Voices from the Past

there, to care for them. They are islanders and had been imprisoned over a year. For days they had been adrift, paddling, foodless except for fish and b

nd more resolute with this trio, which he be-lieves he understands: oh, I sympathize with these sun-blackene

od but I could

e them, so I brought Atthis and we asked Libus to let us in and we talked to two of them, giving them food and helping them eat and drink, and everything we

from her cha

errible...l

is hands quieted him. Not a word w

e...heat...no food... We can help

words, he got the fell

. Phaon has heard the details of their days on the raft, and I am

is mending, eating and drinking normally, talking rationally much of the time. Phaon's cousin cla

s lay injured, the spear wound in his skull healing,

Phaon, in a

ward, oar

t seems to tow

bronze, P

rings Sappho a

he shell they

in to m

l sculptured

und of

as to be delivered soon. This realization sharpens our love, though he thi

s summer heat, our damp bodies, my sticky perfume and sticky fingers... cool drink

thing's so good. And there

for l

ur family will be bigger, you know." He talked languid

thought

ixing time around me: Kle

ebbing to lavender, fog on the water, floating above the surface, a

ve him for luck

lovers and then a husband to whom she was faithful. She did not have to endure a

initialed dra

ly swayed. Phaon equipped us for diving and since the ocean lay incredibly calm, we located the wreck easily by tacking in circles. Kelp had snared the masts-giant legs of brow

afraid of k

wn arms yanked at the kelp; he bobbed and

e help

too deep,"

brave and gulped and oozed out bubbles, peering up. I wanted to put my feet on the wreck but I never reached her. Lungs bursting, I swam up-ward, soared, unable to see clearly. My lungs hurt a long time afterward, as I lay on deck, amazed at

came a net that filled with fish of reddish hue, then sank, to be towed t

opped. As I lazed, birds spiraling, someone hollered and floun-dered toward our boat and I

not been exci

he nicked the green of the cup's rim and uncovered gold, the go

was it below? we asked each other,

ures and laughter went o

ging and flipped over glassy combers: fish leaped: we watched as great

talked, of our sep

be gone a

trip won't

back to th

you

ried

of rain splotch-ing the horizon, pelicans one after the o

e stars out, Mercury but no moon, the stars and the crickets and a nightingale and the sea, and someone, somewhere in the house, movin

e to satiety he

music upon

phallus

ng as this

ivering ma

odor the hol

eaving, orgi

mes, comes wi

ysteries, lo

ndy madness I jo

enviously, that's suitable... twirls, quivering mast

geons, gulls, servants coming and going,

erly motionless. I looked about for a moving bird or a boat. Huddled on the wharf near me, a man slept, to

id. The slow unwrapping of the clouds irked me: a number of men arrived and carried b

creaking between unintelligible words, a dog whining, a

l leaned ove

th the

one's

's s

nd Alcaeus: I heard the oars: as the ship headed seaward, Atthis hugged me and my loss was in

tter to have a fling at Charaxos, there on the wharf, in his white c

med mean

elt this way,

or, and walked to my room alone, determined to think clearly: but it was no more than a

window

mere dot, that point of

y? No, it was the conjunction of these and the very thought, this summary, increased my se

and scattered raindrops fell, scenting the air. I went out and let them wet my

as suc

orning, warm, in my bed, a day or a year..

es, banging our shutters, moaning over the roof un

afraid,

am...Are

aybe a

about

at sea by

at bad, to be

t know.

o might shift...his sail might... When Atthis hugged me, I felt stifled and yet, as she quieted and the storm contin

ers and I rose and closed them and d

es had ch

surf growing wilder, sloshing over rocks, climbing the

lot of storms, sleep. Your island isn't in danger. But, nothing could keep me from think

wretched re-initiation, after

and Gyrinno talkin

t with him: I'll make something of him, Alcaeus had said t

tation are t

the imm

ws have th

tars

rover,

hurled boats ashore, uproo

d town pulls i

slip past you and sent it to sea? You should have kept it! You can withstand batterin

town, picking up tiles

clutters

heard them hit Pittakos and saw him stagger, his flapping rags jerking,

ess-eyed, roared and lunged a

l him...let me

an off the raft, how

ing Pittakos, most of them b

o cry out... I told them to stop, asking the

," Alcaeu

emed to ooze from the sand, from the sea, from antiquity: t

as I walked toward Pittakos: ma

e, before they kill you, Pittako

backed away. A hand went to a spot where a stone

to turn on you... I don't want to kn

, he shuffled aw

Alcaeus, finding me

I said, faci

ith me, muttering to him, seeing Thasos,

f the men: young, bearded faces, most of them

me," Alcae

ed to b

at the w

to becom

go," h

e, Thasos, take his arm

d have st

hy

with Alcaeus

re mine: he was breathing hard and had to rest, stopping ag

this kind of hors

ened; his hands trembled; his mouth was open. He seemed in the past, with his men, galled, waiting: W

ith him at h

the quar

, some

water. The cool of

again...I came at him with the facts.

lent a while,

d truth-for

old,"

ced, chastised. Oblivious of us, appearing more normal than any t

ng, sinking, headed for shore, dragged to sea: we are mad, we are sane, or between: we exert our-selves and the world seeks revenge; we

can not be assured. And, if life is innocent, then what is the

ey had killed him," Alcaeus said

d not

e him murder

us...w

uch longer m

's

e chil

what's h

t even

couldn

us, I walked home, eager to be alone, for now the town seemed withdrawn, callous, incomplete, a failure. I touched a hollow in a wall and picked a leaf and, where a street opened on the bay, looked a

Assyria, Egypt and Persia. Some of the cloth blew against me, light as a Sudanese

bons for your

ed bull in gold on blue cotton... I saw an imperial snake in green on white silk, a

d moth

shields on it, this blue, soft blue! Don't you love i

keels...sailors unloading bales...

