During his stays, when he was not being taught at the academy, Jesus would go for long walks on his own. Gamaliel knew this because the boy would later take him to the lower city, or else to those places outside the city walls to show him what he had found: the poor and the wretched, the beggars, the lepers and the insane. Afterwards he would ask Gamaliel, in the cool and quiet of the Temple court:
‘What do the priests and scholars and scribes do for those poor souls, rabbi? What good are all their sacrifices and hymns and rituals, all their learning and commentary, all their scrolls and parchments and laws – if they do nothing for the suffering of their people?’
The sadness and anguish in Jesus’ voice seemed to go deep into his heart, and Gamaliel could think of nothing to ease this pain or to answer the questions that plagued him. In truth, Gamaliel soon realised that he could teach Jesus nothing more, for the young man’s soul seemed to be nourished from a source far beyond Gamaliel’s comprehension; a secret fount of wisdom, which Gamaliel could kindle, but to which he had no access.
Now, as Gamaliel and Jesus sat together on the terrace of the Temple court, he observed the sky, milk-blue and cloudless with only a hint of spring in the air, and he was certain that the time for the youth’s final leave-taking was at hand. He felt such a sadness for it that he resolved to ask Jesus if he would like to remain at the Temple permanently and be proven worthy of an elevated position. Prudently, he broached the question by asking Jesus how he passed his time in Nazareth, when he was far from the Temple and his teachings.
‘I work with my father,’ he answered, simply.
Gamaliel nodded with a knowing smile, ‘All work is profitable, Jesus, but do you think such work is worthy of your understandings and talents?’
Jesus looked at him with a bland eye. ‘You have taught me many things, rabbi, but my father also teaches me.’
‘Of course he does. Can you tell me then, what have you found to be the most important teaching of all?’
A long time passed in quiet but Gamaliel was patient, sensing the birth of a new intimacy. Would he finally know what truly lived in the soul of this remarkable youth?
When Jesus spoke, however, his voice was different, weighty and burdened, so that even his face seemed cast in darker tones.
‘I have learnt that whatever is made by a man will one day turn to dust, like the tables my father builds; that all that begins in the world must have an end. But I also know that there exists something that has no beginning, and no end.’
‘What is that, Jesus?’
‘Truth, master Gamaliel. That is what lies behind all that is made. And it does not change from person to person, from aeon to aeon, but lives above all things and exists even before a man can know it…this truth belongs only to God.’
Gamaliel was pleased. ‘And what is man, among these truths?’
‘Man is truth and falsehood combined. In a man’s heart there is wisdom, which is his feminine part, and in his head there is the possibility of intelligence, which is the masculine; to bring both together in the body and the soul, is to birth the spirit in a man.’
Gamaliel was astounded at the wholeness of his answer. It made sense of that Hermetic riddle, which had plagued him since his time with the Therapeutae: the riddle of a stone that is no stone at all but is derived from three and two and one. Now Gamaliel knew what it was!
Body, soul and spirit; male and female; in one human being!
His heart soared with enthusiasm! How simple and graceful! How elegant it was! He sat forward, stumbling over his words, asking in an excited fashion if Jesus would remain in his academy, telling him of the many things they could explore together, and the possibility of his advancement. Forgetting he was a rabbi, he laughed with joy and let all his feelings come out. But when he was finished he noticed that Jesus had said nothing, and that his head was bent downwards. He admonished himself then, for being too hasty, too forward, too brash and forceful, and wondered if he had trampled on the sapling in search of the water jug.
‘I thank you,’ Jesus said, raising his head again, ‘but I will not stay, I must leave here and go in search of knowledge.’
Gamaliel’s heart sank. Perhaps he had not known how much he loved his friend until that very moment. ‘Leave here? But Jesus, the Sanhedrin is the greatest centre of knowledge in the world!’
‘That may be…but it does not expound the knowledge I seek.’
‘What knowledge are you after?’
‘Forgive me, master Gamaliel,’ he said, looking at him. ‘but you have always told me to be frank with you and so I will be frank. I will tell you that your logic and codes are fine and beautiful, your laws and regulations shimmer and glitter, and yet…they die away to nothing in my ears. They die away because behind them there is no experience. They are,’ he searched for the words a moment, ‘only shadows of the truth…forgeries.’