Once about noon time, Jesus and his disciples were ascending a rocky
and mountainous path barren of shade, and as they had been over five
hours on the road Jesus commenced to complain of weariness. The
disciples stopped and Peter with his friend John spread their mantles
and those of other disciples on the ground and fastened them overhead
on two protruding rocks and thus prepared a sort of a tent for Jesus.
And he reclined in that tent, resting from the heat of the sun, while
they sought to divert Him with merry talk and jests. But seeing that
speech wearied Him they withdrew a short distance and engaged in
various occupations, being themselves but little sensitive to heat and
fatigue. Some searched the mountainside for edible roots among the
rocks, and brought them to Jesus, others ascended higher and higher.
John had found a pretty blue lizard among the stones and bore it
tenderly to Jesus, with a gentle smile; the lizard gazed with its
protruding mysterious eyes into His eyes and then swiftly glided with
its cold little body over His warm hand and rapidly bore away somewhere
its tender and trembling tail.
Peter, caring little for such diversions, amused himself in company
with Philip by detaching large stones from the mountainside and rolling
them down in a contest of strength. Attracted by their loud laughter,
little by little the others gathered around them and took part in the
game. Straining every muscle each tore from the glen a hoary
moss-covered stone, lifted it high overhead with both arms and dropped
it down the incline. It struck heavily with a short, blunt contact and
seemed to stop for an instant, as if in thought, then irresolutely it
took the first leap, and each time it touched the earth it gathered
from it speed and strength, grew light, ferocious, all-crushing. Then
it leaped no longer, but flew with flashing teeth, and the air with a
whizzing noise made way for the compact rotund missile. Now it reached
the edge of the ravine; with a smooth final movement the stone flew up
a little distance into the air, and rolled below, clumsy, heavy and
circular, towards the bottom of the invisible abyss.
“Now then one more!” cried Peter. His white teeth glistened through his
black beard and mustache, his powerful breast and arms were bared and
the old angry stones, dully wondering at the strength that cast them,
one after the other submissively passed into the abyss. Even frail John
threw little pebbles, and Jesus smiling gently watched their game.
“Well, Judas, why dost thou not take part in the game, it is apparently
so diverting?” asked Thomas having found his queer friend motionless
behind a large grey rock.
“My breast pains and they have not called me.”
“Is there any need to call thee? Well, I call thee. Come. Look how
large are the stones that Peter is casting down.”
Judas glanced sideways at him and for the first time Thomas dimly
realized that Judas of Kerioth had two faces. But hardly had he grasped
the idea when Judas remarked in his wonted tone, ingratiating and at
the same time sneering:
“Is there any one stronger than Peter? When he shouts all the asses in
Jerusalem think their Messias has come and respond. Hast thou ever
heard their braying?”
Smiling amicably and bashfully covering his breast that was covered
with curly red hair Judas entered the circle of the players. And as
they all felt merry they received him with glad shouts and hilarious
jests and even John indulgently smiled when Judas, groaning and
simulating great strain detached an immense stone. But now he easily
raised it and cast it down. His blind wide-open eye shifted and fixed
itself rigidly on Peter, while the other, cunning and happy twinkled
with suppressed merriment.
“Well, you throw another one,” broke in Peter in an offended tone.
And then one after another they raised and dropped gigantic stones, and
in surprise the disciples watched them. Peter would throw a large
stone, but Judas a still larger one. Peter, with a frown, wrathfully
turned a fragment of the rock and reeling raised it and dropped it into
the depths. Judas, still smiling, searched with a glance for a still
larger fragment, caressingly dug into it with his lean long fingers,
clung to it, swayed with it and with blanching cheek sent it down into
the abyss. Having dropped his stone, Peter fell back and thus watched
its flight, while Judas bent forward, leaned over the abyss and spread
out his long and creepy arms as though he meant to fly after the stone.
Finally both of them, first Peter and then Judas, seized a grey stone
and were unable to raise it, neither one nor the other. Flushed with
his effort Peter resolutely approached Jesus and loudly exclaimed:
“Lord, I do not want Judas to be stronger than I. Help me to raise that
stone and cast it down.”
And Jesus softly made some reply. Peter dissatisfied shrugged his broad
shoulders, but dared no rejoinder and returned with the following
words:
“He said: ‘And who shall help the Iscariot?’”
But glancing at Judas, who with bated breath and tightly clenched teeth
still clung to the stubborn stone, Peter burst out in a laugh:
“Look at the sick man! Look at our poor ailing Judas.”
And Judas himself laughed, being so unexpectedly exposed in a lie, and
the others laughed also; even Thomas suffered a smile to slip past his
straight, shaggy mustache.
With merry and friendly speech they started again on their way, and
Peter, having made full peace with the victor, now and again nudged his
ribs with his fists and laughed loudly.
“The sick man!”
Everyone praised Judas, everyone acknowledged him victor, everyone
conversed with him cordially, but Jesus—Jesus even this time failed to
praise Judas. Silently He walked on ahead, gnawing at a blade of grass,
and little by little the disciples ceased their laughter and joined
Jesus. Soon it happened that they walked all in one group ahead, but
Judas, the victor Judas, the strong Judas, trudged along in the rear
swallowing dust.