ight envelopes t

ontours and tex

ts, belly,

ing Home

s lovely a

in the go

the Medi

a My

s-five years ago Anaktoria? Was t

they are peace and beauty. I recalled how and when I had met each and loved each one for her special qualities. Each had a place in my

I could not be happy without its communication. For all its pervasiveness it seems on the verge of a secret: looking down through the waves I sense it, I sense it at night, when phosphorescence steals shoreward or when

om, Atthis prattles about h

rounded, sensual, inc

speople, theatre folk, the Athenian star, Alcaeus, Gogu, the gir

rs. Her breasts are larger, shoulders fuller. She could be a priestess: the face solemn, the

her neighbor with her sharp sandal and

st part of the house. Lingering, I watched leaves puff down the steps. By the fountain

ght me a bouquet of

t me join yo

g erect, she offered her flowers and then spun around and fled: I could scar

e is or where she live

spirit: maturity is seldom daring and to be daring is to open doors: maturity, then, is balance: is it also the decorum people accuse me of? Parasol, tilted at just

had seen him in Samnos: ax beard and sullen mouth were the same; he had the same slouch, the

the news! You see I've been here for three years...to escape the

vivid as this derelict

and later met his friends, all hungry for news, all in rags, living from hand to mouth, scared. It was their fear that worrie

d have him lashed to death by nightfall, if someone discovered him. My pledge of secrecy is a pl

ried soon, so I am doing things wrong. I try to tell myself this is her happiest time and st

n, my girls, sailors, half the town, Pittakos and rogues...Rhodo

r the mal

the s

ks, above us lie the hills, around

o: give them luck: a light will fall: the

play m

ow is he to be kept alive through m

ift, a gift nothing else has: to giv

pocrite: that is how it seems as I urge Al

he listens: if he conceives of us as he used to be, his hatred subsides. Let him feel

think you were never

u know

traitor to

I say we lose through vio-lence. I'm no traitor

g about justice, when

ays with Aes

se us or hear our problems.

ha

of slavery... I did

here are

Aesop would rebuke such thinking and say: Slav-ery is not in ourselves but in the misused power of other

s a story Ph

lamps burning. On a rug lay a naked man, asleep. He'd been lying ther

beside him. His yellow hair streamed across the r

amps burn...make no noise...ta

hut the temp

olden hair he had kept and it burst into flame and bec

s and hea

s muscles,

ughter and

ng-rising

al union

d cypress, b

d perspirat

bing out o

lone with my lighted lamps and moonlig

s happy...many o

ressed, in fine white clothes. His hate was gone, that was something I saw at once: I wa

say...to make amends? You stopped them f

rged and I thought: Can he expect me to rub out the past b

e changed-that I went o

during the cere-mony, and had resented his presence; as I

was still in my mind. I could see Kleis smiling and hear the we

ssing, gliding, saying with their gra

s turne

y a word but s

Pitt

ded me d

es

arted to

d up all night...it was more than thinking: I looked at the past. I've been mista

ng, he

Anaktoria, gay; Atthis, dreaming; Kleis, my herder... We ate togethe

flowers, their incense and coloring... remember, too, the farewell of my pair, their backs and shoulders as they headed for their house on the headland, a small place among figs and tall white poppie

a satisfyi

ny, the chorus singing my poem: terra-cotta lamp, do you remember her wedding? Did

ked, my head high, the embodi-ment of innoc

uffs throu

ean wh

ion. Since the man who had forcibly made love to her was there, I was disconcerted. I was ashamed. My face burned. Wh

red away, I enjo

ger perhaps, gazed back at

can I go on? Now my thought is: What has replaced them? Husband, mother, friend... I am forev

to me how

it is tragic that Aesop died, beaten by a mob. At least, mother

doubly. Surely, it is hard enough to die without dying

that Pittakos came to

sh little. Hard as it is, unfair as it is, I must keep this to myself. Of course, some would disbelieve

ch time ahead. We must be far-

al lover

ve in the

falls on t

s, legs, th

and soft

n below

s and ponde

window, faci

y lyre a

ow, my

e shell

ing ins

completion. Yet, my ninth book is done. When I had finished my sixth, I thought: this is all. When I

floods everywhere: lyric by lyric, our

eir frankness, eyes dancing. He remembered som

he write me? Will their crudeness be too mu

g heads. I'd like to slip into their shop as they work, to overhear them: would I laugh or rec

thought o

a Po

a and together we

ld not get to sleep. Her arms

d arm in arm we watched it, its arc faintly re-flected on the water. Her myrrh was everywhere, her spirit

ate than mine. A lost arrow sent us near the sea. Then gam

dice in he

too effervescent, too delightful: the moment swells over us: then, another moment, even while we are eating tog

brary, laid it on my desk, amazed to see it, startled, fingers fumbling. Someone had wanted to be kind, but it wasn't kindn

ed before us: the broad bracelet he wore bothered him and he shoved it higher on his arm: silent t

, its forlorn quality...they would serve no purpose I could think of.

's slave fanning the sick man, swaying his palm frond low, Libus' face tense and canvas-colored. Serfo turned his barbaric features, square-cut beard and blazing green eyes

s old troubl

. When he spoke to Gogu, I could detect an immediate response. The slave brought water and poured it for Gogu and Libus got him to drink: the frond di

near Libus but when Serfo offered drinks, we went into his shop where he displayed ivory figurine

e from Luxor

ht?" I asked, hearing

right by eveni

d out the yellowing and flaking: he held an Amazon in the doorway, dust cr

small. I felt the flakes of time-my life flak

and olives, poppies in bloom along the paths. Their place, nearer the bay than mine, absorbs the bay's placidity

s home where Helen has taught me designs for my loom and reaffirmed what patience r

they move, remind me of their healing quality and his voice has that same be-

a country whole-someness I love. She chats about flowers she

have large centers and bees loll on th

beds of kelp, their blue backs like so many watery hills. I think something lures

ost at sea: I have often seen her, head bowed: she faces the town, staring: the sea sound is her weeping; perhaps it is the weeping of many women

on has

iades h

ht is h

fe spe

in bed

leis and she threw her arms a

good to see you!

