And to them he said:
Awaken! And behold 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,
Piety 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 despaired, 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.
50
THE RICH YOUTH
The 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 wished 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!
In 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.