They paused, and Jesus laying one hand on Peter’s shoulder pointed with
the other into the distance, where already in the mist had appeared
Jerusalem; and the big broad back of Peter carefully couched His fine
sunburnt hand.
For the night’s lodging they stopped in Bethany, in the house of
Lazarus. And when they all gathered to converse, Judas thought it a
good time to recall his victory over Peter. The disciples, however, had
little to say and were unusually silent. The images of the journey just
completed, the sun, the rocks, the grass, Christ reposing in the tent,
floated softly through their minds, exhaling a gentle pensiveness,
generating dimly sweet dreams of some eternal motion under the sun. The
wearied body rested sweetly, musing of something mysteriously beautiful
and great—and not one remembered Judas.
Judas went out. Then he returned. Jesus was speaking and his disciples
listened in silence. Motionless as a statue, Mary sat at His feet and
with head thrown back gazed into His face. John had come close to the
Teacher and strove to touch the hem of His garment with his hand, but
so as not to disturb him. And having touched it he sat breathlessly
still. And Peter breathed hard and loud, echoing the words of Jesus
with his breath.
The Iscariot stopped at the threshold and contemptuously passed his
glance over those assembled, concentrating its flames upon Jesus. And
as he gazed, all around him grew dim and was lost in gloom and silence;
Jesus only, with uplifted hand, was radiant. But now He too seemed to
rise in the air, seemed to melt and His substance seemed to change into
luminous mist such as hangs over the lake when the moon goes down; and
His soft-spoken words sounded somewhere afar off and gentle. And gazing
deeper into this wavering vision, drinking in with his ears the tender
melody of those distant and spectral words, Judas gripped his whole
soul with claws of iron and silently in its unfathomable gloom
commenced to rear something stupendous. Slowly in the dense darkness,
he raised immense mountainous masses, piling them up one upon another,
and raised others and piled them up again; and something was growing in
the darkness, expanding voicelessly, spreading its outlines. Now he
felt his head transformed into a vast dome, and in its impenetrable
gloom there grew and grew something stupendous, and someone wrought
therein, raising mountainlike masses, piling them up one upon another
and raising up new ones ... And gently there sounded somewhere distant
and spectral words.
Thus he stood, blocking the doorway, towering tall and dark, while
Jesus spoke, and Peter’s loud breathing same in unison with His words.
But suddenly Jesus ceased—with an abruptly incomplete sound, and Peter,
like one awakened out of a trance, triumphantly exclaimed:
“Lord, Thou knowest the words of Eternal Life!”
But Jesus was gazing somewhere in silence. And when they followed his
glance they saw Judas in the doorway rigid, open-mouthed and with
staring eyes. And not knowing what it was about, they laughed. But
Matthew, learned in the Scriptures, touched Judas’ shoulder and
remarked in Solomon’s words:
“He who has a gentle look will be shown mercy, but he who is met in the
gate will oppress others.”
Judas shuddered and even uttered a faint hoarse cry of fear, and all of
his body—eyes, arms and legs seemed to flee in different directions. So
a beast might look when suddenly facing the eyes of man. Jesus walked
straight against Judas, seemingly bearing some word on His lips, and he
walked past Judas through the door which was now open and free.
Long after midnight Thomas, becoming worried, approached Judas’
sleeping place and bending over him inquired:
“Thou weepest, Judas?”
“No, go away, Thomas.”
“Then why groanest thou and gnashest thy teeth? Art thou ill?”
Judas was silent for a space of time, and then from his lips poured
forth one after another heavy words, throbbing with yearning and wrath.
“Why does He not love me? Why does He love them? Am I not more
beautiful, am I not better, am I not stronger than they? Did I not save
His life while the others were running away cringing like cowardly
curs?”
“My poor friend, thou art not entirely in the right. Thou are not at
all beautiful and thy tongue is as disagreeable as thy face. Thou art
forever lying and speaking ill of others. How dost thou expect that
Jesus should love thee?”
But Judas heard him not and continued: “Why is He with those who do not
love Him, instead of with Judas? John brought Him a lizard, I would
have brought Him a venomous snake. Peter cast stones, I would have
turned the mountain around for Him. But what is a snake? Draw its tooth
and it will cling about thy neck like a necklace. What is a mountain
which one can dig with his hands and trample under foot? I would have
given Him Judas, daring, beautiful Judas. But now He will perish and
Judas will perish with Him.”
“Thou sayest strange things, Judas.”
“The withered fig tree which is to be hewn down! Why, that is I, He
said it of me! Why does He not hew? He dare not, Thomas. I know Him. He
fears Judas! He hides before the daring, the beautiful Judas! He loves
the fools, the traitors, the liars! Thou art a liar, Thomas, hast thou
heard me?”
Thomas was greatly surprised, and thought of protesting, but he decided
that Judas was merely brawling, and contented himself by shaking his
head. But Judas’ agony increased: he moaned, gnashed his teeth, and one
could hear his huge body shifting restlessly under the blanket.
“What is it that pains Judas so? Who has set fire to his body? He gives
his son unto the dogs, he yields his daughter into the hands of robbers
for defilement. But is not the heart of Judas tender? Go away, Thomas,
go away, thou fool. Leave Judas alone, strong, daring, beautiful
Judas.”