As the disciples marched through the streets they too began to chant the Passover psalm. Peter and John went in front and led them. All, with the exception of Jesus and Judas, had forgotten their cares and fears and were running toward the waiting tables.

Peter and John halted, pushed open a door marked with a fingerprint made with the blood of the slain lamb, and entered. Jesus and the hungry procession followed. Passing through the yard, they climbed up a stone staircase to the upper story. The tables were set. Three seven-branched candelabra illuminated the lamb, the wine, the unleavened bread, the appetizers, even the staffs they were supposed to hold as they ate, as though they were ready to depart on a long journey.

“We’re delighted to meet you!” said Jesus. He lifted his hand and blessed the invisible host.

The disciples laughed. “Whom are you greeting, Rabbi?”

“The Invisible,” Jesus answered, and he looked at them severely.

He tied a large towel around his waist, took water, knelt, and began to wash the disciples’ feet.

“Rabbi, I’ll never agree to let you wash my feet!” Peter cried.

“Peter, if I do not wash your feet, you will not join me in the kingdom of heaven.”

“Well, in that case, Rabbi, wash not only my feet but my hands and head too.”

They seated themselves around the tables. They were famished, but no one dared put out his hand. The teacher’s face was stern this evening and his lips embittered. He looked at the disciples one by one: at Peter on his right, John on his left-all; and opposite him, at his grave, unaccommodating accomplice with the red beard.

“First of all,” he said, “we must drink the salt water, to remember the tears which our fathers shed in the land of slavery.”

He took the pitcher with the salt water and started by filling Judas’s glass to overflowing, then poured a few sips into the glasses of the others, and lastly filled his own brimful.

“May we remember the tears, the pain and the anguish men suffer for the sake of freedom!” he said, and he emptied his brimful glass in a single gulp.

The others drank with contorted mouths. Like Jesus, Judas emptied his glass in one gulp. He showed it to the master and turned it upside down. Not a single drop remained.

“You’re a brave warrior, Judas,” Jesus said, smiling. “You can endure even the most severe bitterness.”

He took the unleavened bread and divided it. Next, he served the lamb. Each one put out his hand and took his share of the bitter herbs prescribed by the Law: oregano, bay and savory. Then, red gravy was poured over the meat in remembrance of the red bricks which their ancestors manufactured during their captivity. They ate hurriedly, as the Law prescribed, and each one grasped his staff and kept one foot raised in the air, prepared to depart.

Jesus watched them eat, not eating himself. He too held his staff and kept his right foot in the air, ready for a great journey. No one spoke. The only sounds were from the clacking of jaws, the clinking of wineglasses, and tongues licking the bones. The moon entered through the skylight above them. Half of the tables were brightly illuminated, half plunged in purple darkness.

After a deep silence Jesus opened his mouth. “Passover, my faithful fellow voyagers, means passage-passage from darkness to light, from slavery to freedom. But the Passover that we celebrate tonight goes even further. Tonight’s Passover means passage from death to eternal life. I go in the lead, comrades, and clear the way for you.”

Peter shuddered. “Rabbi,” he said, “you’re speaking about death again, and again your words are a double-edged knife. If any calamity hangs over you, speak freely. We’re men.”

“It’s true, Rabbi,” said John. “Your words are bitterer than these bitter herbs. Have pity and speak to us clearly.”

Jesus took his still-untouched portion of bread and divided it mouthful by mouthful among the disciples.

“Take it and eat,” he said. “This is my body.”

He also took his glass of wine, which was still full, and passed it from mouth to mouth. They all drank.

“Take it and drink,” he said. “This is my blood.”

Each of the disciples ate his mouthful of bread and drank his sip of wine. Their minds reeled. The wine seemed to them thick and salty, like blood; the portion of bread descended like a burning coal into their very bowels. Suddenly, terrified, they all felt Jesus take root within them and begin to devour their entrails. Peter leaned his elbows on the table and began to weep.

John bent over to Jesus’ breast. “You want to depart, Rabbi, you want to depart… to depart…” he mumbled over and over, unable to utter anything more.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Andrew yelled. “The other day you said, ‘Let him who has no knife sell his cloak to buy one!’ We’ll sell our clothes, we’ll arm ourselves; and then let Charon come in-if he dare-to touch you!”

“You shall all abandon me,” Jesus said uncomplainingly. “All.”

“I never!” shouted Peter, wiping away his tears.

“Peter, Peter, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.”

“I? I?” Peter bellowed, beating his chest with his fists. “I deny you? I’m with you to the death!”

“To the death!” groaned all the disciples, jumping to their feet in a trance.

“Sit down,” Jesus said tranquilly. “The hour has not yet come. This Passover I have a great secret to confide to you. Open your minds, open your hearts, do not let yourselves be afraid!”

“Speak, Rabbi,” John murmured, his heart trembling like a reed.

“You have eaten? You are no longer hungry? The body is filled? Will it finally allow your soul to listen in peace?”

Trembling, they all hung on Jesus’ lips.

“Beloved companions,” he cried, “farewell! I depart!”

The disciples cried out, fell upon him and held him so that he would not leave. Many were weeping. But Jesus turned calmly to Matthew.

“Matthew, you know the Scriptures by heart. Get up and in a strong voice tell them Isaiah’s prophetic words in order to steady their hearts. You remember: ‘He grew up in the eyes of the Lord like a small, frail tree…’ ”

Rejoicing, Matthew jumped to his feet. He was stoop-shouldered, bow-legged, desiccated, and his long, slender fingers were endlessly smudged; but suddenly, how straight he stood! His cheeks caught fire, his neck swelled, and the words of the prophet echoed in the high-ceilinged attic, full of bitterness and strength:

“That’s enough,” said Jesus, sighing.

He turned to the companions. “It is I,” he said quietly. “The prophet Isaiah is speaking about me: I am the lamb that is being led to the slaughter, and I shall not open my mouth.” After a pause, he continued. “They have been leading me to the slaughter ever since the day of my birth.”