Джеймс Миченер - The Source

Then Jael, twenty-one years old, explained to her father, “Abraham’s right. We can have no peace with the Byzantines. The tax collectors …”

“Father Eusebius promised me that taxes would be lowered.”

Jael laughed. “They’ve been increased. Somebody has to pay for that church.”

“But …”

“Wait till you see the new tax on your mill,” she said contemptuously. “The soldiers grow more arrogant. You saw what they did this morning.”

“But the boy had set the warehouse on fire.”

“I set the fire,” Abraham said boldly. His wife took his hand and held it during the rest of the conversation.

“You?” Rabbi Asher asked, and the incredulity in his voice betrayed his low opinion of his son-in-law. Were callow fools like this challenging Byzantium?

“And with the coming of Father Eusebius,” Jael continued, “the repressions have speeded up.”

“No!” her father protested. “Father Eusebius wants us to live together peacefully.”

“Yes! Yes! On his terms. He is very gentle when Menahem leaves the groats mill and goes to work for him. If our people stand by quietly when their old homes are destroyed he’ll build them new ones out of town. He does nothing wrong, but those who do wrong are encouraged by his presence.”

“We shall not halt our war against the Byzantines,” Abraham repeated stolidly, and Rabbi Asher, looking at the almost brutish young man, realized for the first time that a younger generation was on the move in Makor, one over which he had little control.

While this gloomy discovery was being made in the rabbi’s home, a meeting of mystical significance was under way in the austere room occupied by Father Eusebius, who sat behind his rough-hewn desk while Menahem occupied the chair facing him. “Tell me again, slowly and with no exaggeration,” the Spaniard said.

In his work with Father Eusebius, Menahem had come to respect the cool efficiency of the Spaniard. He had watched him weigh facts, such as which houses to tear down, and reach a conclusion on the evidence. And once he spoke, the dark-haired priest was willing to abide by the responsibility he had taken upon himself. Menahem found him a just, courageous man, dedicated and hard-working, not easy to know but solid like a rock when known. He now stared at Menahem, deep lines in his cheeks, a cold but just face resting on his left hand. “Slowly and with no lies,” he repeated.

Menahem swallowed and said, “My father married a woman who already had a husband.”

“He sinned,” Father Eusebius said. “Grievously he sinned.”

“That made me a bastard.”

“Without question.”

“I could not be a Jew nor take part in any services.” Menahem hesitated and said a boyish thing, recalling an old hurt, “When I was thirteen I was not allowed to read the Torah.”

Father Eusebius made no comment, so Menahem continued, “I could not marry. I could not pray. At Tverya the rabbis told me what to do.” He could not continue.

“Go ahead,” the Spaniard said, his face betraying neither compassion nor concern.

“They told me … I myself could never be saved. But if I stole ten drachmas’ worth …” The words came with great pain, for they recalled the spiritual crisis he had suffered when Jael was married. “They would arrest me, sell me into slavery, marry me to another slave, later set us both free, and while we would not be restored, our children would be.”

For some time Father Eusebius sat silent, reviewing this incredible tale which he had refused to believe the first time he heard it. He dropped his hand from his chin and gradually lowered his austere head until no part of his face was visible, and Menahem realized he was praying. Then slowly he looked up at the would-be Jew and tears of compassion stood in his eyes. As if from the depth of a great basilica he said in a whisper, “The salvation you sought, Menahem, has always been at hand.” He turned and pointed at the crucifix. “When He ascended that cross, when He gave His life for you and me, He took upon Himself the burden of sin that you have been carrying. The moment you accept Him, Menahem, you are free.”

The priest rose, came to where the Jew was sitting and knelt beside him on the beaten earth. Placing his hand in Menahem’s he brought him to his knees also, and in this position the Spaniard prayed, “Jesus Christ, our Lord, smile upon this young man Menahem ben Yohanan, who has carried such a dreadful sin upon his shoulders. Not his sin, Jesus, but the original sin of the world. Smile upon him and transfer from his shoulders to Yours the burden which he has so manfully borne.”

In the quiet room a miracle took place. The crushing weight under which Menahem had struggled drifted from his back, the clouds of obscurity from his mind. He felt the actual burden slipping from him, as if he had been carrying three sacks of groats, and he began to sob with joy, as if he were a child to whom something fine had happened.

“And now, Lord Jesus,” the Spaniard continued, “invite this outcast into Your brotherhood. Tell him, now, that he is free to join us.”

The priest turned on his knees to face Menahem, then rose and with extended hands drew the young Jew to his feet. “You need be outcast no more,” the priest cried joyfully, and he embraced Menahem as if he were his son. Seating the young man on the chair, he returned to his own, and with a countenance radiant with love, with the gray at his temples shining like silver in the light of the oil lamps, he said, “Rabbi Asher was right in all he did, Menahem. There is sin in the world, and your father created more by his willful actions. Sin was indeed upon you, too, and you were properly an outcast. But the old law that kept this sin permanently upon your soul is abrogated.” He saw that the young man did not understand this word, but he was inspired and hurried on. “The harsh old law is no more and in its place has come the new law of love and redemption. If this night you tell me that you are willing to join Christ, your sin will vanish forever.”

Finally Menahem spoke: “I can join your church?”

“You will build it. It will be yours.”

“I helped build the synagogue, but it was never mine.”

“The church of Jesus Christ is available without restraints.”

“I can sing with you? Pray with you?” He did not see Father Eusebius nod agreement, for he was looking at the floor. In a soft whisper he asked, “Would you allow me to marry?”

“Any girl in our church would be pleased to marry with you, Menahem,” and the priest led the young Jew to the crucifix, before which the Spaniard kneeled in the dust, drawing Menahem with him, and after the two had prayed for some moments Eusebius said, “Lord Jesus Christ, I bring You tonight Your servant Menahem ben Yohanan, who offers his soul and his life to Your care.” He nudged Menahem.

“Lord Jesus Christ,” the outcast said in a whisper. “No longer can I bear my portion of sin. Accept me.” His voice choked and on a mighty impulse he prostrated himself full length before the crucifix. “I cannot bear it any longer … I cannot,” he repeated many times. “Oh, Jesus, help me.”

When Menahem had lain thus for some time, Father Eusebius rose, went to him and raised him to his feet. When the handsome young man, ashen-faced like a ghost, stood before him, the Spaniard kissed him twice and said, “Tonight you are Menahem ben Yohanan. Three days from now when you receive the sacrament of baptism and the mass you shall become Mark, and your new life begins from that moment.” He gave his first local convert his blessing and sent him into the night, a man whose once unsupportable burden no longer existed.

For some time Father Eusebius had been aware that he had a chance of winning Menahem as his first convert, but he had not anticipated what was to happen the following morning. Before work started on the basilica Menahem knocked at the priest’s door, and when the Spaniard rose from his prayers he found not only Menahem awaiting him but Yohanan as well, and on a less emotional level than he had used with Menahem he rephrased the hopeful message of his church: “You have been a grievous sinner, Yohanan, and your sin has reached down to your children and your children’s children. You are powerless to erase this sin, but He,” and he pointed to the crucifix standing out like a light from the bare wall, “He came personally to save you. Accept Him, place your burden on Him, and you shall be free.”