“Mary, do we have so many children?” said Jesus, laughing. “Martha, the yard is full. We’ve either got to enlarge the house or stop giving birth.”
“We’ll enlarge the house,” answered Martha.
“They’re almost ready to climb the walls and trees of the yard like field mice and squirrels. We’ve declared war on death, Mary. Blessed be the organs of women. They are full of eggs, like those of fish, and each egg is a man. Death will not overcome us.”
“No, death will not overcome us, Beloved. You just take care of yourself and stay well,” Mary replied.
Jesus was in a good mood and wanted to tease her. Besides, Mary pleased him very much this morning, only half awake as she was, and standing before him combing her hair.
“Mary,” he said, “don’t you ever think about death, don’t you seek God’s mercy, don’t you worry what will become of you in the next world?”
Mary shook her long hair and laughed. “Those are a man’s concerns,” she said. “No, I don’t seek God’s mercy. I’m a woman; I seek mercy from my husband. And I don’t knock at God’s door either, asking like a beggar for the eternal joys of Paradise. I hug the man I love and have no desire for any other Paradise. Let’s leave the eternal joys to the men!”
“The eternal joys to the men?” said Jesus, caressing her bare shoulder. “Beloved wife, the earth is a narrow threshing floor. How can you lock yourself up in that space and not want to escape?”
“A woman is happy only inside boundaries. You know that, Rabbi. A woman is a reservoir, not a spring.”
Martha entered at a run. “Someone’s looking for our house,” she said. “Short and fat, hunchbacked, with a head as bald as an egg. He’s tripping all over his crooked pegs and will be here in a minute.”
The Negro also rushed in, panting. “I don’t like his looks; I’m going to shut the door in his face. He’s another one who’ll turn everything upside down.”
Jesus eyed the boy fiercely. “What are you afraid of?” he asked. “Who is he that you should fear him? Open the door!”
The Negro winked at him. “Chase him away!” he said to him softly.
“Why? Who is he?”
“Chase him away,” the Negro repeated, “and don’t ask any questions.”
Jesus became angry. “Am I not free? Can’t I do what I please? Open the door.”
By this time feet were heard in the road. They halted, and there was a knock at the door.
“Who’s there?” Jesus asked, running into the yard.
A high, cracked voice replied, “One sent by God. Open!”
The door opened. A squat, fat hunchback, still young, but bald, stood on the threshold. His eyes were spitting fire. The two women, who had run to see him, recoiled.
“Rejoice and exult, brothers,” said the visitor, opening wide his arms. “I bring you the Good News!”
Jesus looked at him, struggling to remember where he had seen him. Cold shivers ran up and down his spine. “Who are you? I think I’ve met you somewhere. At Caiaphas’s palace? At a crucifixion?”
Sneering, the young Negro, who was rolled up in one of the corners of the yard, said, “It’s Saul, bloodthirsty Saul!”
“Are you Saul?” Jesus asked, horrified.
“I was, but I’m not bloodthirsty Saul any more. I’ve seen the true light; I am Paul. I was saved-glory be to God!-and now I’ve set out to save the world. Not Judea, not Palestine, but the whole world! The Good News I carry needs oceans and distant cities: spaciousness. Don’t shake your head, Master Lazarus; don’t laugh, don’t mock. Yes, I shall save the world!”
“My fine lad,” Jesus replied, “I’ve already come back from where you’re headed. I remember that when I was young like you, I too set out to save the world. Isn’t that what being young means-to want to save the world? I went around barefooted, in rags, girded with a strap which was full of nails, like the ancient prophets. I shouted, ‘Love! Love!’ and a lot more I no longer wish to remember. They pelted me with lemon peels, they beat me, and I was a hair’s breadth from crucifixion. My fine lad, the same will happen to you!”
He had gathered momentum. Forgetting his role as Master Lazarus, he was revealing his secret to a stranger.
The terrified Negro came between them to detour the conversation. “Don’t talk to him, Master. I have something to ask him; let me speak with him.”
He turned to the stranger. “Isn’t it you, hell-fiend, who most unjustly murdered Mary Magdalene? Your hands are dripping with blood. Get out of our respectable yard!”
“You? You?” said Jesus, shuddering.
“Yes, me,” Paul answered with a deep sigh. “I beat my breast, tear my clothes and cry, ‘I have sinned! I have sinned!’ I received letters with instructions to kill anyone who violated the Law of Moses. I had killed everyone I could and was returning to Damascus when suddenly a flash of lightning shot out of the sky and threw me to the ground. The great brilliance blinded me: I saw nothing. But I heard a reproachful voice above my head, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you pursue me? What have I done to you?’
“ ‘Who are you, Lord,’ I cried.
“ ‘I am Jesus whom you pursue. Arise, go into Damascus, and there my faithful will tell you what you must do.’ I jumped up, trembling. My eyes were open, but I saw nothing. My companions took me by the hand and brought me into Damascus. And one of Jesus’ disciples, Ananias-God bless him-came to the cottage where I was lodging. He placed his hand on my head and prayed: ‘Christ, give him his sight so that he may travel over the whole world and proclaim the Gospel!’ As he spoke, the scales fell from my eyes. I received my sight and was baptized. I was baptized; I became Paul, the apostle to the Nations. I preach-on land, on sea-I preach the Good News… Why do you look at me like that, your eyes popping out of your head? Master Lazarus, why have you got up in such a tumult?”
His fists clenched, and frothing at the mouth, Jesus paced the yard. He saw the pale women standing in the corner; he saw the children screaming and clutching their mothers. “Go inside,” he ordered them. “Leave us alone!” The overwrought Negro came up to speak to him, but he pushed him angrily aside. “Am I not free?” he said. “I’ve stood enough; I’m going to speak!”
He turned to Paul. “What Good News?” he bellowed with trembling voice.
“Jesus of Nazareth-you must have heard of him-was not the son of Joseph and Mary; he was the son of God. He came down to earth and took on human flesh in order to save mankind. The wicked priests and Pharisees seized him, brought him to Pilate and crucified him. But on the third day he rose from the dead and ascended to heaven. Death was conquered, brothers, sins were forgiven, the Gates of Heaven opened up!”
“Did you see this resurrected Jesus of Nazareth?” Jesus bellowed. “Did you see him with your own eyes? What was he like?”
“A flash of lightning-a flash of lightning which spoke.”
“Liar!”
“His disciples saw him. They were gathered together after the crucifixion in an attic, and the doors were shut. Suddenly he came and stood in their midst and said to them, ‘Peace be unto you!’ They all saw him and were dazzled, but Thomas was not convinced. He placed his finger inside his wounds and gave him some fish, which he ate.”
“Liar!”
But Paul had worked up steam. His eyes flashed; his crooked body had stretched itself up straight. “He wasn’t born of a man: his mother was a virgin. The angel Gabriel descended from heaven, said, ‘Hail, Mary,’ and the Word fell like seed into her womb. That’s how he was born.”
“Liar! Liar!”
Astonished, Paul remained immobile. The Negro rose and bolted the door. The neighbors, hearing the cries, had half opened their doors and cocked their ears. The two frightened wives had reappeared in the yard, but the Negro had penned them up again inside. Jesus was swelling with rage; he could no longer calm his heart. Approaching Paul, he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently.