The Gospel of the Twin (6 page)

Chapter Nine

Verse One

Mary said to Judas, “Why have you not married me? Do you not love me?”

They were relaxing with Jesus, Andrew, and me by the river. The cool season was finally moving in, and we were quite happy just to watch the reeds ripple in the breeze. Bluntness was in Mary's nature, and she often asked intimate questions as easily as others ask what the hour of day is.

I was surprised when Judas answered without hesitation. “I love you more than I love the heavens and Earth and all that is within them,” said Judas. “I'd rather spend my life scrubbing the floors of a Roman whorehouse and eating pig bones from their table and know that you once thought of me fondly than live as the King of Persia without your memory. I'd rather haunt the caves of Sheol ten thousand years knowing that you lived and remembered me than sit by the throne of the Lord and be forgotten by you.”

I had never heard Judas speak with such tenderness. And I thought then that if anyone could temper his militancy, Mary could.

“Then let us marry now,” Mary said. “Is John not a priest?”

So we went with them to John. He was sitting on the edge of his stage talking casually to a few dozen people seated on the ground before him. I think his subject was the prophet Micah.

Mary led Judas by the hand, stepping briskly through the seated group. “John, Judas and I want you to marry us.”

“Who am I to marry you?” asked John. “I am not a man of the law.”

Mary placed her hand upon John's. “If not you, John, then who?”

“Why do you seek anyone's authority?” Jesus said. “Is your love not a strong enough bond on its own? Male and female seek their rest in union. This is the way of the world for all eternity. Bind your spirits as one, and you will become children of the Lord. Come with me.”

Jesus led Mary and Judas onto the platform. He turned them to face each other, then placed their hands together. Judas and Mary kissed, and then Jesus kissed them both. Jesus began to sing, “We are one with the Lord, and the Lord is one with us.” We all sang together and danced, and we told each other that we were not of the world but of a different kingdom, and that night we believed it.

“Your brother is a born leader,” someone said at my side. I turned to see Andrew smiling at the stage.

“Indeed. But we already have a leader here.”

“Perhaps for now,” Andrew said, and then he joined in on the dance.

Verse Two

We continued to live with John for nearly another year. Hundreds more followers came to hear him preach from his platform about “the filth piling up to our necks that no Jordan can wash away, but which can be cleansed only by the flaming hand of God,” and about “the awful clash between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness when the Lord sends us His anointed one whose sword will flash like a blinding star,” and about “the long night of blood when we shall cry out for death but instead shall endure to rejoice over the grave of the slain seven-headed beast.” His followers wept and cheered at these stark, frenzied words and believed him anointed by the Lord to bring about a revolution. John said nothing to deny that belief. In his speeches, he would tell the people that they were unworthy to do the Lord's work, and they would cry to him, “Make us clean!” Each month the lines grew longer, forming long before sundown, with those waiting to have him submerge them in the river.

At night, as we sat around the fire with him and a few of his closest followers, he would tell of a great transformation that the Lord would soon initiate.

“The world will change,” John said to us. “The Pure Ones have scriptures that tell of this, and I have seen visions of it myself. But the Pure Ones were satisfied, like most of our people, to sit and wait. That is why I left them, for I am trying to prepare us to take charge as the Lord gives us the signs.”

“How will the signs come?” I asked.

“They come each day,” he said. “You and Jesus and Judas—you are signs.”

“We've heard this before,” said Judas. “Many have claimed that the Lord will appoint a leader, and some have claimed to be such saviors. Each has proved false, and most have paid with their lives. The Romans charge them with sedition and nail them to trees so that we can watch them die in agony. We must prepare in secrecy and choose our compatriots with care.”

“You speak as if you're fearful, Judas,” said John.

“I fear only that you're walking the wrong path—one that leads us nowhere,” Judas said.

“Judas may sound rather sharp,” Andrew said, “yet I think, John, maybe you should give us a clearer idea of how and when the revolution will occur.”

“Look about you!” John said. “You've seen the numbers grow. Already we have two thousand, and more arrive each day. They all want the same as you. Soon they will be joined by another ten thousand, and we must prepare them all.”

“I have spoken with some here who are brave and ready, in the same manner as I,” said Judas.

“We know well your readiness, Judas,” Jesus said, “but perhaps the path we walk is wide enough for both you and John.”

I was sure that Jesus did not understand the differences between those two. John was waiting for the Lord, in a flaming, cloud-borne chariot, to lead armored angels in battle against a demon throng while an anointed general led us in a parallel campaign against the Romans here below. Judas had no such heavenly illusions and was unwilling to wait on a God he believed had forgotten us.

I thought they were both misguided, although I agreed more with Judas. But Jesus saw only their fervor. I struggled to abide his habit of seeing only the best in people, sometimes ascribing to them a clarity of purpose and sincerity that they hardly possessed. I constantly worried that he would be exploited by some charlatan he thought a friend.

Verse Three

“Your brother's notion that John and I can walk a path together is foolish,” Judas said to me the next evening after another day of John's sermons. Earlier that day, he had asked me to take a walk with him to discuss an “urgent matter.” Now he pointed back toward the camp, where dozens of fires were already lit. “All those people there―are they on the same path? They're willing to follow John even if the path leads off a cliff. They have no direction, and what's worse, neither does he.”

We stopped and, for a minute or longer, I watched the campfires brighten in the twilight and thought of their various metaphors. The light of knowledge in the darkness of ignorance. Portable hearths for the homeless. John's cosmic Sons of Light amid the Sons of Darkness. I knew that Judas was waiting for me to take his cue. A dialogue would mean, to him, a privileged understanding between us, or even a conspiracy.

“We've been here a long time,” I said.

“Yes. And what have we done?” He looked into the darkness as if trying to identify a familiar form, and we resumed our walk away from the camp. “You listen to John just like the rest of us. Have his ideas progressed since we got here? He's repetitive, and he's dependent upon style over substance. ‘Prepare you the way of the Lord. A revelation is soon coming. Good will triumph over evil, light over dark. Deliverance from Babylon.' I admire his talent as showman, and he could no doubt motivate an army to action. But so far, Cousin, he inspires his followers simply to sit and cheer him on. I don't know how they maintain their patience. John has no plan, Thomas. Am I right?”

I said nothing.

Judas clutched my sleeve, and we stopped. “We are at a crucial point, a point at which we must ask ourselves the unavoidable question: Does
Jesus
have a plan?”

“You think we should leave.”

Judas used his dagger to scrape at the heel of his palm, perhaps to shave a callus. “I thought for a while that John could distract the Romans while we efficiently carried out a plan. If they believed John was mounting a revolt and focused their attention on him, we could raise a real movement out of their sight. Thomas, we are here because we followed Jesus. We believe in him. You know that he has charisma. People will follow him, but he's become distracted. He'll never fulfill his promise as a leader so long as he's enthralled by John.”

“He's not enthralled. He's waiting for the right time.”

Judas spat on the ground. “Then we have to convince him that the time is right.”

I had to agree with Judas. Most evenings when he, Jesus, John, a few others of the inner circle, and I would hold council, Jesus grew increasingly likely to support John rather than disagree: God will deliver us; God will be ready for us only when we are ready for him; the war will not be for land, but for the cleansing of the Earth. That would not have been problematic if John's ideas were not, as Judas said, so
repetitive
. “I'll speak to Jesus.”

“It's too late for that, Cousin.”

I knew that the more familiar Judas's speech and gestures became, the more serious he was about recruiting us into his plot. He had done this with us since childhood, whether scheming to steal melons from an inattentive vendor, or loosening a wheel on a goat cart. I did not know what he had in mind, but I felt excited and already felt practically like an accomplice.

