Lars Sveen - Children of God

Simon stopped and turned toward me. He didn’t say anything and just stood there, looking at me. When I went over to him, he took hold of my shoulder and pulled me close to him.

“Little brother,” he murmured.

The rebels gathered together. They were to stay the night with us before we parted in the morning. One of them came toward us. He seemed older than the others and had a stick that he prodded in the ground ahead of him. When he reached us, I could see that his eyes were gray and white, like a fish’s eyes.

“Greetings, Simon Peter and Andrew,” he said. “I’m blind, and yet I see many things. I wish to talk with you, Peter, if you have time for an old man.”

Simon greeted him, as did I. The old man passed his hand over Simon’s face, and then mine. Even if he was blind, it looked like he was staring straight at us.

“I’m what stays in the shadows while the light falls elsewhere,” he said. “You were harsh to them, Simon Peter.”

I stared at the old man’s hands: they were pale, his skin was blotchy. How old was he, and how was he able to travel around holding weapons? Simon seemed to be wondering the same thing.

“You’ve lived a long life,” he said. “What are you doing with a group like this? How did the commander and his men talk you into it?”

The old man didn’t answer, he just smiled faintly, and then said: “You mustn’t be so hard on them, think about all their sacrifices.”

“It’s not the right way,” Simon told him. “It won’t lead to anything other than more sacrifices and more loss. If armed groups win out, or if the rulers carry on in their way, our land will be destroyed.”

“How do you know?” the old man asked. “Maybe it’s the only way.”

Simon began to protest, but the old man waved his stick, and Simon stopped.

“Listen to me,” said the old man. “Listen to me, Simon Peter. I can’t get close to your master, I won’t even try, this is as close as I can get. You’re here in front of me. I’m going to tell you a story. I’ve tried to be someone who changes the world, I’m still trying. Did you believe yourself when you believed your master? I say that doubting or giving up is natural. I’d like to have a word with you. Could we be alone for a minute? I’m hardly ever sure, I’m doubting even now. Can you believe that? I give you my word.”

The old man’s voice was like a soft incantation. I tried to open my mouth, but it was caught shut. Even Simon was quiet and didn’t move. I stood there, still in Simon’s arms as the old man spoke to us. What his story was about I can’t remember. It’s almost gone, it was never for my ears. I remember only his voice, it was everywhere, and him talking about Jesus’s death. It felt as if something were climbing inside me, into my mouth, down my throat, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was about to retch, I was having trouble breathing. How long it lasted, I don’t know, but after a while, the old man fell silent, and Simon moved.

“Get away,” Simon told him.

“You know how it’ll end,” the old man said, lifting up his hands and holding them out to Simon. “Take my hands,” he said.

“You can’t,” said Simon.

But the old man was so close, he took Simon’s hands, held them in his, and Simon immediately began to shake. I had to hold him up as he was starting to collapse, and I struck out at the old man, making him lose his grip on Simon.

“Little brother,” said the old man, turning to me.

“Stay away,” Simon whispered, and the old man stared at him with his pale eyes. He tilted his head and said, “It’s happening again, what is this? Where is it coming from?”

Then he began to leave us, not walking back in the direction he’d come from, but out into the night, talking away to himself. I was about to shout, as my voice wasn’t caught any longer, but Simon stopped me. “No,” he said. “Let him go.” And then he collapsed on the ground. I couldn’t hold him up.

“Simon?” I said. “Simon, are you there?”

I knelt down and put his head between my legs.

“What happened?” said Simon.

“He touched you,” I said.

“Andrew,” he whispered, “don’t tell them about him. Will you promise me? None of the others should hear about this. We won’t spread what he’s trying to make us think. Don’t tell anybody what you heard about Jesus here this evening. Promise me.”

I couldn’t put into words what had happened. The blind old man had gone, and I was already struggling to remember what had been said. Now, several years later, it’s only a vague memory. Sometimes I think it must have been a bad dream. But I did as Simon told me. I’ve never told anybody about it.

“It’s coming,” Simon told me softly. “It will happen, as the old man said, all of it. But we’ll make it into something great, something beautiful.”

“Simon?” I said, but he hushed me, holding a finger up to his lips. Then he pointed up into the sky. I looked up there and felt something tap on my face.

“Rain,” I said.

“Andrew,” Simon whispered, “my little brother. You’re grown now. You’ve found Anna. I’m telling you this so you’ll remember it. Are you listening?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Everything they’ve been saying this evening, everything they’re trying to make us believe. That’s how they got Father to join them, that’s how they left him to die.”

Later that evening, when I was with Anna again, I asked her to be quiet. I asked her to listen to the rain and the way it spread out everywhere. I sat down next to her and put my face against her hair.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Do you remember what I said that evening about the rain?”

“You will be the rain,” she said.

“I will be the rain,” I said, “that nobody fears.”

As I lay awake that night, I saw for the first time Simon get up in the dark and walk off, away from us. I followed him. The sound of him ahead of me, stumbling, stopping, and then the way he started speaking. At first I thought he’d met somebody, that they were talking to each other, but I gradually realized that he was alone. He was talking to himself. His voice came murmuring through the night, telling stories about our father, about what happened to him. I went back and lay down. I couldn’t sleep. I tried to look up into the night, trying to draw a pattern between the stars. I only shut my eyes when I heard Simon coming back.

Those rebels left us alone after that. We were welcomed by people who didn’t practice violence, the ones who worked and lived under the Lord’s countenance. We kept meeting new people who wanted to follow the Master. They were good times; I remember them fondly.

But things changed. Something or other came over us all. It’s difficult to put it in words. I might see something moving out there where the ground meets the sky. When I blinked, it was gone. Other times I might hear sounds from up in the clouds, but there was nothing there. We didn’t sing as much in the evenings anymore. Several of us were whispering that they were waiting for us, that soldiers would come in the night.

When we were going through Samaria and were approaching Judea, we were met one day by some men working in a field. They were thin, and they looked sick. We hadn’t seen so much of it in Galilee, but people here were worn out, frightened. They complained of the taxes levied by the occupying powers, they complained about bands of thieves. They told stories of soldiers yelling at their doors in the morning and taking all the men who were home, young and old.

Simon appeared sad at that time. He would be awake at night, and I would get up in the dark and find him among the trees. He sat there talking to himself. His hands started to tremble: he tried to hide it, but I’m his brother, I noticed it. I spoke to Anna about it, and she said we were all frightened.