"No!"
"What, then, did he do? Fuck his sheep?"
And Brother Paul was unable to answer. This devil was overwhelming him with horror. How could he choose between fornication, homosexuality, masturbation, and bestiality?
Then, like a bright light, it struck him: "The Bible only covers a small portion of Jesus' life! Only his birth, his bar mitzvah at age twelve, and his spiritual mission commencing at the age of thirty. Eighteen years of his youth and early maturity are missing. He could have led a perfectly normal life in every respect, which the framers of the New Testament were too prudish to mention—or simply didn't know about!"
"Which is what I suggested at the outset," Therion agreed. "That woman at the well was about as sexy as Samaritans come. Note how thereafter he told the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Obviously he was thinking of the good lay he had—"
"No!" Brother Paul was back in the first trap, sloughing through the muck of a degenerate's imagination. "No casual sex. He must have married—"
Therion raised an eyebrow. He had superb facial control. "Is there any mention of that in the Bible?"
Was there no way out? "No, no mention. But as I said, editing or oversight—"
"Do you really believe they could have missed something like that? A whole wife mislaid?" Therion smiled with satisfaction at his passing pun. "Not one Apostle, not one associate of Christ saying one word about the little woman? No widow at the crucifixion, no children orphaned?"
It was hopeless. "No, they could not have missed that," Brother Paul admitted heavily. "Jesus was not married." How tempting to conjecture a loving wife who died childless of some fever before Jesus commenced his mission—but futile.
"So we are back to the question. What did Jesus do with his penis when he wasn't urinating?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you think you owe it to your mission to find out?"
Diabolical imperative! "Yes," Brother Paul said grimly. The honor of Jesus Christ had been challenged, and Brother Paul had to vindicate it—if he could. Failure would mean the elimination of the entire complex of religions deriving from Christ and leave the field open to the Horned God.
"There's the record," Therion said, indicating the Bible.
"Father, forgive me," Brother Paul murmured prayerfully. "I must do it." He stepped toward the huge Book, and the pages flipped over so rapidly that they became a blur. He put one foot into that blur and then the other, sank into it as into a bank of fog, and found himself in Galilee, standing in a mountain pasture. He looked about.
It was a typical semi-tropic slope with a few sturdy trees and tall grass going to seed. In due course, he was sure, a shepherd would guide his sheep here, and in a few days they would crop the grass low. Then they would go on to a greener pasture, allowing this one to recycle itself. There were no fences of course; the land was open to any who cared to use it and who had the power to preempt it. Shepherds could be rough characters, he knew; little David had become master of the sling, protecting his flock from wolves, and had used that weapon to slay Goliath.
A man emerged from the brush down the incline, walking in relaxed but purposeful manner. This was Jesus; Brother Paul knew him at a glance, for he recognized Lee's bearing. Naturally Jesus was coming this way: Brother Paul's Animation had been crafted to put him in the man's path.
Jesus spied him and paused. Brother Paul raised a hand in greeting. This was a scene from a play, of course, and not genuine history, yet he felt a thrill of expectancy. Even in a mere skit, the notion of meeting Jesus Christ personally...
"Hello," Brother Paul said as Jesus approached. He did not speak in Jesus' native language, Aramaic, as neither he nor Lee knew it. In a real jaunt into the past, there would be a virtually insurmountable linguistic barrier.
"Hello," Jesus responded. He was about Brother Paul's age with shoulder length hair lightened by the fierce Levantine sun. His beard was short and rather sparse. He held his long staff ready, a weapon in abeyance.
Now it was awkward. Brother Paul did not feel free to ask Jesus directly about the state of his sex life, but he could not simply let the man go. "I—crave companionship. May I walk with you?"
Jesus looked surprised. "You wish to walk with a pariah of Nazareth? Don't you know that I am Jesus, called son of Joseph the carpenter?"
"I am... Paul," Brother Paul said, not wishing to identify himself as a follower of a religion not yet founded. "I... was raised by foster parents."
