“Be a loving son unto this woman. Go to her house and let your shadow cross the threshold where I once stood. Do this in remembrance of me.”
And Mary raised her right hand towards Him, and she was like a tree with one branch. And again she cried: “My son, who is not my son, if this be of God may God give us patience and the knowledge thereof. And if it be of man may God forgive him forevermore.
“If it be of God, the snow of Lebanon shall be your shroud; and if it be only of the priests and soldiers, then I have this garment for your nakedness.
“My son, who is not my son, that which God builds here shall not perish; and that which man would destroy shall remain builded, but not in his sight.”
And at that moment the heavens yielded Him to the earth, a cry and a breath.
And Mary yielded Him also unto man, a wound and a balsam.
And Mary said: “Now behold, He is gone. The battle is over. The star has shone forth. The ship has reached the harbour. He who once lay against my heart is throbbing in space.”
And we came close to her, and she said to us: “Even in death He smiles. He has conquered. I would indeed be the mother of a conqueror.”
And Mary returned to Jerusalem leaning upon John the young disciple.
And she was a woman fulfilled.
And when we reached the gate of the city, I gazed upon her face and I was astonished, for on that day the head of Jesus was the highest among men, and yet Mary’s head was not less high.
All this came to pass in the spring of the year.
And now it is autumn. And Mary the mother of Jesus has come again to her dwelling-place, and she is alone.
Two Sabbaths ago my heart was as a stone in my breast, for my son had left me for a ship in Tyre. He would be a sailor.
And he said he would return no more.
And upon an evening I sought Mary.
When I entered her house she was sitting at her loom, but she was not weaving. She was looking into the sky beyond Nazareth.
And I said to her: “Hail, Mary.”
And she stretched out her arm to me, and said: “Come and sit beside me, and let us watch the sun pour its blood upon the hills.”
And I sat beside her on the bench and we gazed into the west through the window.
And after a moment Mary said: “I wonder who is crucifying the sun this eventide.”
Then I said: “I came to you for comfort. My son has left me for the sea and I am alone in the house across the way.”
Then Mary said: “I would comfort you, but how shall I?”
And I said: “If you will only speak of your son I shall be comforted.”
And Mary smiled upon me, and she laid her hand about my shoulder and she said: “I will speak of Him. That which will console you will give me consolation.”
Then she spoke of Jesus, and she spoke long of all that was in the beginning.
And it seemed to me that in her speech she would have no difference between her son and mine.
For she said to me: “My son is also a seafarer. Why would you not trust your son to the waves even as I have trusted Him?
“Woman shall be forever the womb and the cradle but never the tomb. We die that we may give life unto life even as our fingers spin the thread for the raiment that we shall never wear.
“And we cast the net for the fish that we shall never taste.
“And for this we sorrow, yet in all this is our joy.”
Thus spoke Mary to me.
And I left her and came to my house, and though the light of the day was spent I sat at my loom to weave more of the cloth.
Joseph Surnamed Justus
They say he was vulgar, the common offspring of common seed, a man uncouth and violent.
They say that only the wind combed His hair, and only the rain brought His clothes and His body together.
They deem Him mad, and they attribute His words to demons.
Yet behold, the Man despised sounded a challenge and the sound thereof shall never cease.
He sang a song and none shall arrest that melody. It shall hover from generation to generation and it shall rise from sphere to sphere remembering the lips that gave it birth and the ears that cradled it.
He was a stranger. Aye, He was a stranger, a wayfarer on His way to a shrine, a visitor who knocked at our door, a guest from a far country.
And because He found not a gracious host, He has returned to His own place.
Philip
When our Belovèd died, all mankind died and all things for a space were still and grey. Then the east was darkened, and a tempest rushed out of it and swept the land. The eyes of the sky opened and shut, and the rain came down in torrents and carried away the blood that streamed from His hands and His feet.
I too died. But in the depth of my oblivion I heard Him speak and say: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
And His voice sought my drownèd spirit and I was brought back to the shore.
And I opened my eyes and I saw His white body hanging against the cloud, and His words that I had heard took the shape within me and became a new man. And I sorrowed no more.
Who would sorrow for a sea that is unveiling its face, or for a mountain that laughs in the sun?
Was it ever in the heart of man, when that heart was pierced, to say such words?
What other judge of men has released His judges? And did ever love challenge hate with
