Jesus stood.
‘Wait!’ John moved to stop him. ‘What do you mean…God is waiting for me to fulfil Elijah’s task?’
‘That is not for me to say…’ Jesus answered, ‘that is something between you and your angel.’
Jesus left then and John remained, pondering these words.
By the time afternoon had gathered up the day to its bosom, John had gathered up his things to return to the seclusion of his cave to ask the question.
‘How must I fulfil Elijah’s task?’
There he sat, over twelve days and nights, until his longing for understanding had reached a feverish pitch and his devotion was poured out towards the planets and stars. Now in the darkness he heard a mysterious tone – louder, gentler, louder again, resounding harmoniously in the night. He saw his soul as a dark disc around which bloomed an effulgence of light. Ring upon ring of rainbow colours appeared to form a radiant iris around it. The colours gathered in strength and began to eclipse the darkness, revealing the violet-red orb of his inner sun.
This sun spoke thus:
‘John! Come closer, straighten you ears, lean them on my heart and listen. Yes…I am your angel, before I was your angel I was the angel of Buddha, but he no longer needs me since he is now transfigured so I am come to you, to tell you how you must fulfil Elijah’s task. Come, my dishevelled one…you must prepare the way for the Being of the Sun who descends to the earth. You must make the path straight for his descent. Go forth and preach the gospel of repentance. It will be like Buddha’s Sermon at Benares, for I will inspire you! You will tell all men that the ‘kingdom’ of God is at hand. Then you will plunge their dirty souls into water, to loosen them from their bodies and cause them to see that they belong not only to bones and flesh, but also to the spirit. That is how they will be reborn, in the water of life, like fish.’
‘Will I also baptise the coming one?’
‘Yes…but the Son of God is only once born! That is the secret.’
‘Oh angel!’ John anguished, leaning on that angelic being with all his might. ‘Tell me, how shall I know Him when he comes?’
‘Leave that to me! I will prise open your eyes and you will see the spirit descend. Then you will be a witness that He is the Son of God. For you are the last of the prophets…my little baptiser…and the constellation from which you have seen the sun at midnight shall remain a memory of your deed and be known forever as Aquarius.
Men will call it the region of The Waterman.’
18
BROTHERS
Yeshua’s brother Jacob was a Nazarite. After his brother’s death he had left his home and offered himself to the elders and they had welcomed him because they had hoped that one day he might take his brother’s place as the Messiah’s chosen instrument. This, however, could only be known with certainty on his thirtieth year. Until then, he was expected to enter into the strictest branch of the order of Nazarites and become an Essene.
Over the years he passed every trial and all was well, but when time came for him to ascend to the highest grade – that grade which leads the son of darkness towards ‘enlightenment’, he failed, and the elders were forced to turn him away from the sanctuary doors at Engaddi. He could remain in the outer circle and live his life in the Essene communities, but he would never partake of the ceremonial meals with the elders.
When he left Engaddi, he did not return to Nazareth, but instead journeyed through the land; a man without a reason to sustain him, like a bird without a sky.
The world was a tense, dangerous place, everywhere prophets shook their fists at the heavens, the Sicarri plotted against the Romans, and the Romans taxed the people, crucified them and caused blood to flow through the streets. The Levites, priests and rabbis were powerless and watched from their high places as if the trials of their people were none of their business. In the meantime, every faithful Jew waited for the Redeemer of Israel to come.
The sun pressed its fingers into Jacob’s head and told him of the suffering and anguish of his people and he shouted back to it:
If I was meant to take Yeshua’s place, why did you let me fail?
Yeshua would not have failed. In Yeshua’s eyes there had always lived the seal of his ministry; the testament of his kingship had always throbbed in his heart. Did Jacob recognise such a kingship in his own mind, such a ministry in his own heart?
He did not know.
To think on Yeshua was to recall a resentment, which had long ago settled into the soil of his soul for the son of the carpenter, Jesus, the addled shepherd who could only play the flute and stare at the clouds. His brother’s affection had been reserved for Jesus alone and after his death, Jacob’s resentment had combined with his grief and had grown in him a suspicious, childish obsession, and it was this: