The Madonna and the Political Prisoner, Chapter 9/2

Chapter 9 (cont'd)

That evening I discover Lazarus is keen to join us also. So next day we set off, travelling as light as we can. It’s nearly a day’s journey to reach the river and as we get near I’m astounded at the size of the crowd streaming towards where John is said to be. I can see a man standing high on a rock overlooking the river and know at once this must be him. The man looks wild. He’s wearing a crude tunic of rough cloth and his hair is tangled and matted. His voice carries and the crowd seems spellbound. We join at the edge of the milling throng and try to hear what he is saying. I catch snatches of his sentences.

He seems to be castigating the rich, telling them to repent and share their clothes, their food with the poor. That message will not go down well with some of the well dressed men I see around me. Then he starts to criticise the Tetrarch and his wife and I hear cheers from men near him. Some of the people near us look a bit smug about this and I see some knowing glances exchanged. He’d better watch his words or he’ll find himself in prison and that’ll be the end of him.

Then he climbs down from the rock and disappears from our view.

“What’s he doing? Where’s he gone?” I ask Joshua.

“He’s baptising those who’ve repented from their wrongdoing.”

“He’s doing what?”

“Those that wish go down into the water and John baptises them – he immerses them in the river. It’s symbolic. It represents the washing away of all their past sins and starting a new life.”

“Do many want to do this?”

“Hundreds. He’ll be doing this from now until sunset.”

“Is everyone so credulous?”

“There is a real renewal of the nation going on. It’s most impressive. Even Pharisees and Sadducees have buried their differences and gone forward together.”

I shake my head in amazement at the gullibility of so many. The crowd is gradually edging forward. Some of the men near us are breaking away and leaving the scene.

“Come with me.” Joshua beckons us to follow him and he leads us downstream along the edge of the crowd to where it is thinning out by the river, which looks quite deep at this point as it narrows between the gaunt sandy cliffs. We find a scree slope beside the water’s edge and can just see figures going down into the river. There’s a long queue of them all waiting to speak to the figure of John and one by one he takes them and lowers them into the turgid water. People between us and the procession of those awaiting baptism by John gradually slip away into the queue or leave quietly after watching for some time and we are able to move nearer although we can’t hear what is being said.

It must have taken us a full hour or more before the crowd has dwindled to a handful of men still waiting their turn. John looks up and catches sight of us. I must admit I’m repelled by the look of him. He’s unkempt, unshaven and badly clothed. I can see now that his garment is just rough camel’s hair, badly cut and ill fitting and he’s wet through as he’s up to his waist in the water. He’s a giant of a man, though. I wouldn’t like to meet him alone on a dark night out here. Goodness knows where he got his physique from. Elizabeth was quite small and I don’t think his father was abnormal – he was just a Temple priest of simple tastes, so I’m told. I’m wondering why we bothered to come out to see such a man – he’s clearly demented as many of those seeking his baptism must be. I never knew so many must have had such guilty consciences. Perhaps his attraction is his raving against the rich. That’s a popular message for the masses though it won’t last if the authorities feel he’s gone too far.

Joshua looks at me. He must see my jaundiced look.

“Don’t prejudge him from his looks,” he says. “Wait until you’ve had a proper conversation with him. We’ve got all evening.”

We wait until John has finished baptising the last man in the crowd. The sun has lost its heat and the man, quite elderly by the look of him, shivers as he steps into the water. I try to catch his words as he whispers to John but I see John just nods before grasping his shoulders and pulling him downwards, his other hand supporting his lower back. I feel sorry for the guy as he shuffles, water dripping from his sodden tunic, but the man suddenly pulls it over his head and retrieves his overgarment where he’s laid it on the bank and draws it over his naked wrinkled body.. I can’t help wondering what sins he’s confessed to John – he’s obviously had plenty of time to commit many, unlike some of the spry youths I noticed in the water earlier.

John doesn’t seem worried by the fact that he’s just as wet. He looks at us again.

“So you must be this man’s brothers?” He grunts, pointing to Joshua. “Come to drag him back home or to see what we are doing?”

Joshua must have told him about us and our reservations at his presence here. John doesn’t seem annoyed though. He just grins at us.

“Come back to my home if I can honour it with such a name. It’s just a cave in the sandstone cliff a bit upstream. It’s only a few minutes’ walk away – I try to keep it hidden from the crowds who come out to see me. If they find it I’ll probably have no peace. However, few are happy to stay here after sunset – they want to get back to Jericho or Bethany before the roads around here are too dangerous to use.”

We follow John along the water’s edge and, as the banks crowd us in, we are forced to remove our sandals and wade through the eddying water as it rushes through the narrows.

“Watch where you are putting your feet. There are a few deep hollows and if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself up to your neck in the muddy water.”

