Jesus raised a hand. ‘Listen, you do not need to die to see who I am. I tell you, that if you become like children in your hearts, if you let go of your doubt, some of you shall know me, even before natural death itself!’
The others did not know his meaning, and they talked amongst themselves trying to fathom the depths of these words. John, however, was filled with a sudden peacefulness. He considered what it would be like, to be one of those who could see the Son of God. How this might come about he could not presage, but even so his soul was full of hope that he might one day be among them. In this mood he surrendered himself to his master and to God, and soon fell asleep.
49
TRANSFIGURATION
It was night. All were asleep except for Christ in Jesus. He sat upon the mountain of stillness while the soul of humanity, the out-breath of villages and cities and towns and countries of the world lifted upwards, wafting towards the tangled stars.
Below the world breathed in its orchards and sandy wastes, its oceans and cobbled streets and trembling deserts and verdant forests, and while men slept the world awakened from its daily dream and turned its mind to inner activities. He could feel its soul stir beneath him; he could hear its heartbeat quiver and he could smell its breath in the sweet scents borne on the breezes.
Since he had come into Jesus, he had grown accustomed to the increasing burden of the man’s heart, to the organs speaking to him of pain and suffering, to the solidity under those feet, to the weight of that body, and to the sharp thoughts that pricked at his spirit. Now, the world no longer clawed at his senses or pierced into him like daggers. Outwardly, he was composed and quiet and sometimes he was that man of Nazareth whom all knew and spoke to; he was the man who seemed simple and kind and laughed at the childish ways of his disciples; the man who gave his friends riddles to solve and who sometimes listened politely to the insults of the rabbis and the doubts of the people. He was one with that man Jesus, yet inwardly, he was also a god, an exalted being who had come down from beyond the stars to be poured out into an earthly mould, a god with a task that was never far from his mind.
To ponder it, he would take himself away from men, away from their questions, away from their grasping, their lack of understanding, and their stubborn ways. And he would receive solace then, not only for his spirit, but for his body also, since at the same time that his spirit communed with his Father in heaven, his body was rejuvenated by the angels on earth, as all human bodies are rejuvenated in sleep, and he was happy for it, while it lasted. But he knew that his body was unlike other human bodies. In the past men had been overshone by those angels and gods who had inspired them, but no God had ever entered into the blood and bones of a man, no God had ever died an earthly death – but this was his task – and he did not know if the body of Jesus would be capable of withstanding the immense power of his spirit to the very end, or if it would be torn asunder prematurely before the performance of his duty.
Even now, things were altering. He could sense it. The deeper he entered into flesh and bones, the more those abilities that had so impressed the people until now, began to fade, and he knew that a time was close by, when his body would be seen outwardly as old, and wasted, and incapable of producing miracles of any kind, and he would be mocked as powerless and feeble. Would his chosen ones remain faithful to him then? Would Simon-Peter with his stubborn ways, and Andrew, with his deaf ears, and James, with his melancholic doubts, and John, with his insecurities, remain steadfast? He did not know. He did not know, if they understood that it was not his task to come as a great king, to wield power and to lead peoples, but to become ever more powerless.
The breathing of his men was woven into the night and became one with the chaotic thoughts, the despair of every human heart – the mute, expressionless longing of a multitude of human souls. Christ in Jesus breathed in the dreamers of Israel, the dreamers of Samaria and Syria and Greece and Rome. He breathed in the world and its desires and hopes and fears and he breathed out solace, comfort and consolation. Even so, on setting aside their blankets in the morning, by small degrees, men’s eyes would return to their blindness, and their ears to their deafness. They would forget that he had been with them, when in their beds they shook with fear or humiliation, or raged with hatred, or cried with sorrow into their pillows.
He looked to his disciples, wrapped in their dreams. When their wills were set free by sleep, he taught them. To one he gave this teaching, and to the other that, but in the waking day their minds fettered them, and they were prevented from remembering. Only three of the twelve had recognised him in the day enough to awaken to his splendour in the night, these were John, Peter and James.