Fifth Gospel (29 page)

TRANSFIGURATION

I
t
was night. All were asleep except for Christ in Jesus. He sat upon the mountain of stillness while the soul of humanity, the out-breath of villages and cities and towns and countries of the world lifted upwards, wafting towards the tangled stars.

Below
the world breathed in its orchards and sandy wastes, its oceans and cobbled streets and trembling deserts and verdant forests, and while men slept the world awakened from its daily dream and turned its mind to inner activities. He could feel its soul stir beneath him; he could hear its heartbeat quiver and he could smell its breath in the sweet scents borne on the breezes.

Since
he had come into Jesus, he had grown accustomed to the increasing burden of the man’s heart, to the organs speaking to him of pain and suffering, to the solidity under those feet, to the weight of that body, and to the sharp thoughts that pricked at his spirit. Now, the world no longer clawed at his senses or pierced into him like daggers. Outwardly, he was composed and quiet and sometimes he was that man of Nazareth whom all knew and spoke to; he was the man who seemed simple and kind and laughed at the childish ways of his disciples; the man who gave his friends riddles to solve and who sometimes listened politely to the insults of the rabbis and the doubts of the people. He was one with that man Jesus, yet inwardly, he was also a god, an exalted being who had come down from beyond the stars to be poured out into an earthly mould, a god with a task that was never far from his mind.

To ponder
it, he would take himself away from men, away from their questions, away from their grasping, their lack of understanding, and their stubborn ways. And he would receive solace then, not only for his spirit, but for his body also, since at the same time that his spirit communed with his Father in heaven, his body was rejuvenated by the angels on earth, as all human bodies are rejuvenated in sleep, and he was happy for it, while it lasted. But he knew that his body was unlike other human bodies. In the past men had been overshone by those angels and gods who had inspired them, but no God had ever entered into the blood and bones of a man, no God had ever died an earthly death – but this was his task – and he did not know if the body of Jesus would be capable of withstanding the immense power of his spirit to the very end, or if it would be torn asunder prematurely before the performance of his duty.

Even now
, things were altering. He could sense it. The deeper he entered into flesh and bones, the more those abilities that had so impressed the people until now, began to fade, and he knew that a time was close by, when his body would be seen outwardly as old, and wasted, and incapable of producing miracles of any kind, and he would be mocked as powerless and feeble. Would his chosen ones remain faithful to him then? Would Simon-Peter with his stubborn ways, and Andrew, with his deaf ears, and James, with his melancholic doubts, and John, with his insecurities, remain steadfast? He did not know. He did not know, if they understood that it was not his task to come as a great king, to wield power and to lead peoples, but to become ever more powerless.

The breathing of his men was woven into the night and became one with the chaotic thoughts, the despair of every hu
man heart – the mute, expressionless longing of a multitude of human souls. Christ in Jesus breathed in the dreamers of Israel, the dreamers of Samaria and Syria and Greece and Rome. He breathed in the world and its desires and hopes and fears and he breathed out solace, comfort and consolation. Even so, on setting aside their blankets in the morning, by small degrees, men’s eyes would return to their blindness, and their ears to their deafness. They would forget that he had been with them, when in their beds they shook with fear or humiliation, or raged with hatred, or cried with sorrow into their pillows.

He looked to his
disciples, wrapped in their dreams. When their wills were set free by sleep, he taught them. To one he gave this teaching, and to the other that, but in the waking day their minds fettered them, and they were prevented from remembering. Only three of the twelve had recognised him in the day enough to awaken to his splendour in the night, these were John, Peter and James.

And t
o them he said:

Awaken! And b
ehold the spirit of creation!

Its
beginning, its centre and its end.

I am the cause of east and west, of north and south,

I am the cause of all that is in the heights above

And in the depths below,

I am truth itself,

I am revelation,

I am knowledge,

P
iety and the law.

I am almighty!

Among this brilliance, legions of spirits, a multitude of elemental beings of water, air, fire, and earth, awakened to see him and to answer his call. Moses and Elijah, too, came to stand beside his outspread arms, and thus it was, that between the Way and the Truth, between the stars, and the earth, He shone like a vermilion sun, a splendour that would not be seen again until his resurrection.

