THE SUN had reached the horizon and, brilliantly red, was about to set. At the opposite end of the sky a bluish-white glow had already appeared in the east. Soon the paschal moon would emerge, enormous and mute. The pale rays of the sun still entered the house, fell obliquely over Jesus’ thin face, caught the foreheads, noses and hands of the disciples and, going into the corner, caressed the old rabbi’s calm, happy, now-immortal face. Mary sat at her loom. She was in a deep shadow and no one saw the tears which ran peacefully down her cheeks and chin and onto the half-woven cloth. The house was still fragrant; Jesus’ fingertips dripped with myrrh.

Suddenly, while they sat there in silence, each one feeling more and more heart-stricken as the night approached, a swallow came like a sword-thrust through the window, circled three times over their heads, peeped joyously, turned again toward the sun and left like a dart. They hardly had time to see its white belly and serrated wings.

As though this was the mysterious sign he had been waiting for, Jesus rose. “The time has come,” he said.

He threw a lingering glance around him at the fireplace, the work tools, household utensils, lamp, water jug, loom; then at the four women-old Salome, Martha, Magdalene and Mary the weaver; lastly at the white old man who had entered the life everlasting.

“Farewell,” he said, waving his hands.

None of the three younger women was able to answer. But old Salome said, “Don’t look at us like that, my child. You seem to be saying goodbye to us forever.”

“Farewell,” Jesus repeated. He approached the women and placed his palm first on Magdalene’s hair, next on Martha’s. The weaver then rose and came near. She too bowed her head. They felt as though he were blessing and embracing them, as though he were going to take the three of them with him-always. But then all three abruptly began the dirge.

They went out into the yard. The disciples followed behind him. On the hedge of the yard, above the well, a honeysuckle had blossomed. Now that night had fallen, its perfume spilled forth. Jesus put out his hand, picked a flower and passed it between his teeth. May God give me strength, he prayed within his heart, may God give me strength to hold this tender flower between my teeth all through the great throes of crucifixion and not bite into it!

On the threshold of the street door he stopped once more, lifted his hand and cried in a deep voice, “Women, farewell!”

None of them answered. Their lamentations resounded in the courtyard.

Jesus took the lead, and the group started along the road to Jerusalem. The full moon rose from the mountains of Moab, the sun set behind the mountains of Judea. For a moment the two great jewels of the sky stopped and looked at each other. Then the one mounted, the other sank down.

Jesus nodded to Judas, who came and marched by his side. The two of them must have had secrets to exchange, for they spoke softly. Sometimes Jesus would lower his head, sometimes Judas; and each carefully weighed his words of response to the other, as though each word were a gold piece.

“I’m sorry, Judas, my brother,” Jesus said, “but it is necessary.”

“I’ve asked you before, Rabbi-is there no other way?”

“No, Judas, my brother. I too should have liked one; I too hoped and waited for one until now-but in vain. No, there is no other way. The end of the world is here. This world, this kingdom of the Devil, will be destroyed and the kingdom of heaven will come. I shall bring it. How? By dying. There is no other way. Do not quiver, Judas, my brother. In three days I shall rise again.”

“You tell me this in order to comfort me and make me able to betray you without rending my own heart. You say I have the endurance-you say it in order to give me strength. No, the closer we come to the terrible moment… no, Rabbi, I won’t be able to endure!”

“You will, Judas, my brother. God will give you the strength, as much as you lack, because it is necessary-it is necessary for me to be killed and for you to betray me. We two must save the world. Help me.”

Judas bowed his head. After a moment he asked, “If you had to betray your master, would you do it?”

Jesus reflected for a long time. Finally he said, “No, I do not think I would be able to. That is why God pitied me and gave me the easier task: to be crucified.”

Jesus took him by the arm and spoke to him softly, enticingly. “Do not abandon me; help me. Didn’t you speak to the high priest Caiaphas? The Temple slaves who’ll seize me, aren’t they ready and armed? Hasn’t everything happened just as we planned, Judas? Let us therefore celebrate the Passover tonight all together, and I shall give you a sign to rise and fetch them. The dark days are only three; they will pass by like lightning, and on the third day we shall exult and dance all together-at the resurrection!”

“Will the others know?” Judas asked, pointing with his thumb to the flock of disciples in back.

“I’ll tell them tonight. I don’t want them to offer any resistance when the soldiers and Levites seize me.”

Judas wrinkled his lips in contempt. “They offer resistance! Where did you find them, Rabbi? One is worse than the next.”

Jesus lowered his head and did not reply.

The moon rose and flowed over the earth, anointing stones, trees and men. Dark blue shadows fell on the land. In back the disciples, flocked together, talked and bickered. Some licked their chops at the thought of the banquet, some spoke with concern of Jesus’ piercing words; and Thomas remembered the poor old rabbi. “It’s all over with him. Here’s to our turn!”

“What, will we die too?” said Nathanael, surprised. “Didn’t we say we were headed for immortality?”

“Right, but it seems we first have to go by way of death,” Peter explained to him.

Nathanael shook his head. “We’re taking a bad route to immortality,” he grumbled. “Mark my words, we’ll find it damned unpleasant down there in hell!”

White and diaphanous like a ghost, Jerusalem now towered all moonlit in the air before them. The houses, in the moonlight, seemed to be detached and suspended above the ground. A din compounded of men singing psalms and animals being slaughtered rose more and more clearly into the night.

Peter and John stood waiting at the eastern fortress gate. Their faces flashing under the brilliant moon, they ran out happily to receive them. “Everything happened just as you said it would, Rabbi. The tables are set. Dinner is served!”

“And if you ask for the master of the house,” John added, laughing, “he prepared everything and then disappeared.”

Jesus smiled. “That is the supreme hospitality: for the host to disappear.”

They all quickened their pace. The streets were full of people, lighted lanterns and myrtles. The Passover psalm resounded triumphantly from behind the closed doors: