The Last Temptation of Christ
“My beloved, I have been saying hello and goodbye to you every single instant since the day I was born.” She spoke so softly that only Jesus and John, who were close to her, could hear.
After a moment’s silence, she continued. “I must look at you, because woman issued from the body of man and still cannot detach her body from his. But you must look at heaven, because you are a man, and man was created by God. Allow me to look at you, therefore, my child.”
She pronounced these momentous words, “My child,” in such a low voice that not even Jesus heard her. But her own breast filled out and stirred as though she were giving suck to her son.
A murmur arose in the crowd. New invalids suddenly arrived and occupied the entire yard.
“Rabbi,” said Peter, “the people are grumbling and impatient.”
“What do they want?”
“A kind word; a miracle. Look at them.”
Jesus turned. In the turbulent air of the squall which was coming he perceived a multitude of half-opened mouths full of longing, and of eyes which were gazing at him with anguish. An old man came forward through the crowd. His eyelashes had fallen out: his eyes were like two wounds. Around his skeleton-like neck hung ten amulets, each containing one of the Ten Commandments. He leaned on his forked staff and stood himself in the doorway.
“Rabbi,” he said, his voice all grievance and pain, “I am one hundred years old. Hanging around my neck, constantly before me, are God’s Ten Commandments. I have not disobeyed a single one of them. Every year I go to Jerusalem and offer a sacrificial ram to holy Sabaoth. I light candles and burn sweet-incense. At night, instead of sleeping, I sing psalms. I look sometimes at the stars, sometimes at the mountains—and wait, wait for the Lord to descend so that I may see him. That is the only recompense I desire. I’ve waited now for years and years, but in vain. I have one foot in the grave, yet I still have not seen him. Why, why? Mine is a great grievance, Rabbi. When shall I see the Lord; when shall I find peace?”
As he spoke he grew continually angrier. Soon he was banging his forked staff down on the ground and shouting.
Jesus smiled. “Old man,” he replied, “once upon a time there was a marble throne at the eastern gate of an important city. On this throne sat a thousand kings blind in the right eye, a thousand kings blind in the left eye and a thousand kings who had sight in both eyes. All of them called God to appear so that they might see him, but all went to their graves with their wishes unfulfilled. When the kings had died, a pauper, barefooted and hungry, came and sat on the throne. ‘God,’ he whispered, ‘the eyes of man cannot bear to look directly at the sun, for they are blinded. How then, Omnipotent, can they look directly at you? Have pity, Lord; temper your strength, turn down your splendor so that I, who am poor and afflicted, may see you!’ Then—listen, old man!—God became a piece of bread, a cup of cool water, a warm tunic, a hut, and in front of the but, a woman giving suck to an infant. The pauper stretched forth his arms and smiled happily. ‘Thank you, Lord,’ he whispered. ‘You humbled yourself for my sake. You became bread, water, a warm tunic and my wife and son in order that I might see you. And I did see you. I bow down and worship your beloved many-faced face!’ ”
No one spoke. The old man sighed like a buffalo and, putting forth his forked staff, disappeared into the crowd. Next, a young man, newly married, lifted his fist and shouted, “They say you hold fire to burn up the world-to burn up our homes and children. Is this the kind of love you claim to bring us? Is this the justice: fire?”
Jesus’ eyes filled with tears. He pitied this newly married youth. Truly, was this the justice he brought: fire? Was there no other way to attain salvation?
“Tell us clearly what we have to do to be saved,” cried a house-owner who then elbowed his way through the gathering in order to come close for the answer, since be was hard of hearing.
“Open your hearts,” thundered Jesus, “open your larders, divide your belongings among the poor! The day of the Lord has come! Whoever stingily retains a loaf of bread, a jar of oil or a strip of land for his final hours will find that bread and that jar and that earth hanging around his neck and dragging him down to hell.”
“My ears are buzzing,” said the house-owner. “Excuse me if I leave, but I feel dizzy.”
He went off in a rage toward his rich villa. “Listen to that! Divide our belongings among the scabby rabble! Is that justice? Damn him to hell.” Mumbling to himself and cursing, he continued on.
Jesus watched him disappear. “Wide is the gate of hell,” he said with a sigh, “wide the road, and strewn with flowers. But the gate to God’s kingdom is narrow, the way uphill. While we live we may choose, for life means freedom. But when death comes, what’s done is done and there is no deliverance.”
“If you want me to believe in you,” shouted a man with crutches, “perform a miracle and heal me. Shall I enter the kingdom of heaven lame?”
“And I leprous?”
“And I with only one arm?”
“And I blind?”
The cripples moved forward in one body and stood threateningly in front of him. Losing all sense of restraint, they began to shout.
A blind old man lifted his staff. “Cure us,” he howled, “or you won’t leave our village alive!”
Peter ripped the staff out of the old man’s hands. “With a soul like yours, buzzard eyes, you’ll never see the light!”
The cripples drew together and became ferocious. The disciples became ferocious in their turn and placed themselves next to Jesus. Magdalene, terrified, put out her hand to bolt the door, but Jesus stopped her.
“Magdalene, my sister,” he said, “this is an unfortunate generation—all flesh. Habits, sins and fat crush their souls. I push away flesh, bones and entrails to find the soul, and I find nothing. Alas, I think the only cure is fire!”
He turned to the multitude. His eyes were now dry and pitiless.
“Just as we scorch the fields before sowing, in order for the good seed to thrive, so shall God scorch the earth. He has no mercy for thorns, tares or tarragon. That is the meaning of justice. Farewell!”
He turned to Thomas. “Blow your horn. We’re leaving!”
He put forth his staff. The benumbed people made way and he passed through. Magdalene ran into her house, seized her kerchief and—leaving the wool half spun, the earthenware pot on the mantel and the poultry unfed in her yard—tossed the doorkey into the middle of the road; then, without looking back, silent and tightly wrapped in her kerchief, she followed the son of Mary.
THE NIGHT was in its infancy when they arrived at Capernaum. The squall had passed over their heads. The north wind had blown and pushed it toward the south.
“We’ll all sleep at our house,” said Zebedee’s two sons. “It’s big, and there’s room for everyone. That’s where we’ll set up camp.”
“And old Zebedee?” said Peter, laughing. “He wouldn’t give a drop of water to an angel.”
John reddened. “Trust in the master,” he said. “His breath will have a good effect on him, you’ll see.”
But Jesus did not hear. He was marching in front, his eyes filled with the blind, the lame and the leprous. ... Ah, if I could only blow on every soul, he thought, and cry to it, Awake! Then, if it did awake, the body would become soul and be cured.
As they entered the large market town, Thomas inserted the horn between his lips in order to blow. But Jesus put out his hand. “Don’t,” he said. “I’m tired. ...” And indeed, his face was pale and the flesh around his eyes had turned blue. Magdalene knocked at the first door to ask for a cup of water. Jesus drank and recovered his strength.
“I owe you a cup of cool water, Magdalene,” he said to her with a smile.
He remembered what he had said to the other woman, the Samaritan, at Jacob’s well.
“I shall repay you with a cup of immortal water,” he added.
“You gave it to me a long time ago, Rabbi,” Magdalene answered with a blush.
&nbs
p; They passed by Nathanael’s cottage. The door was open and the master of the house stood in the yard under his fig tree. Pruning hook in hand, he was removing the tree’s dead branches. Philip quickly cut himself off from the group of travelers and entered.
“Nathanael,” he said, “I have something to tell you. Stop your pruning.” He went into the house. Nathanael followed and lighted the lamp. “Forget your lamps, your fig trees and your house,” Philip said to him, “and come.”
“Where?”
“Where? But haven’t you heard the news? The end of the world is here! Today or tomorrow the heavens will open and the world will be reduced to ashes. Move quickly and enter the ark so that you can be saved.”
“What ark?”