Joshua obviously knows his way well and he turns from time to time to indicate a treacherous spot and help us through. John is striding ahead as the surging water makes no hindrance to his muscular thighs.

We stop after what must be getting on for a full mile and find the entrance to the cave and obvious signs of a fire having been lit there. John immediately sets about making it up with dry wood he’s collected and stored inside the cave and squats beside it rubbing two flints together, patiently waiting until one of the twigs catches fire. Gradually the glow from the fire illuminates the cave for darkness has fallen rapidly during our tramp from the baptism spot. We’ve brought some loaves and wine with us and I offer John a hunk of bread but he refuses politely. Apparently he’s refrained from any food other than what he can gather from the natural world around him. I scour the landscape with my eyes. From what I can see, he’ll have a pretty sparse diet. I knew he didn’t touch alcohol, so I’ve not offered him any wine. While we eat, he uncovers some scraps which look cooked and shrivelled and shovels a couple of handfuls into his mouth.

“What on earth were those?” I ask.

“Insects. I catch a few that hover round the fire. They’re enough. I don’t need more.”

I shudder. They look revolting. “How can you survive on that?”

“From time to time I come across some honeycombs down by the grasses and papyrus that grow beside the river. There’s a stream that feeds into the main flow a few hundred yards further upstream and I find honey regularly there. And I get milk from wild goats that I come across, to supplement water from the stream. Look at me! It hasn’t done me any harm, has it?”

I have to admit the man looks fit. Despite his unkempt appearance, his body is taut and strong, as I can see now since he’s stripped off his hair garment, which is laid by the fire to dry. We all eat. We hold back our curiosity until our hunger has been satisfied. I take a long swig of the sweet sticky wine and wipe my lips.

“Well,” says the fake prophet, “what do you want to ask me? I presume that’s why you’ve come.”

My twin brothers are dumb. I know their curiosity is unbounded but they are strangely silent when they have the opportunity to speak. I’d better hold back lest my obvious scepticism spoils the atmosphere too quickly. It’s Lazarus who ventures the first question.

“How many men did you baptise today? We saw you receiving a queue of people for over an hour.”

“That was the third group today. I don’t count them. I don’t know. Probably between two and three hundred in all.”

“And how long have you been doing it?”

“Lazarus, I really don’t know. I don’t measure the days or seasons.”

Joshua indicates. “I think he’s been out here at least six months, since around the time of the Feast of Tabernacles.”

“That means you must have baptised at least fifty thousand souls,” says Lazarus doing a quick calculation in his head. That’s incredible, that’s as much as the whole population of Jerusalem.”

“Probably not that many. The numbers built up slowly in the beginning until people got to hear of me. Now they come from all over Judea, from Samaria and Galilee, from Perea on the other side of the Jordan. I’ve even had a couple of Roman citizens come to talk to me although getting baptised was beneath their dignity.”

“Why do they come?” My brother Simon has found his voice.

“Out of curiosity mostly. But they stop to hear what I’ve got to say. And my message hits them. They know in their heart of hearts that the state of our nation is rotten. They see the presence of the Romans as a punishment from Jehovah. So they’re ready to admit their guilt when I challenge them.”

“What sins do they confess?”

“Corruption, desecration of the Temple. That building which should be the centre of our worship resembles a market place at times, with fraud and cheating wherever you look. The priests are time servers, inheriting the job from their fathers without conviction. They are complacent. They don’t have to work, they are sustained by the donations of the poor. It’s grossly unjust.”

“Do people actually admit that they are part of the corrupt system?”

“Well, I suppose I’m exaggerating a bit. I see that evil and want to expose and publicise it, so I rejoice when I get one of the Temple crowd or traders to own up to such greed. Most people confess personal things. Family quarrels, cheating, arguments over land. A few men even confess unfaithfulness to their wives or neglect of their children. I found at first that no-one felt guilty about their neglect of the poor, so I’ve been drumming that message home and now most men confess their lack of care for the vulnerable in their villages. Hopefully they go home and do something about it.”

“Aren’t you nervous of arousing opposition? The Temple authorities must have marked you out as a danger to their lifestyle.” I feel it’s time for me to have my say at last.

“So what? I’m not scared of them. What can they do? Come out by night and kill me? If they do they’ll get lynched by the mob back in Jerusalem, who’ll start a riot. The Romans won’t like that, so they’ll be careful. And even if they kill me, the message will go on. This man here will carry it on, won’t you, Joshua?”

“You know I will, John, although not necessarily in the same way as you.”

“I’m only the start. This man is the real prophet. I’ve come to announce his coming, he’ll preach the arrival of the ‘Kingdom of God’. You must know he’s the Messiah we’ve been promised for centuries.”

“John, don’t say these things. I’m not ready yet. They don’t believe, they will shut their ears if you say such things and not listen to the other things you’re saying.”