eld her close, my body remembering hers, fingers slip

aside, sh

house and be together, l

, gulls over us, shadows skimming roofs, dusty cobbles asking

tomorrow. I needed

Aesop stoned...the

n communal perfidy? Is there greater stupidity? One m

sake, I'm glad

he sea...she put her faith on the loom, the thread of it going beyond life. Mother must have heard me say such things, reflecting the same hope. Finc

in Cairo red, the sun blazing over the town, as the castaway bowed, holding together his rags, eyes wand

sack tied about his wais

I grew afraid as the castaway insisted, wagging head and hand, Charaxos

g it, I made out the letters my mother had go

ay, turn aside the castaway. I wanted to crumble on th

n," I m

e men

e sat down

d you get

Co

re fro

came f

e of my ships,

t look at

from Cos,

e rocky shores...he was injured in the big storm...you see, we found him

, wondering where I could go: I saw the castaway's blazin

u like," I said. "I will send ser

I do? I as

ed? Will I place it on my desk or hurl it out my window?

as I gazed at Charaxos. You may go and tell your

lf and retreat

ship, and I opened my hand and la

, is h

gained by taki

rxes and say to him, "Remember your promise," and take his powder. This is my inheritance, from pa

ands warmed me, crossing my back and shoulders, assuaging with their mirage the storm that

helped me,

-thing to me about getting back early... I hoped you two would go on...y

tics. Yes, I know Alcaeus was sufficient, years ago; then our island wome

t bring luck t

t tell us about life...only we

told you thro

while, hands

aut

d n

now your ancestral line...losses b

, as servants replaced lamps and closed windows, moving as slowly as if below the

ing Phaon back

urious resembl

happen to

be hers,"

l never li

on't change

liked his hou

" he

oesn't Alcaeu

inking of yo

t know abo

...but ca

I go

r a while,

ifts, bringing them surreptitiously or with a hint of jollity-sometimes compass

murmurs her love. As we walk

We placed a wreath for him... We thr

mention the trag-edy, she whispers hoarsely that she loves

has prob

g strange, that would harm us. We can't have yo

the rocks of Cos and I hear his voice speak my name: I see our Leucadian clif

sorrow, eradicates the drama of self: the curse of death needs soft ha

rds, Libus', Anaktoria's; the bone flute, the whole island is in them, in the spring leaves and autumn leaves, in the stark vines of winter: the weeping rock moves through them, the defeated fleet, the red rooftops of home, the bare hills, olive trees: I see a woman, called Sappho, lead-ing a child, named Kleis: I hear shepherd's bells, and the s

and as she weaves she faces me and smiles

the seaward windo

cks hold books,

tablets, cop

y inundates the

ates th

s, an

attered m

ene,

y library, dressed in black, beard soi

idn't hear yo

us in. Are

.sit

you a

es

he hadn't been sober very long; h

I sit

asos, helping him, la

e trou

os go and then

badly...but we have shared...be patient...I understand...Sappho; I have brought you my Homer. Remember, when

cae

is th

kage Tha

ke it...o

ing out to him, grateful, hoping I could make him sense my gratitude, I kissed h

t on s

e blinded by grief. Let me tell you your grief can't be as bad as mine. Or, if it is, let's share...share

, let m

kicked aside death on the field...look at my e

et it live! Give it new life! Soon enough death will claim both of us, but,

ll

ft and his grace and knelt by him and put my head in his hands a

orrow, Alcaeus

oo

worse than mine... I

beauty, what can I

in my black sea. How my ship drags anchor. What I've heard. I've heard some strange

soldiers at their fun. I could chea

that c

y father had owned that book. With age it had come unsewed and hung in

ly, h

e...give back the thunder of the storm...look how the bugs have eaten

he s

read so

...n

could hear them I search

distinctly as possible,

Aesop, Phaon...gon

for days. I have nothing to

pyrus against night, against impending doom, against depression. Tender notes whispered insani

pause. One could die

s wait-l

rt. Something summons the past, other songs on other nigh

a feather but sail and spar, rigged t

rry next to nothing and yet your song travels, s

eem to recognize me. How thin, how sick he is! Shadows of the olives shad-owed him. When he spoke, I hardly listened. Each of us is going the same way, I thought, an

nd a shell? Why was I walkin

d little: the trees have become more gna

e same: I can remember it when another brought me: Phaon re-membered it: and now, memori

I do not doubt. The best of

egrets in my skull. These are emotions we can not share but mu

ing: there is really nothing to prove except k

ing: play, darling, help me forget...let me see your face as I love to see it. M

morning, I miss him...the oc

ive tree says

us wr

u. Come over for the

could he know of Phaon, of

with Atthis and Anaktoria, to lay a wreath at

ough and the

hoped to die there: I wanted my bitterness to kill me: Wh

scattered blossoms and I found Atthis beside me, kneeling to comfort me. We had shared so much, the three of us, days and w

eir sake, and I tried to see beyond myself. There

sea carries

uds on th

f silver c

ough thro

glass the

tthis and

th whirls abo

ly, dolp

t and came here and we have

he liked the cove...yes, he went farther out to

, her nature shaken from its customary silence to talk of him. I recognized the effort and appreciated the communication. I wanted to

a, Gogu... I also counted those who have died. Dreaming, I counted our island, our town, our trees,

d. Perhaps it can grow in someone's mind: compassio

t down my thoughts, th

greatest thing in l

y, I te

in fut

remem

oppre

n, by t

hing a

e save

t of go

t's J

r's

ul

very warm. Across the fields I h

salmist, but because I hope to get closer to the meaning of life. Of course I should have started writing long ago. When I was in the

gether my thoughts, watching for strays. In

blowing in; a star is caught in a tree. Peter is talking

ul

was one of those windy days and dust spun around us. The man reached up his arms and mumbled; I remem

get up...walk...

nd then repeated my com-mand slowly. Like someone in a dream he untangled his rags and knelt. As he rolled his mat I encouraged

d, staring about uncertainly.