“The bosom of the son of Mary, the son of David—our rabbi from Nazareth. He’s just returned from the desert, where he met God. The two of them talked and decided on the destruction and salvation of the world. God placed his hand on our rabbi’s hair. ‘Go and choose who is to be saved,’ he said. ‘You are the new Noah. Look, here is the key to the ark so that you can open and close it,’ and he gave him a key of gold. He has it hanging around his neck, but the human eye cannot see it.”
“Speak clearly, Philip. I’m all confused. When did all these wonders take place?”
“Just now, I tell you, in the Jordan desert. They killed the Baptist, and his soul went into our rabbi’s body. To see him, you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s changed—grown wild, and sparks fly from his hands. Why, just now at Cana he touched the paralyzed daughter of the centurion of Nazareth, and all at once she jumped up and started to dance. Yes, I swear it by our friendship! We mustn’t lose any time. Come!”
Nathanael sighed. “Look here, Philip, I was so well set up, I had so many orders. Look, look at all these sandals and moccasins waiting to be finished. My business was sailing full speed ahead, and now ...” He threw a lingering glance around him, looked at his beloved tools, the stool on which he sat and patched, the cobbler’s knife, the awls, the waxed string, the wooden tacks. ... He sighed again. “How can I leave them?” he murmured.
“Don’t worry, you’ll find tools of gold up above. You’ll mend the golden sandals of the angels; you’ll have eternal, innumerable orders. You’ll sew, you’ll rip, you won’t lack work. Only move quickly; come and say to the master, ‘I’m with you!’—nothing else. ‘I’m with you and I’ll follow you wherever you go—to the death!’ That’s what we’ve all sworn.”
“To the death!” said the cobbler, shuddering. His body was huge, but he had the heart of a miller.
“It’s just a way of speaking, poor thing,” the shepherd said to reassure him. “That’s what we’ve all sworn, but don’t be afraid—we’re headed for majesty, not for death. This man, my friend, is not a man. No, he’s the Son of man!”
“It’s not the same, eh?”
“The same? Aren’t you ashamed to say that? Didn’t you ever hear anyone read the prophet Daniel? ‘Son of man’ means Messiah—in other words, King! He’s going to sit on the throne of the Universe very soon, and we—as many as were clever enough to join him—are going to divide up the honors and the wealth. You won’t walk barefooted any more. You’ll wear golden sandals, and the angels will stoop to tie your laces. Nathanael, I tell you it’s a good deal. Don’t let it slip out of your hands. What more need I say than to inform you that Thomas joined us. He smelled something good, the rascal, gave the very shirt off his back to the poor, and ran. So, you run too. He’s at Zebedee’s house now. Come on, let’s go.!”
But Nathanael held back, unable to decide. “Look here, Philip, you’ll have to answer for the consequences,” he said at last. “And I warn you: if I find the going rough, I leave for good. I’m ready for anything, short of getting myself crucified.”
“All right, all right,” said Philip, “we’ll both make ourselves scarce in that case. Do you think I’ve gone completely mad? ... Agreed? Let’s go!”
“Well, then—in God’s name!” He locked the door, put the key under his shirt, and the two of them departed arm in arm for Zebedee’s house.
Jesus and the disciples sat warming themselves in front of the lighted fire while old Salome went in and out, overjoyed. All her illnesses had disappeared. She went in and out, setting the table, and her pride in her sons and in serving the holy man who would bring the kingdom of heaven was insatiable. John leaned over and whispered into his mother’s ear. By glancing at the disciples he made her notice how they shivered, still dressed as they were in summer linens. The mother smiled, went inside, opened her trunks and took out woolen clothes. Then, quickly-before her husband’s return-she divided them up among the companions. The thickest robe, one of brilliantly white wool, she threw tenderly over Jesus’ shoulders.
He turned and smiled at her. “Bless you, Mother Salome,” he said. “It is right and just that you should care for the body. The body is the camel on which the soul mounts in order to traverse the desert. Care for it, therefore, so that it will be able to endure.”
Old Zebedee entered and looked at the unexpected visitors. He greeted them halfheartedly, then sat down in a corner. These robbers (that is what he called them) did not please him at all. Who invited them to come and take over his home? And his lavish wife had already laid them out a magnificent feast! Curse the day this new fanatic sprouted up. It wasn’t bad enough that he had stolen both his sons! No, besides that there were the arguments all day long with his idiotic wife, who took the two boys’ part. They had acted well, she said. This man was a true prophet: he would become king, throw out the Romans and sit on Israel’s throne. Then John would be enthroned to his right, Jacob to his left—great lords, not fishermen in rowboats, but great important lords! Why, do you think they should rot away their entire lives here on the water? Day and night Zebedee was nagged with this—and more—by the old idiot, who would bang her foot on the floor and shout. Sometimes he cursed and smashed whatever happened to be in front of him; sometimes he gave up in despair and went off to roam the edge of the lake like a madman. In the end he had taken to drink. And now—what next!—all these lawbreakers had moved into his house: nine immense mouths; and they had with them that whore a thousand times kissed, that Magdalene. They sat themselves down in a circle around the table and did not even turn to look at him—him, the master of the house—nor even ask his permission. So that’s what we’ve come to! Was it for these parasites that he and his ancestors had slaved for so many years? He flew into a rage and, jumping up, shouted, “Just a minute, my good men—whose house is this, yours or mine? Two and two make four. Will you tell me, please!”
“It’s God’s,” answered Peter, who had downed quite a few drinks and was in a merry mood. “God’s, Zebedee. Haven’t you heard the news? Nothing any more is yours or mine; everything is God’s.”
“The law of Moses—” Zebedee began, but Peter interrupted him before he could work up steam.
“What do I hear—the law of Moses? That’s done with, Zebedee, finished, gone for a nice long walk and never coming back. Now we have the Law of the Son of man. Understand? We’re all brothers! Our hearts have broadened, and with our hearts the law has also broadened. It now embraces the whole of mankind. The entire world is the Promised Land. The frontiers are gone! I, the very man you see before you, Zebedee, shall go proclaim the word of God to the nations. I’ll get clear to Rome—yes, don’t laugh—and I’ll grab the emperor by his Adam’s apple, knock him down and sit myself on the throne. And why not! As the master said, we’re no longer your kind of fishermen. We don’t catch fish; we’re fishers of men. And a word to the wise: flatter us, bring us plenty of wine and food, because one day—and quickly too—we’ll be great lords. You give us one dry piece of bread, and we’ll repay you with a whole ovenful in a few days. And what loaves! Immortal! You’ll eat and eat, and they’ll never be consumed.”
“Poor fellow, I already see you crucified upside down,” growled Zebedee, who had slunk away again to his corner. Listenin
g to Peter’s words, he had gradually begun to feel afraid. I’d better keep my mouth shut, he thought. You never know what will happen. The world is a sphere, and turns. It’s just possible that one day these madmen ... Let’s play safe, then, whatever happens!
The disciples laughed in their beards. They knew perfectly well that Peter was in a merry mood and joking; but inside themselves—though they still were not drunk enough to speak out—they secretly spun the same thoughts. Impressiveness, rank, clothes of silk, golden rings, abundant food—and to feel the world under the Jewish heel: that was the kingdom of heaven.
Old Zebedee took another drink and mustered up courage. “And you, teacher,” he said, “aren’t you going to open your mouth? You started all this, and now you sit back as cool as a cucumber while we others sweat it out. ... Look here, can you tell me in the name of your God why I should see my goods scattered and not scream about it?
“Zebedee,” Jesus answered, “there was once a very rich man who reaped, vintaged, gathered in the olives, stuffed his jugs, ate, filled himself and then lay down on his back in his yard. ‘My soul,’ he said, ‘you have many belongings. Eat, drink and be merry!’ But as he said this a voice was heard from the sky: ‘Fool, fool—this night you shall surrender your soul to hell. What will you do with all the goods you have amassed?’ Zebedee, you have ears, you hear what I say to you; you have a mind, you understand what I mean. May this voice of heaven be above you, Zebedee, night and day!”