This was his gift to
the world of the elements, and to his chosen ones. A vision of His true ethereal person, of the light, love and life, that would not only renew nature itself, but would also sustain his disciples in the coming difficult months ahead, when his body outwardly aged, and his health inclined towards death. But unlike nature, Peter, John and James did not awaken fully to his call! No! Instead, they trembled in their dreams, and could bear to see his grand and celestial dimensions only darkly, and to hear his call only feebly.

He des
paired, for if they were not able to awaken in their sleep with his help, how would they remain awake when he needed them? He watched them fall away from him, one by one, and like every other soul in the world, continue sleeping.

And he knew he must look for another man to take their place
.

THE RICH YOUTH

T
he world was sleeping. It sleeps darkly still, trembling with fear for the truth! I think on it as I continue to make my way down this mountain, singing my song. Those who accompany me on this downward journey are good souls, and although I share in their destiny, I no longer share their fears or their misconceptions. Lea’s words, of the renewal of nature, and the gift given by Christ to his disciples, had awakened me to a knowledge that the world of soil, and water, and air, and fire is not a hell created by an evil God, as our church believes, but is a place wherein lives Christ! And so, there is nothing in nature that does not breathe with His love.

If I incline my ear,
I can hear the stone heart of the mountains beating with love in its dark depths. I can hear the living juice of love that moves in the trees. I can hear the love in the buzz of this little bee, which leads the way down this mountain. I can even hear the love, however misplaced, that rises with the cadence of the song of inquisitors, the
Spirite Sancti
.

I
want to tell them that like streams, all religions of the world long to return to the one source. They have become estranged, they have wandered far, they have become muddy, and stagnant, and yet, a memory lingers of that clear source, from which they came – their faith in Christ!

I
can tell them this because during those days of the siege I had begun to see. Yes! This was faith after all! Faith was revelation! When I climbed to the parapets I was no longer interested in the encampment below but instead looked to the blue expanses above, where the brightness of the previously unseen world of elements was becoming visible to me.

I w
ished then that I could show it to the inquisitors! I would say, ‘look up to the stars! Do you not see how they speak one to the other in a profound geometry? Look at the trees! Do you not see the halo glow of light around each one and how it breathes out to meet the glory coming from the heights? Look at the clouds and the sea! Do you not see in these, the ethereal bodies of the angels?’ But, alas! The inquisitors, fearing that such things in the soul are the work of the devil would not see them, for fear itself is what blinds a man and dissolves his faith, as Peter so well understood!

I
n my own infinitely small way, I can comprehend the sorrow of Christ for the blindness of his disciples. He had one alternative left to him, Lea told me that night, one man on whom to lay his hopes – Lazarus.

Lazarus
too had once gazed out from his tower in Magdala, to see the word of love weaving in all things, and so when Lea began to tell of Bethany, with its sleep-locked houses shaded by almond, fig and olive trees, I could feel how different it was from Magdala. I know this even more so now, because I am descending from my tower, to a place where I will have to let everything I know die away. I know that only in such a place as Bethany could Lazarus answer his call, as I am answering mine in that field below.

‡

Situated on the northern face of a mount known for its olive trees, the castle, bequeathed to Lazarus, Martha and Mary by their father, was large. It had rooms and accommodation for many, and was surrounded by gardens and terraces and fountains. In one of these walled gardens there stood an ancient date palm, under which was erected a booth, made to commemorate Israel’s pilgrim days and the holiday known as,
The Feast of the Tabernacles
. Lazarus sat with his master, in this leafy booth constructed from the boughs of living trees.

He
inclined his ailing body on cushions and closed his eyes to let the smells of fish and rosemary and the sounds of the women cooking in the house comfort him. His master sat on a rush mat, so quiet and still, that it seemed to Lazarus as though only the body of his master was before him while his true essence was very far away.

Lazarus
closed his eyes and his thoughts turned to arduous journeys, to rain and to sun, to being hunted and to fleeing. In his dream he saw his master sending the followers away to the townships to proclaim him, and he saw himself journeying home with the women to Bethany.

For a moment
, the mislaid world returned, and he opened his eyes. He was in the booth. He heard the women arguing in the house. He saw his master. His eyes closed, and he was sunk down again, into half dreams where he heard his master’s words:

‘You must forsake not merely your worldly riches
, which are easy to sacrifice, Lazarus, but those riches of your old soul, the riches of other lives,’ he said to him. ‘You must become like a poor man who has not even a loin cloth; like a little child, that is not ashamed to stand naked before God. Only then will you enter the kingdom!’