and as I watched he began to walk easily. He threw down his mat and

... I felt such joy, such joy, all day. I couldn't eat when I sat at the table at Peter's; his mother scolded me. To please her I nibbled a little fruit. I couldn't

me is

l I say when he thanks me? What can he say? I

sh

l the summer heat and hear flies buzzing. Father is at work in his shop. Whitey comes to me and meows; she's scare

te me, the stucco, earth floor, the bench, the broken handle of the saw, Father batting flies that try to settle on his beard. T

ranny, an old, old story for all of us. I have tried to deny the truth of that story but there it is, Herod's soldiers

ve. If it is impossible to forgive it is possible to look ahead. I felt too that my g

r's

sh

s the weather will be fine. I hope so, after w

fields and the corn is waist high, brown and roughly swaying. I wish I could stretch out in the mid

d perhaps I can summon thoughts for tomorrow; perhaps something will talk to me in t

barely see to write...a cricket sp

s and blan-kets, I was deeply moved. I was specially moved by an old woman near me who never took her eyes off me. Dressed in blue, her clothes in tatters, her face gleamed. Wrinkled cheeks were kind. There was kindness in

lt of the earth-you are the light of the world. Let your light so shine bef

are they that mourn for they shall be comforted...blessed are those who h

ands: she was my mother and every mother,

crowd in-creased and the hill was covered with people. She

usands...yours is the strength of the chosen, the humble and the contrite, the pure an

ng, that is, for me, the essence of living. I tried to speak slowly, measuring each word. By the

t you

There was such comfort, holding it; I felt my strength return. I thought of the stable in Bethlehem. When I went to

ay. Questions-there is no end to questions. I am glad and yet I am world-weary. World thoughts oppressed me. The moon

hri

ple say I am

is no

, the day temperate, the path climbing gradually above palm trees of the valley, up to the vineyards. Birds were gossiping

than I remembered. I thought of Solo-mon's song as I watched her, "Thou art in the clefts of the rock; l

e!" she exclaimed, gesturing toward the guests at their outdoor tables. Certainly it was Miriam's day. I thought of

two of th

ow empty them into the wine pitcher

ne," I heard

ed on my min-istry. I tasted the wine on my lips as I walked to Peter's. Before I had gone any distance Andrew and Phillip criticized t

behind a stick fence donkeys brayed; day was closing behind its fence of c

iness of the we

ed the

hva

r carpentry season for him and for others. No use has been made of the gifts these years but he won't listen. He wi

imself, legs crossed. He describes camels, accoutre-ments, attendants, a long, long story, growing longer with th

elchior...B

eir names. She is fondes

ore a dark blue robe. His hair

ergeant repaired her sandals. They followed an ancient caravan route, asking for help. They lived with Gabra nomads-borrowing a white camel, a day or two. Father says "she was a real princess on that

re very hungry. There, under the trees, the donkey died. They thought they would never get back to Israel. Father had the Magi gifts sewn to the

d. But he traded Melchior's coins, "for the sake of our boy." So they survi

rimes. The Kittim! Political schemes are hatched in the Forum with the wild beasts. Rom

t is a good thing when today's problems wipe out yes-terday's problems. When the oil in the lamp bur

ed through our town. Drum

peopl

hoplites caused

uch hirelings. I am unable t

e at Cana. As a group of us walked to J

of sacrifi-cial sheep. An ox screamed. Dust rose from underfoot as

sky. Men had worked for years to build

able men quarreled and spat. A sacrificial trumpet shrilled. I grabbed my taliss, the one Father gave me. Knotting it into a whip I struck the money

what you're doing... take your money away...you know ou

wn violence. He was a lanky, stone-like figure, grey-haired, grey-faced, p

learn. When a man revolts there is usually well-grounded reason. But be care-ful!

hva

carpenter's bench, making a three-legged stool. I finished smoothing the legs

earth would never leave me. And I thought, as I worked on the stool, how pleased Mother would be wh

li

ay as I bury the dead a little girl comes and throws herself at my

hva

h above the countryside. Guards shrugged as I entered. A door clanged with a terrible crash:

..in all those rags they didn't know you. You chose a good time; there has

n, he nodded and grinned at me. I did not understand what he whispered. When he was certain we were alone he grasped his chain and for

can get up at night and walk around...

r beards the same way; our faces are much alike except that mine is leaner. W

me to leave

He's as cruel as Herod, you know that! Go in hiding for a while, Jesus. Th

as there. I gave him a comb and he combed his beard and head, grimacing, laugh

ad Sea glistening dozens of feet below, a

prisoners on th

em... I'm not a

we are trying

run any

en't a

gh to eat...

need

ed in

...that is our

ome bread and fruit for a great man, a man of God. As I

His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee;

side sto

John and I

te

hva

ndoors. The sky is best and weeds and grass make the best floor. Old laws become new laws outdoors. I stres

the company of one's own shadow. After every meeting I am again surrounded by questioner

won-dered, as I watched them, are we the interlopers, have we usur

horse was lathered with sweat and the man was tired; he leaned forward in th

ed me, then pled with me to come and heal his son who was, ac-cording to his doctor, dying of fever. I shared fruit and he introduced himself; he admitted he had sough

ide to Capernaum. Take my horse. Ride...help my boy. Master, cure him...he has b

very hour he will improve. Ride home in peace...do n

my son-the son I would never have. I blessed him. My faith, God's grace, would

rode off, dubious, angry. A bree

t in p

se there are so man

um...the village mi

eizures. I had hardly helped her and finished my dinner when

nt gratitude was so bewildering, so nervous. As we talked in the courtyard of my host's ho