We came upon Mary, who was standing alone near the water. Her dark hair seemed to glow in the soft twilight. She did not greet us, but instead just stared at Judas, which confirmed my suspicion that she was waiting for us, eager to find out if I had agreed to whatever idea had been presented me. She took Judas' hand as they sat on the sandy bank of the river.

“Dearest Thomas,” Mary began. This was her way of addressing friends, completely in earnest, as she was with everything she said and did. “Jesus is blessed in some way that I have never witnessed before. It's as if the Lord moves through him.” I noticed that she squeezed Judas' hand and shot a quick glance at him. “What Judas and I do, every thought we have, is out of love for Jesus. You must know that.”

“Yes,” I said. My breathing became labored and shallow, as if I were pinned under a great stone.

“You look so worried, Thomas,” Mary said. She smiled and tilted her head as a mother does when wanting to reassure her son that his father will soon return home safely from his journey. “And you often do. This might be the big difference between you and Jesus. He's so serene. Your brow is even a little more furrowed than his.” She rubbed her thumb across my forehead.

Judas tapped his foot as if knocking dust off his sandal. It may have been a signal to Mary to move things along.

“Thomas,” she said, “John is leading Jesus down the wrong path.”

I nearly laughed. They must have rehearsed this all day.

“John's path goes in circles in the desert,” she continued, “or maybe it just leads into this river. Jesus is capable of so much more, Thomas.”

“Get to the point,” I said. I wiped sweat from my eyes.

“We have all learned from John that we must work the Lord's will. That the Lord is leading us toward a great truth. That we must build up our nation's faith in the rightful continuation of our history. But John has no more to teach us. Jesus remains enchanted by him and we must break the spell. We cannot do it without you.”

“Enchanted?” I said. I glanced at Judas. “Enchanted?” I turned back to Mary. “What are you suggesting?” I felt faint. We were not talking this over with Jesus, so I knew they had something severe in mind. Mary had always been forthright, and I was disturbed that she, even though his wife, would be in such collusion with Judas.

Mary took my hands and moved her face close to mine. “Oh, Thomas.” She bent her head and pulled my hands to her mouth. Her breath was warm. “Judas and I have thought very carefully about this. It's the only way.”

I felt sweat beading on my face as if I were standing in the sun. “What?”

“Damn it, Thomas,” Judas said, “John must die.”

I put my hands into my face, rubbed my temples with my thumbs, then raised my head and took a deep breath.

“We will not act without you, Thomas,” said Mary. She put her hands on the sides of my face. “This is not a move to seize power or to form a separatist faction or anything like that. And it is not about John. It's about destiny, Thomas—about the survival of Israel, of our people.”

I felt nauseated, so I stepped to the river to scoop a handful of water. I drank a mouthful and then splashed some on my face. “How will you do this?” I said. “With that dagger?”

“Of course not, Cousin,” Judas said. “The Romans must do it.”

“God on high,” I moaned. “Now we're collaborators.”

“Listen to Judas,” Mary said. She stood and took my hand. “Beloved Thomas, you well know that we must do more than just defy the Romans—we must hate them. If we convince the Romans that John plans an armed revolt, they will surely execute him as they have so many others. Won't that push Jesus to act?”

I pulled my hand from Mary's and turned my back to them. I suppose I had always known that some crucial moment like this would come if I were actually going to be part of an effective movement. I felt as if I were about to step through a door that I could never cross back from. “You haven't mentioned this to anyone else, have you?”

“Only Andrew,” Judas said. “He was hesitant at first, but now he agrees.”

I turned back around to face Judas. “You discussed this with him before you came to me?”

“He's not blood. His eyes and ears are not clouded by kinship. We've grown close to Andrew, haven't we?”

I could not dispute his logic. I had to admit that Jesus lacked the drive, the flame in his breast, which he'd had when we first arrived at John's encampment. He still engaged strangers in debate and convinced them to re-examine their convictions, but when John was around, Jesus seemed content to drift along on John's current of thought.