Fifth Gospel(27)
He turned to go, and Gamaliel stood, for he realised, despite his anger and hurt that he was losing his friend. ‘Our paths may be different ones,’ he called after him, ‘I grant you that, Jesus! But must our friendship be over? I would like it to be renewed one day…if by then you still love your teacher.’
Jesus paused, and his voice was gentle over his shoulder when he said, ‘I do love you, rabbi, but I love truth more.’
With that he was gone, leaving the young rabbi looking after him, dazzled and puzzled, full of wonder and woe and confusion, as if he had seen the sun at midnight, or the stars poking out of a midday sky. What should he think of such strange and shocking words, spoken so mightily by the young Jesus of Nazareth? If they were true then all his life, which had so far come to pass, and even that which was yet to come, had been, and would be, founded on an untruth, on a falsehood. Such a thought could have made Gamaliel sink to his knees had the marble floor not been taken from under him!
He consoled himself, with the thought that Jesus might be of the lineage of David and a fine student, but in the final analysis, he was only a youth full of notions. He was not a teacher or a prophet – he was not a priest or a king. Still, such words, such words…
This uneasiness lingered in Gamaliel’s heart for many years before he would understand it. In that far off time he would be standing upon the same spot, but he would not be puzzling over the student full of despair who was walking away into the spring afternoon, he would be marvelling in recognition of a man who was not a student, or a teacher, not a prophet, a king or a priest, but the hope of all Jews and the consolation of all Israel.
12
SALOME
The house was clean swept, the bread was made, the lamps were filled and burning, the bowls were laid out for the modest repast that simmered aromatically in the hearth and Salome, having a rare moment to herself, went out of the house to watch the sun sink into its bed.
From behind her came the comforting sounds of the young men washing for the evening meal, the bustling of Mariam and her daughters, and Mariam’s sister-in law, the wife of Joseph’s brother, Cleophas. But for now, Salome was alone with the long view of the hills and dales of Galilee and the stars poking out of the sky, speaking their silent language, one to the other. And she was so taken by this celestial spectacle of twilight that she did not hear Jesus come to the low stonewall and sit beside her.
So well known to her was the sound of his voice that Salome did not flinch or jump or feel startled when he said, ‘You are gazing at the kingdom of heaven, Salome. Do you feel it descending into your heart?’
Salome’s name meant peace and it was peace she felt when she looked to her favourite – the reason why she had followed her beloved Mary, who was now dead, to Nazareth those many years before. She put a hand to his face and he did not mind it for she had long been his nurse and that hand, once so malformed, had nurtured him through illness and health and raised him through the various stages of his youth.
She narrowed her eyes to look at him and made her voice practical, ‘You like to see into the hearts of others, Jesus, which is a fine gift…but you hold your own thoughts close to you…so that even I cannot see them.’
He acknowledged this with a nod of the head. ‘Yes and it is a strange thing to me also, Salome. Strange and yet familiar! When I am working with my father and my hands are busy,’ he looked at them, ‘I feel like I am one man: I think I know who that man is, this son of a carpenter…but when I am with myself, when I gaze at my thoughts, I find that I am a different man. I find myself full of memories of things that I have not seen or heard or felt! I am a stranger…even to myself.’
Salome had a gift of second sight which ran in all the women of her family, and so years ago, after the death of Yeshua, she had seen the reason for the change in him, which even Jesus himself did not seem to understand. She had waited for him to find a quiet space in which to speak with her.
‘You are full of restlessness Jesus, I sense it, and I also sense that you will soon leave because of it…the question is, where will you go?’
Jesus looked at her with surprise. ‘Well…you have surely read my mind! As you know, this village is small and has never supported us. And father is too unwell to travel in search of work…so I am of the mind to go alone this year.’
Salome passed a hand over her face. ‘You see? I had guessed it! Promise me you won’t venture outside the land, where my forefathers once dwelt…you know that in those places you will find only darkness. Even the dust under your feet will be unclean on your return and all will think you defiled. The dirt of those places is like death and putrid things to a Jew. Will you seek to bring death home, so that men will have no traffic with you?’ She looked at him, to make sure he had taken it in and he matched her gaze with his own steady eyes.