. The exultant friends, the overjoyed crowd, forced me to retreat. As I closed the door of the house I ob-served Roman sol

te

him, he related how thrilling it was to be able to move about, to "really walk." He explained what it had been to be

his house, to touch him. He imitated poking hands. Simeon is a pathetically handsome man, stil

e me young. My memory is coming

s; it is a faith based on patience and kindness. We have no right to kill, no right to inflict pa

ndures is another...the wounded heron struggling on...chi

t in heaven, hall

ther of us all, master of all. Seek an

sl

ing a scroll,

rs, on a table

the difference in just a month or so. I am encour-aged. I no longer ha

reams over us at the benediction. The passion of living is

f the

to Capernaum to visit Joseph, the young officer. He has promised to use his influence to free John. How wary he is of

tic. They ridicule our wish to uplif

del refused to all

quests go

d Matthew are n

ng me as I write

s thre

rth. Death. Ea

d the unknowns, yet to plumb them is still beyond me. Each child is a mystery. The temple is a mystery. The shell

sl

ite-preaching often, healing often. I am writing in

d by a crowd. I talked to them till late.

m that bread of life. Your fathers ate manna in the wilderness, and are de

sh in baskets. I blessed the food and there was an a

At parting I reminded the people of the deeper meaning but some were overwhelmed by the miracle. A yo

ssness troubled

. Andrew continued to comment about the "bread and fish" at almost every turn of the path. His youth-ful, enthusiastic face warned me, wa

. The tent pole is an antique shepherd's staff. A charioteer and a

staff long ago. He

fortably and the staff i

te

sl

eamed I was a t

begged. "I am shade...I

ree and fell asleep. I

r's

lev

dead.

been be

trophy at the palace. What desecration, abuse, folly, horror. I can barely write...sorrow...resentment... my mind whirls to the d

ote did nothing. My petitions were disregarded. I was too patient. I have sat in this room all d

: we are to be permitted to claim his body. It is best to have the sacred privilege of farew

arly, walk many leagues and extol his faith. We will tell it on the hills and in

lev

Some of us wound scarves around our faces. Mother suspected

arm; someone smashed our hammer. "Work fast," someone was constantly urging. Peter got defiant: "Let the Romans come," he shouted. "W

ried to refute his death. Hard to breathe. Hard to utter the final

; he did not recognize me of course. What a stark figure! I wanted to

ainst wickedn

, to care fo

k. Her wrinkled face made me aware th

me we talked of

ces for firewood and with that firewood we shall bake our bread-our pita. Crucified bread is the bread of the poor, the wa

reth

lev

because it was Sunday. I am threatened by various authorities for such "misdemeanors." Men spy on me and plot against me for acts of kindn

him health. He had been a paralytic for years. A cry went up because this was on

Sabbath," I said. "The world of ki

them. Angered that I would not respond willy-nilly, men attempted to throw me off the cliffside o

ng is intuitive. Though I dis-appoint and worry her she hides her concern, offering encouragement. She visits those I have h

te

lev

ecord that is such a poor record. In the midst of my wr

madman the other day. He rushed at you... I thought he would kill you...he had a knife. And you cured his madness. There...there

e eyes, the smile. Its powers are almost limitless. Its tender-ness, the child, the babe. My mothe

es as we sit around a table, the door open, his

at. He seemed to be looking for her. I tried to light his lamp but it didn't work. He got very thin, weak; he coughed. I did all the

te

ve

my journal. I prefer my journal. Doors wide open, the lamp bright, I read or write. My legs get

d brought an antique alabaster box and knelt beside me-to anoint my feet. I

there was nobody else. The man began repeating a par

owed fifty." The speaker stopped, adjusted his purple robe. "When their master forgave them

aughed up

how to accept and how to refute. I remember holding a scroll against the light in the doorway of the

wisdom on a dune, at a

ve

tened to the waves and gulls. I have tried to find words suitable for fisherfolk, villagers, countrymen. I walked

er supper, the

t in heaven, hall

ill b

as it is

daily bread, forgiv

temptation but de

e is the

nd the glor

rayer to Luke and Pet

li

ve

raveling fast. When the rain started I re-traced my steps. I heard voices and men at their oars. Waves were piling against rocks. The voices in the boat sounded familiar. Again the thud of

king...we'

the boat. As I walked the waves calmed; the water was black underfoot. Two of our men had slumped over t

ied. " Don't

you,

es

come t

," I

me and I got in and sat at the stern with Phillip. Everyone began bailing. The rain was letting up and I pointed to the shore. We soon beached

e up we had breakfast to-gether-some of them sing

ying by the fire, his clothes steaming. He explained t

a

ve

because I raised a man from the

young man lay on a flower-covered bier. I learned his name from a man in the procession: it was David. He and his mother h

place as the procession passed. As the bier scraped against a rock, a

...this is Jes

hed around the bier. I touched

sat up among his flowers and his mother rushed to his side. He

abandoned; someone threw flower

e David and his mother kissing

e. The curtains were drawn; the air was sick room air; flowers had wilted on h

ft you." As I prayed I also thought of John and his death. This little girl was not to f

ssed my hand over her fore-head, touched her eyelid

afraid because she had nev

e your room...shall I

im. I wet clay and placed it over his eyes. I allowed the cool clay to comfort him as I sp

s noise, pushed

g, he

eth? That must be a tree out there..." He was walking into the garden of his home. "I

many years in a short span; it seems to me I am very much alone; it seems to me I hear voices: Deu

ev

uage overly concise. Hebrew is the city man's tongue, best suited to argument

bi I have met. To him I owe my background; his years of tutoring gave me fr

nto patterns of original thought. Yes, memory and thought are broth-ers. But, make

n who ate sparingly yet lived to be eighty. A gre

-one of them on copper. The library at

an

d my attention to it, an inner voice. When I he

and fulfillment: I believe it is a privile

avy laden and I will give you rest..

hining in their eyes; I h

e

vat

to understand its desolation, its loneliness, its calm and fury. Now, during these troubled times, I lon

ical Hebrew until it came easily. The history of man became an important pa

tood the heat, cold and winds. It was my compan

n, behind the monastery. While I studie

true taste of food. During the months since the wilderne

cumbered by men. There, each morning was mine, each

nd thirst were often there yet a sense of praise was foremost. Wonderment was

et, one woven by my mother.

