Roger Curtis - Lights in a Western Sky

‘You’d never met them?’

‘They never came to Sepphoris, to my knowledge.’ Thomas smiled. ‘There was confusion, I remember, because the only vacant seat was where Jesus must have sat. In my ignorance I took it.’

‘They still hadn’t guessed – that you were Jesus’ brother?’

‘Why should they? Then a strange thing happened. They offered me food – fish it was – and as we began to eat it was as if a great burden had been lifted and a feeling of joy entered the room. Their faces became transformed… as if…’

‘And then?’

‘I couldn’t cope. I’m afraid I got up and left.’

‘Oh, Oh, Thomas. You could have told them. Instead you dug an even greater hole for yourself.’

‘I was pleased to be back in Sepphoris. In the real world of workshops and animals and… real people going about their ordinary business.’

‘And it never occurred to you to think how it all might have happened?’

‘Of course it did. I’d seen it before, you see. Don’t you remember? In our youth it was his party trick. He’d gather us together and go round tapping our shoulders and somehow – I’ve no idea how – he’d seed our minds with an idea, or an instruction. Then, later, something would trigger that idea. One mealtime we closed our eyes and when we opened them – to his delight – there was our sister Salome with bright red hair. You don’t remember?’

‘Salome wasn’t the only one.’

‘Later,’ Thomas said, ‘I came to realise he put his talent to better use – helping people to come to terms with pain and disabilities. Things like that. It was impressive.’

‘A gift from God, would you say?’

‘It must have been.’

‘I think so too.’ He turned to Mary, ‘Would you pass that dish there?’ Mary placed the dish in front of him and he peered into it . ‘That fish looks delicious.’ Mary, becoming agitated, began to re-arrange the cutlery aimlessly.

‘What troubles you, Mary?’ Thomas asked.

‘Not now, Thomas.’

‘I think…’

‘I said, not now.’

‘No. I’ll tell him,’ Mary said aggressively. ‘It was because of what I was. They would never accept me. He would tell them to, but when his back was turned…’

‘Mary!’

‘And when he came,’ she said, pointing at Thomas, ‘they all saw. Except me, pushed upstairs by that oaf…’

‘Mary!’

‘And the worst of it. After he’d gone they couldn’t be bothered to tell me. If his wounds had healed, whether the holes in his forehead… The look on their smug faces as they went out.’

‘Mary, you had no reason to feel excluded.’

‘They relished it!’

‘You were the favoured ones, you and John. Were you not the very first to see him?’

Mary pointed at Thomas. ‘He’s shown me I wasn’t.’

‘Mary, Thomas has shown you no such thing.’

‘James,’ Thomas said. ‘You’re confusing us.’

‘You, Thomas, wonder why I asked you here. What was it that I realised when I met…’

‘…your mysterious fisherman in Galilee? Who was he? What did he say?’

‘Who he was is insignificant. What he told me was… that he’d seen you, Thomas.’

‘Me?’

‘You went there from time to time, did you not?’

‘We had work there – repairing the quayside.’

‘And got to know the locals.’

‘Some of them.’

And when the Twelve fled Jerusalem and returned to their villages along the shore where they would have known everybody and everybody knew them and what had happened here in Jerusalem… And you saw them on the beach, and invited them to join your meal…’

‘It was a… momentary encounter.’

‘Possibly. But some thought it confirmed what they still doubted… that Jesus was alive.’

‘Including John the priest…’

‘…who reported it to me when I came here, just before he left for Ephesus.’

‘And gave me hope,’ Mary interjected.

‘Yes. Now look, our food will be getting cold. Pass me your plates.’ James spooned some of the fish stew into their bowls. ‘They say the fish takes only a day and a half to reach us from Galilee.’

‘Surely it’s quicker from the sea.’

‘But then it wouldn’t be the same, would it? Now, let’s taste it together.’

They each raised a portion of fish to their lips. Suddenly Mary dropped her spoon, stretched out her hands and grasped Thomas’ wrists, staring at them intently. Then she fell backwards in her chair and scuttled, whimpering, to the far corner of the room. Thomas, distraught by what he saw, was staring at his wrists. James looked on, concerned and thoughtful.

‘You went too far, James.’

‘I think you should make your peace with Mary.’

Thomas walked across to Mary, helped her to her feet and guided her back to the table. Once more Mary took Thomas’s hands, this time gently, and examined them, turning them over with her own.

‘They’ve gone,’ she said’

‘What have gone, Mary?’

‘Where the nails were. Just for a moment.’

‘Then be thankful that you’ve seen him. Now, I think you should rest.’

James rose, and Mary walked slowly from the room. After the door had closed James said, ‘I have a task for you, Thomas – a kind of penance I suppose – but I think it will give you some satisfaction.’ He left the room and returned carrying an open box. ‘You see, since I came here I’ve been trying to recall our brother’s teachings. What he actually said, human memory being so fallible. So I’ve been asking those who knew him to write down what they remember… and they have. He took out handfuls of the sheets and spread them on the table. They’ll have you crying, Thomas, I tell you.’

Thomas took up one sheet after another and read them. ‘Look at this. Blessed are the poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven. Remember that? And this. They showed Jesus a gold coin and said to him, Caesar’s men demand taxes from us. He said to them, give Caesar what belongs to Caesar, give God what belongs to God, and give me what is mine.’

James smiled. ‘I was asked to interpret that only yesterday.’

Thomas continued reading: ‘His disciples said to him, is circumcision beneficial or not? He said to them, if it were beneficial their father would beget them already circumcised from their mother.’

‘Oh,’ said James, ‘not sure about that one. But Paul would be glad to hear it.’

‘And here,’ Thomas continued: ‘The disciples said to Jesus, we know that you will depart from us, who is to be our leader? Jesus said to them, wherever you are, go to James the Righteous for whose sake heaven and earth came into being.’

‘Praise indeed! But it took a while to happen.’

‘And so on.’

‘Enough I think, don’t you? You say you’ll be leaving tomorrow?’

‘In the morning.’

‘Time to walk up to the second tomb? To take a look? I don’t believe it’s ever been disturbed.’

‘No… no, I don’t think so.’

‘And if I were to tell you for a fact it’s empty?’

‘Then I would tell you for a fact that that’s good enough for me.’

James moved to the portico, where Thomas joined him. ‘The light has left Golgotha. How splendid the city looks.’

‘I wonder if it will always be so.’

‘Who knows.’

They sometimes ask – the thick black line of death having been crossed – why I would wish to revisit people and places so integral to my demise. Did expiation work? Or, in the great scheme of things, does it matter at all? I leave that to others of us to judge. Perhaps it is that we just need to carry over with us a compelling story.