before, and went inside. There was nowhere else to go. Ezra followed after a while, and sat on the floor beside him against the wall, staring at the window; and then, one by one, came the others, no one saying anything, merely collecting, trying to find some comfort in the fact that they were here, suffering together. Jesus's mother also came, almost fainting, supported by John, and accompanied by Mary of Magdala. The mother went off in a corner by herself, to mourn privately, and Mary sat near Matthew.

Thomas heard snippets of remarks, made laconically by one or another student. Because of the Sabbath, which began at sundown, some of them had apparently taken Jesus's body down hastily and given him a perfunctory burial in a tomb nearby belonging to Joseph of Arimathea, a nobleman they had seen with Jesus secretly once or twice.

Then there arose a long discussion on whether or not it was legal to enter the tomb the day after the Sabbath and clean and dress Jesus for a proper burial. Some said that it should not be done, but others, led by Chuza's Joanna, of all people, insisted that, unless there was some explicit provision in the Torah against it, then it most certainly would be done. When Nicodemus began citing rabbis who interpreted the Law, she cut him off with, "Give me none of your 'interpretations!' If you cannot find it in the very words of Moses, then I will hear none of it! Has not the Master himself said that these 'interpretations' have made the Law a prison instead of the joy it was supposed to be? Tell me not what your 'interpreters' think!"

But all were exhausted, and found places to lie down and sleep the sleep of despair, waking on the Sabbath morning only to face another day of emptiness.

And the cold, raw day passed only because days must; but each hour prolonged itself into an eternity in its own right. After the initial discussions about Jesus's body, the little group in the upper room had lapsed into moody silence, some rising periodically to look out the window, fearful that the authorities would come to put an end to the students as well as the teacher.

Then John was telling what he knew of the trial--he had apparently been able, because of his connections, to get inside the high priest's palace--and when he reached the point at which Jesus had been accused of blasphemy, Philip asked, "Why did they not stone him then and there?"

Thomas, who had been pondering the situation, said, "I can answer that. Because there would have been a riot. They had to have him executed by Rome for several reasons: first, not to make it appear that they were the ones who did it, or we brave, dauntless, intrepid followers of his would--"

"You ran off as fast as anyone else!" cried Philip.

"I am all too painfully aware of that," he replied. "They had nothing whatever to fear from us, as was so blatantly demonstrated; but they did not know that. Second, they had to discredit him; and stoning would make him look like one of the other prophets, and would certainly not endear them to the people who had heard him denounce them as the descendants of those who had stoned his predecessors. But crucifixion--well, you saw it, and you heard what people were saying. How could anyone respect a person who had been through that? How could anything he said carry any authority after everyone saw him hanging there, stark naked! Pleading for a drop of water! I cannot bear it!"

He paused and took a breath. "You see? It was brilliantly done. The whole council would be in favor of it, because he had shown to their faces that he was a blasphemer--"

"He was not a blasphemer! It was true! He is the Son of God! Still!" cried Philip.

"You believe that, and, in spite of what you think, so do I--I think--I know not. I know nothing now. Pleading for a drink! . . . But you see my point. If even we doubt it because we saw him there, how would anyone else ever be convinced?"

"He will come back! He said he would! How can you doubt?"

"Philip, Philip, do not--it is time to grow up, Philip. You will finish by giving these poor women hysterical illusions. His spirit will return, and when we recover from this ghastly time--if it is ever possible--we, at least, will be able to live by his precepts, and that will return him to life in us. That was what he meant. Did he not pray that we were to be one thing in him, just as he was one thing in the Father? And that he would be in us just as the Father was in him? That is the return to life that he promised. We need conjure up no mad visions of him walking about to compound the horror of what we have been through."

"It is not a mad vision! He will return. You are the ones who are mad! How can you say such things?"

"Philip, he himself said that he was leaving to send us his Spirit from the Father."

"And he said he would come back! He said it!"

"--I cannot bear more of this. I am leaving. --Fear not, Nicodemus, I will not go father than a Sabbath's walk. But I will go mad if I stay here another instant!"

Philip looked at him with a mixture of anger and disdain, but said nothing further. He left.

And where could he go? He wandered around by himself, but he knew where he would go. He could not help it, the taste of the wine--of Jesus's blood--was still in his mouth, and he was crying for more, so that he could forget. He was so desperate to forget! To sleep! To die! Oh, to die and have it all over! How could life go on after this?

And so he found a wine-shop and went in and bought a wineskin and began to drink. His own statement to Philip, "We will live by his precepts" came back to him like a slap in the face, and he said to the cup of wine, "I am sorry, Master. I have failed you! I have done nothing right!" But in a sense, he did not care. He cared for nothing. He drank to lose consciousness--but consciousness did not desert him, it seemed, forever.