za

vat

g Nazareth-

nks and stares. I had several pals... We had niches in cliffs where we often hid. We had an old fig we liked to climb; there was a cave where we lit fires. We

a little bigger, the wind a little cooler. How good it was to turn a corner

za

vat

s cool a

th. His son sat in my lap a while. I did not say good-bye although I lingered at each place. I wanted to feel

pping my cloak, flapping the olive

it is t

za

first removing his tools and shavings. He locked the door and lit two candl

h, you've taken good care of t

er hands, its jewels redder than I had remember

hem...in the synagogue

odded, f

at the meeting. They'll become the temple possessions. It's

lders lost some of their age. The myrrh box interested me, its aroma still evident, its chased lid yet untar-nished. Mother lifted the

to have enjoyed them...now we can see them at the temple... Look, Jesus, at

r her dreams a

s of youth and b

za

vat

is my las

ng, crooning to me, as I lay sick as a boy. I remembered songs in the evening. I heard her laugh-ter as we played jacks. I smelled her b

equent visitors, concerned about my future. "It is wrong of you to go

no more Fest

I used to ha

memories any longer. I am not an old m

beauty. Life m

usa

vat

...yeah, though I walk through the va

e air, camels, drivers, gapers. Again I thought of Herod and the innocents: city life bri

eside me, eying me, begging

t, some waving palm fronds. Flares burned. On two giant can

salem? Shall I remain? My loneliness here

riends. When he did not come I bedded down

beasts wanted to be fed and watered. Nobody dis-turbed me. Probably I was considered a herdsman. I

," I

taking care

I offered sugared

am told he is having a love affair with the daughter of Pilate. Marcus, the son of a senator, has described Pilate's daughter as a beautiful, talented, ruthles

ws were olive tree windows. Garden paths circled a tiny fountai

irs, cushions and inlaid boxes brightened the room. Propped on a cushion I read Horace for hours; w

his wanton

mble in danger

die and no ma

rn in the same

c surroundings, his boating on the river Aufidus, his fishing. He liked to play ball. I could

us'

ar

uly, theirs is a special kingdom. I am happiest when they are around me, as they were yester-day in Clibus' garden. It was a birthday party for hi

or you,

ib

library in his home is a fraction of that monastic collect

stands on a plinth at the w

a golden Persian cat steal

les and the names of authors and I appreciate ha

think of visitin

ar

ty gate. I was aware that offi

tery. When she was brought to me I suspected a trick. Why should I pass judgment when

dier hit her with a chain. Men yelled: "Stone her, stone her!" When a man shoved

rds, watching the crowd and the woman. I smelled death. It was in the smoke of sacrifices b

fians and the officials

sinned throw the first stone. You accuse her...where is the man? Go home, all of you. Have you no pity? Remember

d I bought water at a shop and washed her face and hands and bought

e of me? They will catch me...beat me... Master, ma

eyond the gates. We sent her to the hom

of Moses spread before me, Affti, Clibus' Egyptian wife, brought a pillow and sat by me. She

our faith is for the little towns and villages whe

o he mentioned going to Rome. Do you

rge me to send a

pe you can send two or more to my country...to

very tall, very ele-gant; dressed in an Egyptian gown, she

r than your woode

us someone brought me

ac-quired a scroll. Our scrolls are in tatters and all are asked to ref

rry the scrolls, the other to see th

th may have a worthwh

usa

ar

ies com

. He who enters by the gate is the shepherd. To him the porter opens and

t people do not listen. Th

uch his sight became normal. He stumbled, fell, rushed about, shouted. Trembling he raced for home. He brought friends and there was great

rate, affirm his honesty; then he w

his world to h

I thought I could change their minds but their minds were in tatters like their clothes. One man thanked me, a young

his health he stood in front of me, smiling, laughing. He kept holding up his arms and hands-showing me. I asked him about people I knew in Tyre. H

usa

ar

nvited me to return to the monastery for a second reside

unal life: such sharing would be difficult for me

cliffs and caves near the monastery. Morning and

us

ar

d, as I spoke, men and boys p

rigue! How am I to help man-kind? My disciples urge me to leave Jerusalem. The world is beautiful, they remind me:

y's time. Underfoot were hieroglyphic slabs, a cartouche among them. I climbed old stone walls, were they Nehemiah's walls when he fortified the city? I found a broken scarab and remembered Egyptian words my mother taught me as a boy. In t

ing where women and girls were filling jars. People recognized me and soon a crowd formed, as I rested. The blind man, w

d his son, from Jer

n me," Bartimaeus pled, spe

t. Are you Jesus of Nazareth? Will you help m

ee: his expressions were so startling. He embraced his son. Erect, silent, he stared about him. Everyon

let me tell others what you have done for me. I know about your ministry."

x have holes and birds have nests but the man of God has no home. I

quarrelled with the daughter of Pilate. Faithful to our group, he collects and disperses funds. Ou

babies need sugar and salt and we have

ib

aloud. I don't want Mother and Father to come here. They dislike the city. Father

n's cousin, Elihu, came, distortion returned as we talked of John's imprisonment, torture, death. Elihu is a frail soul, so unlike John. H

usa

sa

ecause resur-rection means a blurring of the future, perhaps a cessation of the future. I can not plan a sabbath. I c

cifixion. How to bear it? Gird my loins, perhaps. It will not be easy to die

ats awa

ndermi

ls...rocky Judea... Caesar Augustus, your

be baptize

wis

, yellow straw, fresh, clean, glistening in the sun. I took a

th

sa

stunted trees, in a stinging wind, I became keenly aware of the days I spent at their home,

azarus lay. Loose rocks tum-bled underfoot. Wind whipped. A boulder blocked the crypt and I asked Martha to have her friends hel

ng I bent ov

e resurrection and the lif

ded him. Mary and Martha. De

t I knelt and shouted as

ks, death, a man in his crypt,

again a

member us, remember I am the resurrection and th

on: the sun was beh

tched my a

Lazarus has been dead

d by-men and women-the men

fe again!" I beseeched with pas-sion. I kne

his face. He could not see or move his hands. I went to him and Marth

ha said. "You are going home wit

be. Someone offered him a piece of bread. He shook his head, stared at us, turned from one to the other, his face b

