would not know what to say if we were to ask them how they would behave outside the privacy of these four walls, where they have been free for some days to forge a world in the simple image and likeness of a man and a woman. A world that is more hers than his, let it be said, but since they are both so confident about meeting again, we need only have the patience to wait for the time when, side by side, they will confront the outside world, where people are already asking themselves anxiously, What's going on in there, and they don't mean the usual antics in the bedroom. After they had eaten, Mary helped Jesus into his sandals and told him, You must leave if you're to reach Nazareth before nightfall. Farewell, said Jesus, and taking up his pack and staff, he went out into the yard. The sky was covered with clouds as if lined with unwashed wool, the Lord must not be finding it easy today to keep an eye on His sheep from on high. Jesus and Mary Magdalene embraced a long time before exchanging a farewell kiss, which did not take long at all, and little wonder, for kissing was not the custom then.
...
THE SUN HAD JUST SET WHEN JESUS ARRIVED IN NAZARETH, four long years, give or take a week, from the day he left, a mere child driven by desperation to go out into the world in search of someone who might help him understand the unbearable truth about his birth. Four years, however long, may not be enough to heal one's sorrow, but they should bring some relief. He had asked questions in the Temple, traveled mountain paths with the devil's flock, met God, and slept with Mary Magdalene. Reaching Nazareth, he no longer gives the appearance of suffering, except for those tears in his eyes, but that could also be a delayed reaction to the smoke from the sacrifices, or sudden joy in his soul upon looking down at the town from a high pasture, or the fear of a man alone in the desert who has heard a voice say, I am the Lord, or, most likely, for most recent, yearning for the woman he left only a few hours ago, I have comforted myself with raisins, I have strengthened myself with apples, for I am swooning with love.
Jesus might recite these sweet words to his mother and brothers, but he pauses on the threshold to ask himself, My mother and brothers, not that he does not know who they are, the question is, do they know who he is now, he who asked questions in the Temple, who watched the horizon, who met God, who has experienced carnal love and discovered his manhood. Before this same door once stood a beggar who claimed to be an angel, who if he really was an angel could have burst into the house with a great commotion of ruffled wings, yet he preferred to knock and to beg for alms like any pauper. The door is only latched. Jesus does not need to call out as he did in Magdala, he can walk calmly into his own home, the sores on his feet are completely healed, but then sores that bleed and fester are the quickest healed. There was no need to knock, but he did. He had heard voices over the wall, recognized the voice of his mother coming from farther away, yet could not summon the courage simply to push the door open and announce, I'm here, like one who knows his arrival is welcome and wishes to give a pleasant surprise. The door was opened by a little girl about eight or nine years old, who did not recognize the visitor, and voice of blood and kinship did not come to his assistance by telling her, This is your brother Jesus, don't you remember him. Instead he said, despite the four years that had passed since they last saw each other and despite the fading light, You must be Lydia, and she answered, Yes, amazed that a complete stranger should know her name, but the spell was broken when he said, I'm your brother Jesus, may I come in. In the yard under the lean-to adjoining the house he could see shadowy figures, probably his brothers, now they were looking in the direction of the door, and two of them, the oldest, James and Joseph, approached. They had not heard Jesus' words, but didn't need to go to the trouble of identifying the visitor, for Lydia was already calling out excitedly, It's Jesus, it's our brother, whereupon the shadows stirred and Mary appeared in the doorway, accompanied by Lisa, the other daughter, almost as tall now as her mother, and both of them called out with one voice, My son, My brother, and the next moment they were all embracing in joyful reunion in the middle of the yard, always a happy event, but especially when it is the eldest son returning. Jesus greeted his mother, then each of his brothers, and was greeted warmly by all of them, Brother Jesus, how good to see you again, Brother Jesus, we thought you had forgotten us, but no one said, Brother Jesus, you don't look any richer. They went inside and sat down to the meal his mother had been preparing when he knocked at the door. One could almost say to Jesus, coming as he does from where he does, having indulged his sinful flesh and kept bad company, one could almost say with the brutal frankness of simple people who suddenly see their share of food diminish, When it's time to eat, the devil always brings an extra mouth to feed. No one present dared put this thought into words, and it would have been wrong if he had, an extra mouth makes little difference when there are already nine to feed. Besides, the new arrival has more right to be here than any of them. During supper, the younger children wanted to know about his adventures, while the three older children and Mary observed that there had been no change in his occupation since their meeting in Jerusalem, for the smell of fish has long since disappeared, and the wind swept away the sensuous perfume of Mary Magdalene, and don't forget all the sweat and dust acquired on the road, unless one were to take a close sniff at Jesus' tunic, but if his own family did not take such a liberty, why should we. Jesus told them how he had tended one of the largest flocks ever seen, how he had recently been on a lake helping fishermen bring in the most extraordinary catch of fish, and that he had also experienced the most wonderful adventure any man could imagine or hope for, but he would tell them about it some other time and then only some of them. The younger children pleaded, Tell us, please tell us, and Judas, the middle brother, asked him in all innocence, Did you make a lot of money while you were away, to which Jesus replied, Not so much as three coins, or two, or even one, nothing, and seeing disbelief on their faces, he emptied his pack without further ado. And truly, he had little to show for his labors, his only belongings a metal knife that was worn and bent, a bit of string, a chunk of bread as hard as a rock, two pairs of sandals reduced to tatters, the remnants of an old tunic. This belonged to your father, said Mary, stroking the tunic, then the larger pair of sandals, she told him, These too were his. The others lowered their heads in memory of their dead father.
Jesus was putting everything back into his pack when he felt a large, heavy knot in the hem of the tunic. The blood rushed to his face, it could only be money, money that he had denied possessing and that must have been put there by Mary Magdalene, and therefore earned not in the sweat of one's brow as dignity demands but with sinful groans and sweat of another kind. His mother and brothers looked at the knot, then all looked at him. Uncertain whether to try to conceal the proof of his deception or bluff his way out without really explaining, Jesus chose the more difficult way. He untied the knot and revealed the treasure, twenty coins the likes of which had never been seen in this house, and said, I had no idea this money was here. Their silent rebuke passed through the air like a hot desert wind, how shameful, the eldest son and caught telling such a lie. Jesus searched his heart but could not be angry with Mary Magdalene, he felt nothing but gratitude for her generosity, this touching act of giving him money she knew he would have been ashamed to accept openly, for it is one thing to say, Your left hand is under my head and your right hand embraces me, and another not to remember that other hands have embraced her. Now it is Jesus who looks at his family, defying them to doubt his word, I had no idea this money was here, which is true but not quite the whole truth, daring them to ask him the question to which there is no answer, If you didn't know you had this money, how do you account for its being here now. He cannot tell them, A prostitute with whom I spent the last eight days put the coins here, money she received from the men she slept with before I came. Scattered on the soiled, threadbare tunic of the man who was crucified four years ago and whose remains were shamefully thrown into a common grave, the twenty coins shine like the luminous earth that one night struck terror in this same household, but no elders will come from the synagogue this time to say, The coins must be buried, just as no one here will ask, Where do they come from, lest the reply oblige us to give them up against our will. Jesus gathers the money into the palms of his hands and says once more, I didn't know I had these coins, as if giving his family one last chance, and then, glancing at his mother, says, It is not the devil's money. His brothers shuddered in horror, but Mary replied without showing any anger, Nor did it come from God. Jesus playfully tossed the coins into the air, once, twice, and said as naturally as if he were announcing he would return to his carpenter's bench the next day, Mother, we'll discuss God in the morning. Then turning to his brothers James and Joseph, he added, I also have something to say to you, and this was no condescending gesture, for both brothers are now of age according to their religion and therefore entitled to be taken into his confidence. But James felt that given the importance of the occasion, something ought to be said beforehand about the justification for the promised conversation, since no brother, however senior, can expect to appear unannounced and say, We must have a talk about God. So with a bland smile he said to Jesus, If, as you say, you traveled hill and dale four years as a shepherd, there couldn't have been much time to attend the synagogue and acquire so much knowledge that no sooner do you return home than
