Lars Sveen - Children of God

“I’m in you,” he says. “I’ll never leave you, I hear your story. Even if it’s your own story, it’s ours, it’s the story of our land and our people.”

“Master,” says Mary, “I’m not sure I understand.”

Jesus takes his eyes off Peter and looks up at Mary. “Sorry,” he says. “I made a mistake, I was elsewhere.” Then he starts speaking with them again, and Peter is left sitting there with his hands in his lap, feeling a strange warmth from his fingers.

“You’re with us, you’re with me,” he whispers.

Andrew’s left his side and is with Anna now. She gives his brother strength, he’s sure of that; Andrew’s changed since they found each other. Peter gets up and makes his way between the others until he comes to Judas, and Judas smiles. He takes one of Peter’s hands, and Judas’s fingers are warm too. Somebody claps their hands, everybody falls silent, and Judas suddenly starts singing. He has the most beautiful voice, as high as a bird’s song, and then everybody joins in. Peter can hear his own voice, and Andrew’s, the voices swimming together in the room. Judas’s voice is so high, it’s as if it soared above the others, as if it were the only voice that could still sing songs the way they all learned to sing them.

He doesn’t know where he is. He was standing in the middle of all of them. He was singing, holding hands, and then he was out in the night, where everything is silent and full of noises at the same time. He must have walked out of the city, beyond the city walls, as there are trees and bushes, and a faint smell of flowers.

Peter sits down, his fingers still filled with a peculiar warmth. Once again he hears a hyena howling, he remembers the last few days, and his fingers twitch. They begin to move, crawling up his stomach, up his chest, his neck, pulling at his lips. He sits there in the dark, feeling the fingers open his mouth and crawl in. They enter his mouth, pushing their way down his throat, and he lifts them back out.

“It’s you, Master,” says Peter, but nobody answers. “I know it’s you, Master, I’ll tell you a story.

“There was a man who could see through everything,” Peter whispers. “He found the fish in the sea because he could see through the water where they swam. But when he pulled the fish up, he could see through them too, and he said it wasn’t right to take their lives. He began building houses, but when they were finished and other people were living in them, he could see through the houses and said it wasn’t right that people like that should live in his houses. Then he started to grow fruit and vegetables to sell at the market in Bethsaida. He sold them to everybody, and everybody bought them from him, as he could see right through them and knew what kind of food people needed. But one day, some soldiers came who’d been drinking the evening before, and they started bothering the man. He told them to go away and not to bother an honest man. Then one of the guards grabbed him and called him a thief. They punched and kicked him and trampled the food he was selling, they dragged him out of the city and threw him at the side of the road. The man went up to the mountains, where he met people who believed in a different world. He joined them in their struggle against the occupiers, and when they were cut down, one by one, he could see through them all, and he could see that they were all the same, even the enemies, there was no difference between them. So he dropped his weapon and let himself be cut down.

“Two children found him lying in one of the valleys not far from Bethsaida. The youngest child didn’t recognize him at first, but the eldest saw that it was their father. They dragged him away and buried him not far from where he fell.”

The fingers are warm against his neck.

“There’s nothing they can’t kill,” says Peter.

He hears the hyena again, and it doesn’t sound like a cry or a howl anymore, it sounds like laughter.

They all feel heavy when they wake up in the morning. There’s a smell of rot, and the sky outside is gray. Peter gets up and wipes drool from his face. Next to him, Andrew and Mary are helping two young boys up on their feet. The boys say sorry and ask for forgiveness, but Andrew just ruffles their hair and tells them to stop it, go outside and get some fresh air. Judas has fetched some water and is washing it over the floor. Jesus is nowhere to be seen. It’s cool inside, but Peter’s sweating. He presses his fingers against his stomach. They’re cold.

“Come on, brother,” says Andrew, putting his hand around him. “We’ve got to tidy up, it’s a sorry sight in here. You’re a bit of a sorry sight too, go and get washed.”

After they’ve tidied up and helped each other to wash their faces and hands, they all sit down on benches or on the floor. Thomas tries to speak but is silenced. John wants somebody to go into the city with him to see what’s happening at Passover, but Peter asks them to stay. Mary agrees, nobody gets up, and so they sit there. It’s only when Peter slowly gets up to find some water to drink that Jesus appears among them. Peter has no idea where the Lord appeared from, which room or door he came from.

“Brothers and sisters,” says Jesus, “we’re going up to the Temple.”

Peter closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he meets Andrew’s gaze. His brother’s standing there with his arms around Anna, and he seems younger now, as if the last few days and hours hadn’t happened, as if time weren’t added to his age but subtracted from it, and it’s a very youthful Andrew standing there now, looking at his big brother. Peter turns toward Jesus.

“Master,” he says, “we stand together, if something should happen, we’ll be there. But there are guards and soldiers, they’ll seize us immediately.”

Jesus says, “I don’t know what will happen.” And then more quietly: “I don’t know.” And then louder: “Believe in God and believe in me.”

“Listen to our Master,” says Thomas, but his voice is faint, and he coughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. Mary tells everybody to get ready, and they start to stir, hugging and kissing each other, praising the Lord.

Peter goes over to Andrew and Anna. He puts his hands around his brother and pulls him close.

“Andrew,” he whispers, “if we get separated, we’ll meet in Capernaum.” Peter looks at him, waiting for a sign that he’s got the message. Andrew nods, and he and Anna leave Peter and head out to the children playing outside. Peter stands there while everybody around him darts back and forth, their voices like insects in a jar. Jesus stands next to Peter and puts his hands on his shoulders.

“I know you follow me, Simon Peter,” he says, “but this time you must follow the others if they take me.”

Peter opens his mouth, but Jesus puts a hand over his lips.

“I want to be there with you,” says Peter.

“No,” says Jesus. “If anybody’s there with me, it can’t be you. Nobody should be there with me.”

Jesus leans forward and kisses Peter on the cheek. He kisses Peter and walks away from him to Mary. He says something in her ear. Mary shakes her head and is about to speak, but Jesus puts his fingers over her mouth, leans forward to kiss her, and walks on, this time to Thomas. Then Mary looks at Peter, but Peter turns away, walks toward the doorway, goes out, and stands there just outside, beneath a gray sky that looks like a veil hanging over the world.

“Lord,” he says, but he has no more words, so he says “Lord” again, and once again: “Lord.” Others push behind him, and everybody comes outside. They crowd around, talking softly, whispering to each other, before they suddenly fall silent and stand still as Jesus steps out from the crowd. He walks among them, seeming tired, worn out. Peter doesn’t know what, but something’s different. Jesus doesn’t stop, he walks between them, and they follow him up toward the Temple Mount and toward the Temple.