" Lazarus began, spea

earing a robe? And these people... and J

h: it was closing in on me. The wind

way, listening to her

e-sus, you have saved him. I love you. It's wonderful! He's back...think o

rins-like old times. He had gotten into his work clothes. Putting his hand into a pocket he pulled out a small chisel and laid it on the table. But he said nothing. I urged him to eat Martha'

. I had to have time to be with Lazarus, be with Mary and Martha, write my journal. Alongside the carpen-try bench I have a table. I pre

ard claim that one of th

usa

's favorite, one we learned while at Qumran. Was it solace while h

nks unto T

wrought a won

me know Thy d

given me

ally bles

ding voice, his loving bened

ess thee an

His face to

acious un

hr

sa

run in and out. A boy with shaggy head has a pet dove. A girl with almond eyes is learning to weave. My disciples are here, the new and the old. We have met in a low room

will accost me. They may mock and scourge me, as they have many others..

he jammed room and anointed me with fragrant o

sa

eek ha

mpanied by

ified as many as two thousand men at one time because of religious de

Cae

n a clear morning, larks

to us, hundreds filled the paths and stre

ne. Children shouted joyously. For me, he was my donkey of peace. I waved as I rode along. Some

porticos, towers, shops... It was my city, my hated city; I esteemed the meaning it has f

row way. Romans turned on me and turned

gain at the vendors, toppling tables, hurling money trays. The crowd screamed, cheered. In the midst of this bedlam strangers, trave

as I explained the life eternal, the image of redem

goodness...men must share His divine harmony...you r

dren

went t

I preached to th

y towers there were scores listen

e there is light... darkness will come...he who walks in dark

ing chilly; a wind was bl

sheep and goats, grey pastoral sheep and black mountain goats. I was p

usa

sa

ing it was a long ta-ble and we sat around it, shar

told them, my legat

kingdom. Two at a time you are to go about the w

on, Peter, Thaddeus, Judas, John, Phillip. I gazed at one and then t

is to sav

r more than shadows. The white walls enshrined each of us. When the

crucify me...one of

at accusations! Then the pleas began: you must escap

d. "Heal the sick. Remember Cana... Galile

ours, ours to give. We are to help the heavy lade

u are to nurture goodwill

hat white room

ib

There is little time for writing, little time for thinking. I feel that I

ting pain, the body's pain, the soul's. To be a

te no mor

te

ya

help you! How I have wanted to care for your children as a h

s it lawful to pay tribute to Caesar? they asked. I asked for a coin. I ca

that are Caesar's and unto Go

It seemed to me they were stunned when I reminded them that God is not the god of the dead

the greatest comma

anting to impose

mind...this is the first and greatest commandment," I said. "The second comm

ble-makers who clean the outside of the cup and leave the inside dirty... I called them a generati

me. I could t

e left unanswered. Inventors of questions are every-where. I wanted to add, watch, be on guard, pray

t I was ill. She was ill. It is a long, long walk, from Nazareth. Peter gave us melon

sible to go

until I have risen from the dead to continue writing. I

and has promised to de-liver me to them for a sum. H

my final

ear me. Be attentive to

more than any who wait for the morning. I s

te

ya

m a

looked at my left hand. I looked at my right hand. They had healed. The stone that blocked m

bewil-derment and my happiness. I tasted the air. My brain rushed about, rebounded from a bush, crashed against rocks. Light was splintering aro

oss the field, I saw Mary Magdalene. She was sobbing, crying. I call

y robe, my hands. Later in the day we set out for Nazareth, for my home, Mother and

gifts of the Magi to obtain bribe money: he planned to bribe the soldiers to free me. The

o free him, our Nazaren

my imperfections, many hopes. I find a new calm in all that I experience: as I pro

held my emotions in check I felt confused by many doubts: above all I felt that my ministry would fail. Ah, that white room, those shadows, our courage as we sipped salt water in memory o

naked man, a man of the wilderness. This is the miracle of self. The mind owns itself. It doe

ya

s how

is prison bars, for around me were bars of shrub

al as death had been in the street that day men wanted to stone the woman taken in adu

prayed, "let this cup

o go. I had this, this waiting, this ex-p

ransom for man's si

sentinels

ard the unmistakable clank of side arms and men's voices, foreign speech

r shrubbery,

nsw

for?" I asked a sol

Nazareth

m Je

from one of the guards he slashed a man's ear. I rebuked him and cared for the guard, a

praying...this is the garden wher

with you

ust come with us. We have been commanded

ds-like a thief. I taught in the t

orchlight, mumbled in

here," Peter shouted; I saw

were hobbled together. We walked over piles of gar-bage. As we filed toward the house of Ananias w

ng, I was brought before Caiaphas, before scribes and elders, in an open courtyard

about my teachin

pernaum and in this city... I have said nothing in secret. Ask those who have hear

ck me across my face an

hin three days and rebuild it without hands. Other witnesses dis-agreed. A woman said I f

u the man the people cal

a

seemed to tear his r

d no more witnesses. I condemn this man to death.

