Nikos Kazantzakis: The Last Temptation of Christ

“What can I say, Nathanael,” said a tiny old man lost in the middle of the pile. “What can I say, brother! It’s I who have to answer for your joining us!”

Jesus shook his head sympathetically and took the hand of this tiny old man they called Philip. “I fell hopelessly in love with you, Philip, best of all shepherds, because you had no sheep. You possessed only the shepherd’s crook and you herded the air. At night you took out the winds and put them to pasture. In your imagination you lighted fires, in your imagination you set up the great cauldrons, boiled the milk and sent it flowing from the top of the mountain down to the plain, so that the poor could drink. All your wealth was within your heart. Outside: poverty, hootings, solitude and hunger. That is what it means to be my disciple! And now… Philip, Philip, best of all shepherds, how you’ve fallen! You longed, alas, for real sheep, sheep whose wool, whose flesh, you could grasp in your hand-and you perished!”

“I get hungry,” Philip replied. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Think of God and you shall be filled!” Jesus answered, and then suddenly his heart hardened again.

He turned to a hunched-over old man who had collapsed into the watering trough and remained there, shivering. He lifted the rags which covered him, pushed aside his eyebrows, but could not understand who he was. When he searched under the hair, however, he found a large ear with an age-old broken quill behind it. He laughed.

“Welcome to the immense ear,” he said, greeting him. “Huge, erect, full of hairs, it used to quiver like a rabbit’s, all fear, curiosity and hunger. Welcome to the inky fingers and the inkstand heart! Do you still fill papers with blots, Matthew, my scribe? The quill, completely broken, is still behind your ear. Did you wage war using this as your lance?”

“Why do you jeer at me,” said the other with a bitter taste on his lips. “Will you never stop ridiculing us? Think of the magnificence with which I began to write your life and times. I too would have become immortal, along with you. And now, the peacock has lost his feathers. It wasn’t a peacock; it was a chicken. What a shame I worked so hard!”

Jesus suddenly felt his knees go slack. He bowed his head; but then, quickly, angrily, he raised it and pointed his finger threateningly at Matthew.

“Quiet!” he said. “How dare you!”

An emaciated, cross-eyed old man appeared between Nathanael’s legs and chuckled. Jesus turned, saw him and recognized him immediately.

“Thomas, my seven-month babe, welcome! Where did you sow your teeth? What did you do with the two hairs you had on your scalp? And from what goat did you uproot that greasy little beard which hangs from your chin? Two-faced, seven-eyed, all-cunning Thomas, is it you?”

“In person! Only the teeth are missing-they fell out along the way-and the two hairs. Everything else is in order.”

“The mind?”

“A true cock. It mounts the dung heap knowing well enough It isn’t the one who brings the sun, but it crows nevertheless every morning and brings it-because it knows the right time to crow.

“And did you fight too, hero of heroes, to save Jerusalem?”

“Me fight? Am I stupid? I played the prophet.”

“The prophet? So the tiny ant-mind grew wings? Did God blow upon you?”

“What has God got to do with this? My intellect, all by itself, found the secret.”

“What secret?”

“What being a prophet means. Your holiness also knew it once, but I think you’ve forgotten.”

“Well, sly Thomas, remind me-it might come in handy again. What is a prophet?”

“A prophet is the one who, when everyone else despairs, hopes. And when everyone else hopes, he despairs. You’ll ask me why. It’s because he has mastered the Great Secret: that the Wheel turns.

“It’s a dangerous thing for a man to talk with you, Thomas,” Jesus said, winking at him. “Inside your tiny, quick-moving crossed eyes I perceive a tail, two horns-and a spark of burning light.”

“True light burns, Rabbi-you know that, but you pity mankind. The heart takes pity: that’s why the world finds itself in darkness. The mind does not take pity: that’s why the world is on fire… Ah, you nod to me to be still. You’re right; I’ll be still. We mustn’t uncover such secrets in front of these simple souls. None of them has any endurance, except one: him!”

“Who is that?”

Thomas dragged himself as far as the street door and pointed, without touching him, to a colossus who stood on the threshold like a withered, lightning-charred tree. The roots of his hair and beard were still red.

“Him!” he said, shrinking back. “Judas! He’s the only one who still holds himself erect. Take care, Rabbi. He’s full of vigor, and unyielding. Speak to him gently, ingratiate yourself with him. Look, his obstinate skull is steaming with rage.”

“Well, then, to avoid getting bitten let’s catch this desert lion by sending a tame lion after him. Have we descended to this!” He raised his voice. “Judas, my brother, Time is a royal man-eating tiger. He is not satisfied with men: he also devours cities, kingdoms and (forgive me, God) even gods! But you he has not touched. Your rage has refused to boil away; no, you have never made your peace with the world. I still perceive the unyielding knife by your breast, and in your eyes hate, wrath and hope, the great fires of youth… Welcome!”

“Judas, can’t you hear?” murmured John, who had collapsed at Jesus’ feet. He was unrecognizable, with a white beard and two deep wounds on his cheeks and neck. “Can’t you hear, Judas? The master is greeting you. Greet him in return!”

“He’s pigheaded and obstinate like a mule,” said Peter. “He bites his lips to keep himself from talking.”

But Jesus had fixed his eyes on his old savage companion and was speaking to him sweetly. “Judas, the chattering messenger birds passed over the roof of my house and let fall the news, which then dropped into my yard. It seems you took to the mountains and made war against tyrants, both native and foreign. Then you went down to Jerusalem, seized the traitorous Sadducees, tied red ribbons around their necks and slaughtered them like lambs on the altar of the God of Israel. You’re a great, gloomy, desperate soul, Judas. Since the day we separated you haven’t seen a single day of gladness. Judas, my brother, I’ve missed you very much. Welcome!”

John’s terrified eyes regarded Judas, who was still biting his lips to prevent himself from speaking. “Dense smoke never ceases to curl up over his head,” he murmured, and he dragged himself back to the others.

“Take care, Rabbi,” said Peter. “He looks at you from every angle and weighs where he’s going to fall upon you first!”

“I’m speaking to you, Judas, my brother,” Jesus continued. “Can’t you hear? I greet you, but you don’t place your hand over your heart and say, ‘I’m glad to see you!’ Has Jerusalem’s suffering stricken you dumb? Do not bite your lips. You’re a man: bear up, don’t burst into lamentations. You did your duty bravely. The deep wounds in your arms, breast, face-all in front-proclaim that you fought like a lion. But what can a man do against God? Fighting to save Jerusalem, you were fighting against God. In his mind the holy city was reduced to ashes years ago.”

“Look, he’s come a step forward,” murmured Philip, frightened. “He’s sunk his head into his shoulders, like a bull. Now he’ll charge.”

“Let’s move to the sidelines, lads,” said Nathanael. “Now he’s raising his fist.”

“Rabbi, Rabbi, be careful!” called Martha and Mary, coming forward.

But Jesus tranquilly continued to speak. His lips, however, had begun to tremble just perceptibly.