“If you say so. They’ll have to make up their minds soon. I won’t be out here for ever and your time will come. As James said, the authorities will get me in the end. I’m in no mood for stifling what I think. I’ve got God’s message to proclaim and I can’t keep quiet. I’ll have to get personal soon and there are some people in high places who won’t like that. They’ll probably fake some wild animal has got me like Joseph’s brothers intended before they sold him into slavery.”

“John, don’t you think this Messiah claim is wrong? I’m not accusing you of lying deliberately, but isn’t it just your imagination? Aren’t you and Joshua just victims of what you want to believe?”

“If you don’t believe my words, you’ll soon have to believe your brother’s. He’s got power, I know he has. He could do things now that would amaze you. If he wanted he could do something now to prove it to you. He could render you speechless, dumb. He could make you lose your sight or the use of your legs and then restore them to you. Why don’t you, Joshua? He’d believe you if you did that. He wouldn’t be such a thorn in your side then.”

“No John. I’ll not persuade him that way. Any powers I have must be for the good of those who are suffering or in trouble, not for demonstration purposes even if my brother is tempting me!”

“See, he won’t accept your challenge. He knows he has no special powers. You’re just making it up.”

Lazarus wants to change the subject. He doesn’t want Joshua and me to clash openly.

“Is this what the Essenes do, John? Do they baptise?”

“Yes, it’s part of their induction process. Before acceptance into their community you are immersed totally in one of their ritual baths. It denotes that you are then pure enough to start a new spiritual life in their community, set aside from the temptations of the world.”

“But you’ve left that community. Did you fall out with them?”

“No, but your brother persuaded me that I’d change little by remaining cut off in the desert. So I compromised. I go out and preach and challenge men to change their ways, but they have to come to me. I stay in the desert, my home territory. I’ll not profane myself by entering their contaminated cities.”

“Did they accept your decision?”

“Not easily. They reminded me of my vows and said that I’d be tempted to revoke the good they’d instilled in me and become tempted by the devil. They take a dim view of the resilience of the human spirit. They send messengers to me occasionally to see if I’ve fallen into the trap they forecast and seek my return to their community by retaking my vows and being ritually purged, but I think now that I’m so well known, they’ve given up on me.”

“Do you still believe their message even if you’ve moved on from their practices?”

It’s Lazarus again who now challenges John. But it’s Joshua who answers before John can reply.

“We don’t agree on everything. There are some Essene practices that John is faithful to, which I would question.”

“Such as?” This could be interesting, I muse. Can I open up a rift between them, can I yet reclaim Joshua for our family?

“The Essene community is male. They do not marry or they renounce their wives when they join. They will not baptise women. John doesn’t either. I’m puzzled. Don’t women need repentance? Do they never sin? Does not God want their allegiance? In my family it seems to be the women who understand things – my mother, Eli’s daughter Susannah, my sisters Salome and Ruth.”

“That just proves my point. They’re too credulous. They’ll believe anything. We men are more down to earth, we understand more of the world.”

“So why are all those who come for baptism by John male? Are they all as naive as women, as you allege? You can’t have it both ways.”

“What do you think, John? You haven’t said anything.” I’m keen that John should say something that challenges Joshua’s view.

“I do what I’ve learned at Ein-Gedi. We’ve withdrawn from female company to avoid temptation and concentrate on our service to God and honouring his commandments. If the men repent and act justly, their women will follow. The men will ensure the morality of the whole family.”

“John and I beg to differ on this point. God created all equal. Women are just as capable of greatness or evil as any man. Look at some of our ancestors. Queen Esther, Judith – or on the other side of the coin, those icons of wickedness, Jezebel or Delilah. And we underestimate the capacity of children as well. My mother says that her main support during her controversial pregnancy were her siblings, our aunts, Salome and Rebecca and her younger brother Benjamin. When all around were condemning her, failing to listen or understand, those children knew intuitively that she was right. They knew when to trust. They are good judges of character, they can discern the genuine and the fake.”

“We’ve argued over this lots of times. I’ve spent too long with the Essenes to change my mind. I respect Joshua’s view. He’ll bring many new insights to us I’m sure. He thinks I should recruit some female followers. But it’s hardly practicable out here, is it?”

“You have followers, disciples of your way of life?”

Lazarus is curious as we’ve not seen any obvious men who could fit this description.

“Yes, I’ve colleagues, but they’re in the city at the moment. They’re letting people know where to find me. They’re encouraging the people to seek a better way of life by coming out and turning their back on their former sinful ways. They sometimes help me by controlling the crowds seeking baptism. Without them, especially at festival times, the crowd would surge and push us all into the water. That’s no job for a woman.”

“To which my answer is, come out of the desert and mingle with the people. Go where the ordinary people are. Let them see you are sensitive to the needs and desires of women and children as well as men.”