And as happened in the cave, he lost all sense of time. It seemed that light and then darkness had happened several times, but all he could really see were the walls and a window on the other side of the room. When he had drunk a whole wineskin, he asked for another, and when the merchant remonstrated, he feebly tried to fight him. But he got his wine, and almost did forget why he was drinking it.

And then Samuel came to him again. But not the smiling Samuel that had haunted him in the cave. This one was walking, as if on the ground, and he spoke. "Thomas!" he said.

"What would you?" he answered. His hair stood on end.

"I was sent to you, Thomas, by Jesus, just as I was sent to our father--and to Nathanael and John."

"You were sent?"

"By Jesus. He asked me to explain to you why I am happy that I died as I did. I had told John before I died that I loved you, and I saw how you were not only trapped in your desire for wine, but trapped in our life as fishermen."

"What do you mean, 'trapped'?"

"Thomas, it was as clear to me as that you were being dragged into degradation by wine--or whatever you had in that pouch of yours. You longed for something beyond our life; you learned to read, and I could see you as the world opened itself up to you from the books Nathanael gave you."

"I thought you despised me for it!"

He smiled. "You were not very good at reading people at that time, Thomas, though I have been watching you, and you have improved since. I admired you, but you were my other self, you remember, and I was a little jealous, I admit; but I loved you and wanted you to fulfill that self that was beyond me.

"I was perfectly content to be a fisherman all my life--it is a good life, after all, and useful--but I knew you could not be happy doing what we were doing. I told John about it, and said I would do anything to help you; that I would give my life if it could lead to your finding your true self."

"You were willing to die for me? For me? Look at me!"

He smiled again. "You looked far worse then, and this will not last. I understand, and so does Jesus. Of course, I had no plans to die, but yes, I was not merely willing, I was eager to do so, if it was the only way."

"I--I know not what to say."

"You need not say anything. It is a simple fact. And as it turned out, it was the only way. I know that now. I have come briefly to tell you that this is so. And so I am not only glad that it happened; I am overjoyed! But you need have no fear; I have not come back permanently; I will leave after I have fulfilled my mission, and return to the joy I have had from the moment I died. You cannot even conceive of it, Thomas! I would not come back--except for a moment like this--for anything in the world!"

Thomas's face flamed; Samuel evidently knew of his fear of having him come back to life and be his twin two years younger than himself. "You say that you are happy that you were killed?"

"I could not be happier. It was but a momentary pain, a bump on the head, and then I understood everything. I saw you pull my body from under the boat and then drink yourself into unconsciousness, and I rejoiced, because I knew all then--I knew your whole life and my whole life, and what I had done for you!"

Thomas could not take this in. "What you had done for me?"

"Thomas, if I had not died, you would have been but an embittered fisherman for the rest of your life, making yourself miserable and everyone around you--as you were doing. And it would not be a long life; the drink was destroying you. And if I had not died, Nathanael would still be sitting under the fig tree, watching the world go by, and John would be studying to be a rabbi, and would never have gone to the other John to be bathed from his sins, and would not have met Jesus at the crucial moment. And what a calamity that would have been for the world!"

"You seem to be saying that it was all arranged."

"In a sense. The Master loves us, and he manages to see that what we do turns out to be just what we should have done so that we can rejoice forever. Now that I see everything clearly, I would not change a single moment of my life, especially the last one."

"You say you saw Father? Did you tell him this?"

"I told him what I just told you. He was not drunk, but he doubts nonetheless that I am real. He told me that somehow you sent me, and I had to tell him No, that I was also sent to you, to explain the same thing. I do not think he is convinced as yet, but your mother will help. It will take time. As I know it perhaps will with you, since you have more reason to believe it is not really I. But you both will understand; fear not. He does nothing in vain."

Thomas broke down in drunken tears. "Oh yes? Look at me! You call this what you are proud that you have accomplished! I am a complete, utter failure! And my Master is dead!"

"Fear not, Thomas; he is no longer dead. Of course, in a sense, he failed also, did he not? Remember, he did not ask for success, and his own failure made it far, far better for the world, because by his failure you will not only be with him forever, you will be Jesus forever, while remaining yourself. That is the way he does things. It is incredible."

"Incredible indeed. It makes no sense."

"Oh yes, Thomas. It is the only thing that does make sense of this world of sorrow. You remember that at the last meal, he said that every tear will be wiped away. It will be. Even those you are now shedding."

"No! I do not believe it! You are nothing but my own desires, made visible by this curse of drink, trying to deceive me! Trying to tell me pretty stories that I want to hear!"

"I know. I understand. But fear not, Thomas. Trust. But I must go. Farewell. And you will fare well. Fear not." And he vanished.

"Samuel, I--" But he was gone. Or the hallucination was over.

For now.

He drank.

He lost consciousness.

He felt hands upon his head. Someone was saying something over him.

"Thomas?"

Suddenly, he was completely sober. "What, another one?"

"Thank God! I finally found you!" It was Nathanael.

"Found me? You see what you found, Nathanael, though not in a cave this time. The real Thomas!"

"Nonsense. Thomas, he has come back to life! Come see!"

"Come back to life? You mean Jesus?"

"He has, Thomas. Philip was right."

"You are all deluded! You are all having hallucination, as I am! I saw Samuel just now, and he told me a pretty story."

"I know, Thomas. He came to me also."

"Samuel did?"

"He did. But you must thank Ezra also that I am here. I also failed. Before Samuel came, Ezra told me that I must come to find you, and bring you back once again. And I could not. I stayed. But Ezra insisted. 'Do you want to be responsible for both of them?' he said, so I had to come; but--"

"What did he mean? 'Responsible for both of them?'"

I was as afraid as I used to be before I met the Master, and I was sure I could not succeed, but he kept insisting and I--I finally began looking for you. So we all failed, Thomas, but we are forgiven. All of us. And while I was looking, I met Samuel, and he explained about himself."

"What did Ezra mean?"

He hesitated, and took a deep breath. "I never told you this, Thomas; I never had the courage. I never had any courage. Thomas, I--Thomas, I was sitting under the fig tree by the bank of the lake when you and Samuel fought for that bladder of yours, and I saw you jump overboard, and the gunwale hit Samuel and knock him under the boat, and I--but I--and Ezra pleaded with me, screamed at me to jump in and save him, because Ezra could not swim. And I could have done it, I could have saved him, but I was afraid; I did not think I could, and while I stood there, vacillating, you started coming back, and I was afraid that you would see me there hesitating while poor Samuel died, and I fled up the hill to my house!

"But after a long time, days and days--weeks--I went back and sat under the fig tree again and begged God, if he could see me, to forgive my sin and make me a person who could act. Because I wanted to act, but I was always afraid, and then while I was saying this to the Lord, Philip came and told me about Jesus, and I went and he forgave me, and then I came to you--and found I could actually do something, and something good and useful, for a change."

Thomas had been looking at him with loathing, which gradually changed. He said, "And you saved my life, Nathanael."

"But I failed to save your brother's. And how that haunted me all this time! Forgiveness is all very fine, but to know that one has ruined another person's life is something else. But now Samuel has told me himself that I would have done him the greatest disservice of his whole life if I had saved him. He told me he had to die, so that you could live! It does not make my guilt any less, but I know now that even with my guilt, especially since Jesus forgave it, what I did happened to be the best thing that could have been done. Because you will be famous, Thomas!"

He laughed. "Oh yes? Look at me."

"I see a great man, who has had a great shock, and who will recover greatly. Come back with me and see.

"Go! I do not want to come back. I do not want to be sober. Leave me and let me drink myself to death. That I will succeed in this time."

"No, Thomas. You must come. Jesus is alive. One can even see the holes in his hands and feet and side. But he lives!"

"Well, what I see are two deluded fools, who see visions and have hallucinations because they have had a great shock and still want to believe, because they must believe to survive, and so they make up things and see things so that they can believe!"

"It is no hallucination; it is true. I saw Jesus. And I saw Samuel. The real people."

"Samuel is dead!"

"Yes, but he told me he was permitted to come for this one day to tell us what the real truth is."

"Real truth! I do not believe it! I do not believe it precisely because I must believe it in order to survive! Let me die! Even if you did take me back there to Jesus and I too saw him, I still would not believe it! I know that my mind creates hallucinations; I had one this very day! I will not believe unless I feel his flesh--unless I put my fingers into the holes in his hands, and thrust my hand into his side!"

But it came to pass that, after much more persuasion on Nathanael's part, Thomas went back with him, and two days later Jesus came in, though the doors were locked, and said, "Peace to you," as if he were simply greeting them as Hebrews always did. Thomas stood aghast.

Jesus looked at him and said, "Take your finger and probe my hands, and put your hand into my side, and" with a twinkle in his voice, "then you will be a believer instead of a skeptic."

And it was real flesh, and the hole in his once dead and living hand, now healed, went right through from the heel to the back of the wrist. Thomas cringed from putting his finger in, but Jesus motioned for him to go ahead, and the hand was there, as real as life, and the hole was there, the badge of honor that Jesus wore.

He fell to his knees. "My Master," he said, "and my God!"

"You believe because you saw me, Thomas. Admire those who believe without seeing."