Lars Sveen - Children of God

Now that I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that every one of us has so many stories. It’s up to us to understand how they come together; it’s impossible to see the pattern. I try to understand, Anna tries to understand. But everything moves, like the desert sand in the wind.

There were so many of us, I couldn’t keep track of all our stories. I once heard somebody telling the story of Clopas of Sepphoris, who was close to Thomas. It was said that the reason he was missing fingers from his left hand was that his shield made of weak planks had been shattered by a soldier in fighting up in the mountains. His fingers had been cut right off, but Clopas had killed the soldier and got out of it alive. Now he was here with us, minus four fingers and a little wiser for it, as Simon used to say. Simon had little time for people who took up arms. I said he should show respect for those who’d laid down their swords and shields to follow the Master.

“A little smarter than they were before,” said Simon, “still doesn’t make them very smart.”

One time when we were camped in the valley below Mount Gilboa, we noticed a group of people approaching us. They were carrying weapons, and some of us feared they were a band of thieves. But when the group reached us, they greeted us and said they came in peace. The small group’s leader introduced himself as their commander.

“What you see in front of you now are only a few of us, but there are many of us,” he said. “We’re like the shadows: our numbers only grow when the great, strong sun shines more weakly.”

“And when it’s night, then there are none of you. You disappear into the darkness,” said Simon. “You’re welcome to be here with us,” he continued, “but please put your weapons away.”

“If that is your wish, we’ll lay down everything,” the commander said. “But that won’t be easy for us to do, as what we’re carrying can’t be separated from our hands like any tool you can put down at the end of the day. Ours are tools of liberation.”

“Well,” said Simon, “you can liberate yourselves over there, and when you’re finished, you’re welcome to sit with us.”

Then the commander became annoyed and asked if this was the prophet he’d heard about. Simon told him that he wasn’t a prophet, and that we didn’t want to have weapons where we were.

“It is the Prince of Peace we have among us,” Simon continued. “If someone were to see us with weapons, that would be another reason for enemies to come after us.”

The commander nodded, turned to his group, and told them to lay down all their weapons. Simon gave Mary a signal, and they went off together to find the Master. But he was nowhere to be found, and nobody knew where he’d gone. Mary thought he’d gone off alone, like he sometimes did. Simon asked me to take somebody with me to look for him. Just then the Master emerged from the descending evening darkness and walked into the growing light of the bonfires.

“Lord,” said Simon, “there are rebels here, and they want to talk with you.”

The Master called for his closest followers, gesturing at me to come too. The rest carried on preparing things for the night. Our evening meal was being made, wood was being gathered, prayer groups were being formed, and the sick were being seen to and cared for. It was decided who would keep watch through the night.

We sat down together and shared the leftovers we’d kept from the day before. The rebels ate all they were given, but none of them spoke. The Master turned to the commander and asked him why they’d come. What did they want?

“We’ve heard stories about you,” the commander said. “We’ve heard what you’ve done, what you’ve said. We’re both fighting against the same powers, against the army of darkness. I’ve heard that you’re the Prince of Peace, so I’ve come to you to find out more.”

“The Prince of Peace?” said the Master, turning toward Simon and the others. “Have you heard that one before? The Prince of Peace, I haven’t been called that before, have I?”

A few people sniggered, but the Master apologized and said he didn’t mean to make fun of them. Then he told them who we were, and what we were doing. When the commander started asking questions, the Master let Thomas, John, and Mary answer. He sat still, listening. Simon drew in the sand with a twig.

“You can see for yourselves the way our people are being killed, the way the occupiers and those who collaborate with them are pillaging the country,” the commander said. “They’re beasts, monsters, destroying everything that honors God and our own history. We’ll be like livestock to the slaughter if we don’t resist them. So I say that we must stand together and fight. We must stand together and drive them into the sea.”

“Lay down your weapons,” the Master said. “Then we can stand together. If you want to join us, we’ll welcome you.”

The commander fell silent. He took out a small leather canteen, drank from it, and then spat behind him.

“We’ve always borne arms,” he said. “None of our people became kings without bearing arms, and none will become kings without them.”

“Where are those kings now?” the Master asked. “Where’s their kingdom?”

“Where are you after such a long time?” the commander replied. “Where are you now, out here in the wilds, with no crown as far as I can see, surrounded by whores and lepers.”

Several of us started to protest, and I was about to get up, but the Master silenced us. The commander hadn’t finished. He looked at all of us, and then his eyes fixed on the Master again.

“Who are you?” he said. “You’re just yet another band of people dreaming about wandering through the wilderness. You’re still dreaming of Moses. It’s time to wake up. I don’t want to be there watching when the enemy comes after you.”

“Where will you be then?” Simon asked, making me jump. Simon had been sitting there quietly the whole time, and this was the first thing he’d said. “Where will you be when they come?” he went on. “Will you be up in the mountains, in caves, will you be sitting there, carving your own rules into stone tablets?”

“Who are you?” the commander asked. “Who is this?”

“This is Simon Peter,” the Master said. “He’s one of the people closest to me.”

“If he’s close to you, then I’ll let this rest, but what kind of a way is that to speak to us? We’ve been fighting, we are still fighting for our people. We’re fighting for God, we don’t want foreign gods or enemy banners. Do you know how many we’ve lost? Do you know how many have fallen in our struggle?”

“But what for?” Simon cut in. “What did they die for? What happened to them, how can you add something after their deaths?”

“I can’t add anything,” the commander responded. “That’s up to God, but I can honor them, I can keep the struggle going, like we do every day.”

“And then you’ll die,” said Simon. “You’re no heroes. There are no heroes, only people. In this world, you can only be a person who carries on, or a person who’s torn away.”

At this, the commander got up, and all the men with him got back on their feet.

“Listen to what our Master’s saying,” said Simon. “Lay down your weapons. The army of darkness is so great that it will consume you all.”

“Peter,” said the Master.

Simon got up and looked at the Master. “I’m finished here,” he said. “Lord, I don’t want anything to do with these people, they want war, they’re living off the same deaths as the soldiers and the guards in this land.”

Then he left us. I got up and followed him. I heard them go on speaking behind us.

“Simon,” I said, “wait, what’s wrong with you? How can you talk to them like that?”