“I think that’s something you may do, Joshua. It’s a big enough challenge to get so many to repent of their deeds and pledge to a new and moral life. I’m clearing the way, removing the things that hinder the minds of these people. You will come with the positive messages, new insights, new teaching, the fundamentals of the Kingdom of God. All I can say is that it is coming. Be ready for it. You’ll bring it.”

This conversation is getting out of hand. I can see Lazarus is getting quite interested in the way the exchange of views is flowing. Even Simon and Judas look attentive and don’t seem to want to question them.

The fire is burning low. John announces his intention to rest shortly as he arises before dawn to collect honey and to look for wild goats to milk. He says the first visitors from the city will arrive shortly after sunrise and he has to be ready to engage them in conversation, and there will be a big enough crowd within a further hour to require him to get up on the rock and preach to the first would-be baptismal applicants. Joshua too leaves us.

“I need to be alone and think over the day’s events,” he explains. “This is a good time to pray, because it is so quiet. It is possible to hear God’s voice in the stillness.”

So he’s hearing voices now, is he? I knew he was mad. The pair of them are, but I keep it to myself. The remaining four of us sit for a while as the embers blacken and die. I thought we should maintain the fire to keep animals away but John said he has to gather the scarce firewood in the morning. Sometimes the river brings down branches after a storm or flood further up river.

“Don’t worry,” he’d said, “animals don’t bother us. God’s entrusted us with a message for Israel. He won’t throw it to the winds by allowing us to be killed by his beasts.”

“That’s no guarantee of safety for us,” I’d reposted. We’ve no magic message and therefore no automatic divine protection.”

“You’ll be alright,” he’d replied. “I know you will.”

I just wish I had his confidence.

* * * * * *

I didn’t sleep very well. I could hear John snoring loudly in the cave almost as soon as he’d left us. Joshua came back a long time afterwards and I was still awake. I watched his silhouette against the stars, but he did not stop. I think my twin brothers were restless too, though I’m sure Lazarus, like John, was soon dead to the world.

Perhaps I was dozing when I heard movement and became aware that John was leaving the cave. He’d pulled on his rough hair garment. I guess it was still damp, though the heat of the sun will soon dry it before he’s back in the water. It’s a wonder he doesn’t succumb to a fever as he never seems to be dry.

I’d intended to spend a full day and a further night watching John and putting pressure on Joshua to come home. I quickly realised that we’d not learn an awful lot more than we’d gleaned already and I was certainly not looking forward to another night in such primitive conditions. We’d listen to his first morning sermon, I thought, then as the baptisms started we’d take our leave and get back to Lazarus’ sisters in time to pack ready for going home the next day and catch up on our sleep. I couldn’t see any point in staying all day on the off chance that Joshua would change his mind.

Joshua stirs shortly after John has left the cave and he too makes to leave and walk out into the empty dawn. Going to pray again is my guess – I prefer to get my praying done by the priests. At least they should get the words right. Despite prayers being learned by rote and repeated ad nauseam in the synagogue in my youth, I can never remember the words from even the best known psalms. Joshua notices that I’m awake and beckons to me to join him.

“I don’t want to pray. I’m not a fanatic like you.”

“Don’t worry. We can just talk.”

So I accompany him along the river a little way and then turn alongside the tiny stream as it flashes sparks of light reflecting the sun’s orb behind us in the east over the low hills above the far river bank. We don’t speak at first as the water gurgles through the rocks, then reduces to a trickle as its source disappears under an overhanging clod of earth. Joshua sits on the barren ground. I pull my cloak around me to ward off the chill I feel.

“You know I’m staying, don’t you. My time is coming now. I have to think through what is in store for me. I need to get away from everyone, even John. I know you don’t believe it, but I have power, James. It frightens me sometimes. I’ve been tempted so often to intervene, to use the power I have for my own ends. But I must use it wisely. You were joking at Susannah’s wedding that I could turn water into wine. I know you were being sarcastic, but if it had been essential for God’s will to be done, I could have. But it’s not what I’m about. I could persuade the people by the use of magic, but that would be to abuse the power I sense within me. I have to use it for others, to be drained and used up for the poor, the oppressed, the vulnerable.”

“That’s a pretty speech. I still think you’re being selfish. Or, the best I can think is that you’re delusioned. Do you actually think you’re the Messiah that Israel’s been promised for centuries? Do you really, in all honesty, think so?”

“Do you believe I’m the Messiah, James? Do you believe it?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sorry, James. Our ways will part. You’ve been honest with me. Take my love to my mother and sisters and all who care for me back in Nazareth.”

I think to say more, to argue, to remonstrate. But it would be useless. The man will regret his decision. He’ll learn he’s wrong one day. The mission he thinks he’s got will fizzle out in failure before it’s even begun. What’s the point of saying any more? I can tell Mother I’ve seen him and he is well, though out of his mind. I’ve done what she asked me to do. Time to go home.