He opened his eyes again
, and realised his master was returned again, and was looking upon him with kind concern.

Jesus said
to him, ‘I have been in Jerusalem…in secret.’

Lazarus shivered
. ‘At this moment…as you sat in contemplation?’

‘My spirit is still able to leave the body
, and so I can speak in the Temple while I sit here with you…this ability will not last.’

At that moment Magdalena entered the booth to bring Lazarus a cool cloth. She was so beautiful
to his eyes, his little sister whom his master had saved from the madness of her visions.

His master looked upon her with love
, for she was also his spirit pupil. He said to her, ‘Stay a while…I must speak with you.’

She sat at his feet.

‘Listen to me Magdalena…soon the time comes for my sacrifice, but first must come the sign.’

Magdalena fell to weeping
, and Christ Jesus put a soothing hand on her head and said to her tenderly, ‘Weep not for you will be the first to see me when I am raised, so be strong. For now we will speak of the last sign that must be performed before the Son of Man can go to his death. Your brother has near discarded the garment of his body, and soon he will pass into spiritual worlds. He will die, and you and your sister will have to prepare his body for the burial. You will sit with him and hold him in your heart, you will be the guardian of his soul, Magdalena, while Martha will be the guardian of his body. Do this until I return. Have faith, support your brother as you have support me. For in every death there is a rebirth. Wait for my call when the last sign shall be accomplished. I will raise your brother from the world of the dead. I will do this to reveal to all that Christ lives in me.’ He looked to Lazarus then, ‘Remember Lazarus, my brother, this is only a preparation for you will live long. Years from now you shall see the heavens part above you, and all those things which you shall witness, in your dying and becoming, will be made more clear to you. Your heart shall catch on fire and your soul shall be as a parchment on which God shall write his words. This is not the end for you but it is only enacted to show the glory of God in me.’

Lazarus could barely hear these
things. He felt a sudden peace overtake him. The world was still. Quiet was the sea and air, and the very heavens came to rest, and among this harmony did his acquiescent soul lift up from him.

And
that is when he entered the Kingdom.

THE
SIXTH SIGN

I
t
was the Feast of the Tabernacles, a time of great commemoration in the Hebrew Calendar and Claudia Procula, having heard that Jesus was in Jerusalem and discoursing with the Pharisees at the temple, made hasty preparations to see him.

She took herself out into the streets dressed like a Jew so as not to attract undue attention
, and it was not long before she sensed as she made her way through the crowds, the presence of Gaius Cassius, following some way behind her.

It was her custom
in those days to alert him of her movements by way of a note sent with Susannah. She understood that he followed her not only because it was his charge but also because between them was formed an understanding, bound not by duty, but by a friendship grown over many months as they now and again travelled to see Jesus.

This understanding had made her feel strangely disloyal to her husband
, and there were many times when she almost told him of her doings, of her soul’s newfound joy, and the wide horizons that lay open to her heart’s senses. She wanted to tell him that she considered herself a follower of Jesus, but each time something had prevented it, and the words had come into her mind – not yet.

She considered that
these feelings of guilt may have been the cause of the frightful dream that had woken her in the night and left her drenched in perspiration.

In the dream,
she had seen herself walking into a world that above and below was the colour of blood and storm cloud. Into this world, she walked towards a great gathering of people, like a statue dressed in white. In her arms she carried a ream of the finest white cotton, which was taken up by the gentle breezes and began to unspool behind her. Where it touched the ground, it became soaked in blood. The smell of blood was everywhere, and a terrifying sense of urgency. She sensed something of grand and frightening proportions awaited her beyond the crowds, but the crowds would not let her pass, and she knew the reason: within her lived the cursed blood of the Caesars! How could she cross the threshold to see the portent of her dream, when it was sure to send her mad, as it had sent her forebears before her?

When she woke
she could taste blood and smell it on her hands and the smell did not go, no matter how many times she washed them.

Distressed now to think on it, she made her way to the
temple on the Octave of the feast. As she pushed past the worshippers and entered through the porches to the court of the Gentiles she thought only of finding a way to Jesus to beg him to cleanse her blood of the sins of her forefathers.

When she saw him she was filled with hope.
He stood in that grand court like a dream, for it seemed as if the day’s light alone had collected itself into the form of his shape. He was speaking to the Pharisees and her heart swelled to hear his voice resound with so much authority. But something caused her to pause, something not outwardly apparent, a fidget of the eye, a whispered word, she could not tell. She looked for Cassius but he was nowhere in sight. Of course! The man’s eyes were not good and she was dressed like a Jew! How could he tell her among so many? Her husband’s words of warning rang in her ears now and into her heart came Jesus’ voice.

‘‘I am the foundation of the very world! I am not only one with Abraham, but
I was before Abraham was!’

Th
e Pharisees seemed to have become incensed. A great commotion erupted all around her. She could not understand it for she only knew the language of the people, the simple and beautiful Aramaic. She knew nothing of the harsh language of the Pharisees, whose whipping words struck the crowds like blows fomenting their anger and causing them to take up stones to throw at Jesus.

She
felt herself pale. She thought of her dream – the blood, the crowds! Was this the meaning of her dream? Would they kill him now? Would they stone one of their own, in their very temple? She pressed through the crowds to find Cassius. Surely he would prevent it! But the people crushed forward, clamouring to get to Jesus. She slipped on her own skirts then and fell into the tangled darkness of arms and legs.

She could not
breathe.

She heard
shouts in Latin and the world of bodies above her parted and a hand heaved her up and away.

Dazed, she felt herself taken through the throngs
. Pilate’s guards were around her and Cassius was hitting out at the people to make them give way. He yelled and spat and cursed as his strong hands helped to move her out of the court.

‘Make way! Make way, you animals!’ he s
houted.

Trumpets sounded and s
oldiery on horses arrived and the people dispersed in fear. Beyond the crowds, through the confusion of voices and bodies, she looked and saw Jesus. This time he was stooping over a blind man. How he had escaped the madness she did not know.

When
Jesus looked up again, his eyes found hers, and into her mind he said these words:

See this man born blind? His parents have not sinned, nor has he sinned in this life, but his blindness
comes from a former life in which he had sinned. I can work with what passes from life to life; I can make null and void the consequences of your former lives, so that you can start anew.

She saw him spit on his hands and take up the clay
-dirt at his feet. He made a paste with it and used it to anoint the man’s eyes.

Now
the words of the poet, Virgil, came to her lips:

What a sublime vision for the eye of the seer! A superman walks on earth again! A hero…a new Dionysus…a ruler over the hearts of men…full of peace!

This was not Jesus alone she could see, for she could see something else, yes…that Sun-like godhood…the Christ in him!

‡

‘What happened to her, Lea?’

‘
She was born again,
pairé
, nine hundred years after Christ, as a blind child.’

‘
A blind child? But what had she done to deserve it…is this compensation again?’ I said squinting and rubbing my own tired eyes.

‘
Listen
, pairé
, her father was the Duke of Eticho and he wished to kill his own child because he did not want his vassals to say that her blindness was caused by some fault of his. But the mother spirited the baby away and later, when the child was baptised by a Bishop, her sight was restored and she was given a new name, Odile, which means Sun of God.’

‘
Saint Odile? Oh, my! Claudia Procula becomes Saint Odile! There is something in that!’ I thought on it, ‘She was born blind because she remembered the healing of the blind man, is that what you are saying?’

‘The healing she had seen lived so deeply in the soul of Claudia,
pairé
, that it became a part of her body in the next life.’

I took a moment to ponder it
. ‘We are not meant to escape the endless wheel of incarnations, are we Lea? We are meant to return, again and again as Buddha told Jesus. Perhaps we have been like the Essenes in our faith!’ I fell into despondency to think this. ‘We have kept ourselves pure by closing ourselves off from the world. Perhaps we too have become prideful? Have we not forsaken the earth as a place of the devil, and do we not see the incarnation of the soul again and again as a punishment? We even take the
consolamentum
so that we may never return!’

‘But the Catholics too
, have erred,
pairé
, since they do not see past one life and have bound themselves to dogmas and laws like the rabbis. Your faith has grown too light, and the Catholic faith has grown too heavy. One sees only purgatory while the other sees only heaven…the ideal lives between them, in the middle,’ she said.