riting about someone else, a friend perhaps. I write without prejudice. I am shaken

hands were roped behind me. I was thrown on the floor and beaten and kicked and spat on. Men p

battle gear-to impress me, I thought. But I was scarcely able to stand, scarcely able to think. My hands on the back of a chair, I put my mind to work: I singled out my home, its doors, its windows, the grass growi

if I was the

a trial. There w

ficials c

rity was no

iest condemne

rd I was marched to the paved square called Babbatha; troops lined the square, spectators gathered. The sun's warmth lessened my pain. One of the guards, secretl

asked Caiaphas the nature of my crim

, annoye

d not bring him before you." Pilate

ge him accordi

st dec

an saying he was

-cestors, some problem, for he hesitated, suspecting a ruse, that the pri

ioning me to come closer. "Your people ha

is not of

you a

bear witness

e shr

th?" He resu

not re

little while and then said, looking at m

riests protested

o Galilee. He's a troublemaker. He

s born in Nazareth for he ordered me brought to trial before Herod, the loc

elcomed me because he had heard of my miracles and wanted me

on, waiting, waiting for the liberty that never came. I saw h

rple robe over my shoulders and place me on a chair. T

it was then I attempted to think of home. Something like an actual wall blocked me. All the emptiness of life, the savageness of the wildern

te

ya

eering mob and trie

in the Babbatha yard. Calling sev-era

ay he perverts the people. I find no fault

ir, his wife beside him. R

e? Barabbas? Do you want Barabbas

shouted, and the crowd repeated h

ll I do w

him...cru

has he

nswered: "C

e the sadness. There is a chance to diminish man's cruelty. I take that chance. We are here in this world to make life worthy. We

ce among the mob...Peter...M

, a great, tall man. As he walked away I was led to a whipping post, bound, and lashed with t

d to t

hy robe around me and forced a crown of thorns on my

f the Jews,"

mself the Son of God. Kill him." Pilate appeared and a

ou realize I have the

inking o

nemy of Rome...he defies Caesar." "Ou

ook water and washed his hands before the crowd.

armed soldiers, carrying shields, grabbed me and forced me outsid

f walking. It isn't far, i

We climbed a steep bank, passed houses, trees, rocks. The centurion ordered m

nearl

out: "If any man wishes to prove the inno-cence of Jesus, let him speak." His voice, his robe, the beam, the cro

ard Lazarus call. I saw Martha. She was kneeling, reaching toward me. Peter

the cross on the ground. I prayed for courage, st

with pain. Then I felt greater pain as they pounded a nail throu

nd children crying. I tried to speak to them. But as I hung there everything began to move away from me: a great distance swam around me. I thought of a mirage. Someone put a s

my disciples placed it in his family crypt. He provided a robe and cloth to cover

r's

va

enough of desert privation. Last night she spread a special table for my homecoming: pomegranate juice, melon, cheese, bread, nuts, chromis and another fish, clari

re eating,

e well?" He brushed his hand over his yellow beard. "I couldn't forget the terror..

es; it was well after sunset and we felt the quiet of

nervous, kept watching my hands-

return to Jerusa

one reason was my desire to send my disc

out among our countrymen wh

ing to do with the crucifi

us forget pain; however I ask myself whether it is evil to forget evil. But I can think of resurrection as a fo

iting the spring at Neby. I suggested we leave early if it did not rain during the night and bog the paths. At Neby I wanted to wo

iliar pallet, the good pillow, the candles. I was able to dismiss th

o me than weeks ago as I

would be able to go on reading Ec-clesiastes and Peter's copy of the Psalms. When I told Peter that Clibus had fou

te

va

Since he was one of us we have buried him; at his grave a down-pour struck us and drove us

ead at twenty-eight years. As Ec-clesiastes s

ows, banners, standards, smoke. Shields flash as men drill. Camels are hobbled behind the tent town. We ca

ys glory, po

-early

va

men. Are humble men more or less successful with their lives? These men know ambition and is ambition the safe route? Verily, verily "all is vanity and vexation of sp

te

va

ul month, a month

d the fields around Nazareth and I remembered climbing olive trees

est in Nazareth some Nazarenes said. I hurried to fill our

he sick...it is a joy, a joy rather kin-d

rn it to Matthew's care. Among our

va

amiliar sounds; through my window I see the Milky Way and the gr

letters superior to the old script. I go on listening. The

za

va

His hands tremble. After seeing me on the c

as we stood in front of

r at Qumran? Remember that old long-bladed

at shirt at the F

d walked awa

g, Barabbas appeared. Jamnia is his village and he entered the house of Gehazi without k

d wild, he seemed ill, perhaps de-ranged.

crucified," he repea

emained together, tal

te

va

-we need

is a five day walk to Nazareth. It is a two day walk to the village of Gehazi. Most walks

r my solitary walks. I am aware of close communion when alone. Patience,

te

mm

hed roof. The floors have interested me. He found pieces in some Babylonian structure;

a summe

ouds, gr

r-giveness. Kneeling by me he promised he would carry the word... "to Rome

s' shed. It took the three of us to line up a door. Of course i

more than seventy of us no

me of

mm

-ception. Mine is a brief, swift looking back: I heal the sick, I renew

still follow hills, hills of resurrection they may be. Perhaps history may call me a m

ing them in the name of the Fathe

taught...remin

muz

omb, no cryp

ay not be

I carry a handful

er and Father...Lazarus...Miriam..

ick up my sa

e wer

r wil

d me make

and I struggle with delig

muz

nce we have friends at the syna-gogue in

God and keep His commandmen

ell T

e helpful. It is very lat

re is light and with this

phets will come to you

have heard the Father's w

ng so that you ask the end? Where th

u will know that you are the son of the living Father. I

ere. Pick up a stone;

e is easy, my lordship ge

r is spread over the ear

u shall find the kingdom because you have

filled with light, but whenever he is

ur own soul. Guard him

when you seek and y

o

r for the first t

the 4th centur

According

d in Hamm

rough the

slator, Dr.

ent of English, B

da Vinci'

cently attempted t

Vinci also t

, too,

mo Carda

Eliz

rdo d

1452 – M

stra

nals by the author-interpre

rait ...............

f Leonardo'

andwriting" ....

......................

......................

.....................

........................

.......................

.......................

......................

.......................

.......................

.........................

......................

.........................

cis I; there, he lived in the small residence of Cloux, near the King's summer palace at Amboise on the Loire River. Leonar

tions... This is a codex of his mind as he di

anging his treatises on perspective, anatomy, horses, flight, and the arts. His patron, King Fr