Jesus warmed immediately. "Foster parents! They are good people?"
"Very good," Brother Paul agreed. "But not quite—" He spread his hands. "There is always that shadow, however unjustified."
"Yes!" Jesus agreed. "Joseph is a good carpenter and a good man. Always good to me, despite—" He paused, took a breath, squared his shoulders, and resumed. "I am not really his child. My mother was gravid before she married him. He knew this, yet did not divorce her or demand the refund of the bridal price. He accepted me so as to protect her reputation and never discriminated against me in favor of his true children by her."
"Yet you suffer the stigma," Brother Paul said sympathetically.
"All my life! When I tend herd well, the villagers do not say 'There is an excellent shepherd who guides his sheep to the best pastures and makes them fat—' " Jesus paused, his eyes roving over the pasture around them speculatively. "They say instead 'The bastard was lucky.' When I excel at Scripture they do not hail me for my scholarship, but sneer privately at my presumption. I am the intruder, though I never sought to be so. I shall not be heir to Joseph's shop."
"The ignorant are cruel," Brother Paul said. He had not realized how sensitive this issue would be. Bastardy...
"Sometimes I get so angry—" Jesus clapped one fist into the other palm, making a sharp report. "Once a companion sneered at me half-covertly, and I threw him to the ground." He shook his head. "I should not have done that. But I have such a temper at times! It is written 'More in number than the hairs of my head are those who hate me without cause.' Yet when I respond to that derision, I become as they are."
"Yes," Brother Paul agreed. "Um—would you mind telling me the source of that quotation? I fear I am not as apt a scholar as you." Actually he knew it, but wanted to compliment Jesus again. Was he being a hypocrite, playing up to a man in order to learn his secrets?
"It is from the 69th Psalm," Jesus said. "It continues: 'Oh, God, you know my foolishness, and my sins are not hidden from you.' "
"Most apt," Brother Paul said. But privately he was disturbed. This was a perfectly serious, decent, human man—a far cry from any Son of God. There was no aura of divinity about him, no special atmosphere. How could this earnest country man found one of the major religions of all time?
"I was going to a special place," Jesus said somewhat diffidently. "An old temple, pagan I fear, yet conducive to meditation. If you care to come along—"
"I'd like to," Brother Paul said.
They proceeded to the place. This was an oddly uniform depression set in the side of a mountain, its rim overgrown by huge old cedar trees that Brother Paul was sure had been wiped out by his own time. It was well-concealed. This area was sparsely populated; only by accident was this meditation place likely to be discovered. In fact, without the trees it would hardly be worth discovering.
"You must have encountered this retreat while herding sheep," Brother Paul said.
"A shepherd has much time to explore," Jesus agreed. "And to think."
Brother Paul saw water at the base of the depression. "Is that a spring? It looks cool."
"No spring," Jesus said. "It fills when there is rain, then dries again. At the moment it is fresh, but soon it will be stagnant, not good for watering animals. Otherwise many more flocks would come here, for water is precious."
"Yes, indeed," Brother Paul agreed. "I'd like to take a swim."
"Swim?" Jesus was perplexed.
"My people live near fresh water," Brother Paul explained. "We enjoy
swimming. Don't you?"
Jesus shrugged, embarrassed. "I cannot swim."
A mountain man, unused to deep water. Well, half the people of Brother Paul's own day could not swim; the ratio was probably worse here. "I would be happy to show you how."
Jesus considered. "As I mentioned, there are ruins here, perhaps of a pagan temple. The water covers them now, but if your faith forbids your approach—"
"I appreciate the warning," Brother Paul said. "But my faith is unlikely to be contaminated by a pagan ruin. Maybe Ezekiel's four-faced visitors had a base here. That would strengthen my faith because it would be a confirmation of the Scriptural description."
Jesus laughed. "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. I am not certain in which category you fit."
"There is no shame in swimming," Brother Paul said. "It is a good skill to have in case one should ever be shipwrecked. No sense in drowning when just a little preparation will save you." Of course the real Jesus had walked on the surface of the water—though that could have been an illusion. On hot days one could see water-like mirages in hollows of roads, and nearby objects were even reflected in that water. Had Jesus walked in such a place...
Jesus nodded. "It is written: Truly, no man can ransom himself, or give to God the price of his life.' What will it profit a man, if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his life?"
No question: this role was Jesus, later to be known as the Christ! Yet where was the magic that would compel men to drop their businesses to follow him, to give their own lives to promote his cause?
"Are you a teacher of Scripture?" Brother Paul asked cautiously. He did not use the word Bible because the formulation of the Bible had been accretive over many centuries, and at the time of Jesus its precise format or content had not been settled. In fact, the Bible was not originally a book at all, but a collection of canonical writings, a religious library.
Jesus smiled with mild self-disparagement. "I am not yet of the age to be a rabbi."
Not yet thirty, the age of intellectual maturity. "Still, you are nearly that age. You must have discussed your scriptural knowledge with others informally." Leading questions—yet it was important to ascertain how much of the Christian historians' view of Jesus was realistic and how much was hyperbole. Had Jesus really been a great teacher, springing into being at age thirty?
"Oh, yes, friend Paul, many times. But my countrymen are farmers, shepherds, and fishermen; they care little for the magic of the scriptures and regard me as—as a local boy, reciting verses tediously."
"But the ancient testament is not tedious!"
Jesus spread his hands. "Not to you, not to me. But how does it relate to farmers whose concern is rain and soil and seeds? There is the problem!"
"Seeds," Brother Paul mused. "What is the smallest seed?"
"The mustard," Jesus replied promptly.
"Couldn't you translate the message of the Scriptures into just such common terms? Take the little mustard seed and how it must be sowed in fertile soil, just as a human soul must—"
"And the tiniest of all seeds grows into the largest of all herbs, a tree for birds to nest in," Jesus finished. "Yes, that they might comprehend!"
"The power of the parable," Brother Paul agreed. "A little folksy story made up of familiar things to illustrate a Scriptural point. That way you could reach the common people who otherwise be by-passed."
"I must think about that," Jesus said. "I do know Scripture, and I know the common life. If the two could be unified, religion and reality—"
"Many people might listen," Brother Paul finished. "And understand. And profit. Because for the first time a teacher spoke their own language, instead of seeming to try to conceal the word of God from them."
"Yet the high priests of the Temples would not permit—"
"Why stay cooped up in the temples? In my country those who refuse to relate their learning to the real world are called 'Ivory Tower Intellectuals.' It is as though they are locked in towers fashioned of burnished bone of their own making, perhaps very handsome residences—but they are out of touch with the practical aspects of life. Your message should be taken out to the field and forest and lake, where the living people are."
Jesus nodded. "To bring the message to the people..."
Brother Paul stripped down and made his way to the pond. At the water's edge he paused and turned, waiting for Jesus.
The two naked men stared at each other. "You are a Gentile!" Jesus exclaimed.
"And you—" Brother Paul started, but could not continue. For Jesus' generative organ was strangely mutilated. Immediately Brother Paul tried to cover up his reaction. "Yes, I am a Gentile, not a Jew. I have never been circumcised. But I honor many of the tenets you honor, among them the validity of the Scriptures."
"But you are outside the Faith!"
Brother Paul smiled. "Is it not possible for a man to be outside the Faith, even to be a pagan, yet be worthwhile? Do not some, like the Samaritans, begin as pagans but seek enlightenment?"
Jesus considered, then nodded. "Yes, surely. There are people who walk in darkness, then see a great light. They are good people, needing only guidance. Perhaps even the Samaritans." He grimaced. "If only there were suitable guidance! The scholars have become hypocrites selling favors in the temple, mouthing Scriptures they neither comprehend nor practice."
"That is unfortunate," Brother Paul said. Jesus had an accurate notion of the problem, but seemed to have no present intention of doing anything about it himself. Where was that Divine spark? "Someone should go there and advise them of their error."
"Someone should go there and cast out the merchants and thieves and overturn the tables of the moneychangers!" Jesus said vehemently. "The temple is supposed to be a place of prayer, not business!" But in a moment he cooled, glancing down at himself. "As for me—I was born in a stable, and some say this is reflected in my manner."
"And I was educated in a barn," Brother Paul put in.
Jesus smiled and continued. "That was in Bethlehem, in Judea, for my family had to go there for the census, for the taxing. Then they were afraid for my life because evil Herod had been told a new King was being born, and he feared he would be replaced and so was having babies killed. It was just a rumor started by some foreign astrologers who had observed an unusual conjunction of Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars—nothing ordinary people would notice, but as one who has watched the stars many clear nights I can assure you that those three never come together at the same time, so it would have been amazing if true—but it certainly set Herod off! The Romans took the matter lightly, and only a few babies were actually killed, but my family was quite alarmed at the time and had to travel to Egypt quickly because of it. They could not make proper arrangements for my circumcision, yet it had to be on the eighth day. The knife cut too deep, and there was an infection, and on the road they could not have it attended to. So—" He lifted his stricken penis momentarily, showing the gross scar on it and the imperfectly developed testicles. He was not castrate, but it seemed likely he was sterile, and more than likely impotent.
"This is a terrible thing," Brother Paul said sympathetically. "In my country there are medications—"But obviously it was almost thirty years too late. Jesus had grown to manhood deprived, victim of unusual circumstances.
"I have long since become used to it," Jesus said. "At least I have never been tempted to sin." He frowned. "Though when I see the delight others have in such temptations, at times I am tempted to wish for a similar temptation."
Thus at one stroke (of an unsterile knife) all of Therion's conjectures had been nullified. Jesus had never felt the need of direct sexual expression and was quite certainly pure. But why, God, did it have to be done this way?
Jesus came down to the water and stepped in it. His feet plunged through to the ground beneath; there was after all no foolishness about walking on water.
Well, on to business, such as it was. "Swimming is mainly a matte
r of confidence," Brother Paul said. He squatted, immersing himself. The water was chill. "The human body in most cases is lighter than water, so it floats. Trust in that, and all else follows."
"One must have faith," Jesus said.
"That's it exactly! With faith, all things become possible. Now I'll demonstrate what we call the dead man's float." Was he making a pun there? The dead member Jesus had would never float.
Brother Paul stretched out his hands, ducked his head, and pushed off face down. He propelled himself by flutter kicking his feet. After a moment he raised his head and treaded water. "See how easy it is? If a dead man can do it, how much better for a living one!"
But Jesus had the caution of a man who had never before trusted himself to deep water. "I fear if I do that, I will soon be dead! How do you breathe?"
"Well, that's the next step. Let me show you the dog paddle."
"The dog piddle?" Jesus asked, frowning.
"Paddle." Brother Paul demonstrated.
Jesus watched and smiled with comprehension. "Yes, I have see a dog do that, too. But I am not a dog."
"Maybe we'd better start with a basic man-type survival technique," Brother Paul said. "With this you need never drown, no matter how long you stay in the water. Just take a breath, hold it, and float just under the surface, completely relaxed. Your feet will sink, but your head should be near the top. Then when you need air, stroke your arms down, so your head comes up, uncoil your body, take a breath—and sink down again. You may get cold, but you'll never get tired."
Soon, with Brother Paul's encouragement, Jesus took his first float-breaths, then made his first travel-strokes. He was unashamedly pleased. "God has borne me up! I have learned a skill I thought beyond me!"
"Yes," Brother Paul agreed. "But make sure you always have company when you practice it. Water is dangerous if it is unfamiliar. Now we'd better get out before we freeze."
Jesus glanced at him curiously. "I am not cold."
"I dare say you have spent many chill nights in the open tending your flocks." Where were those sheep now? Probably in the care of a younger brother, now that Jesus was approaching the age of citizenship. "I am not as hardy as you." An unfeigned compliment this time.