Little by little Jesus’ heart softened. In the humid half darkness the faces of Mary Magdalene and Mary sister of Lazarus were mixing, becoming one. The night arrived, all perfume, and covered them.

“Come,” mumbled the angel, placing his round, fuzzy arm about Jesus’ waist. His breath smelled of nutmeg and damp soil. Jesus leaned his head against him, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He wanted the breath of the guardian angel to descend to his very bowels.

Smiling, the angel unfolded one of his wings. The night was accompanied by a heavy frost, and he wrapped his thick green wings around Jesus so that he would not be cold. Once more the woman’s lament, like a peaceful springtime drizzle, was audible in the damp air: Tomb of silver, tomb of gold…

“Let us go,” said Jesus, and he smiled.

Chapter Thirty-One

ALL NIGHT LONG Jesus skimmed over the ground wrapped in the green wings and hugging the angel tightly around the waist. A large moon had climbed into the sky. It was odd tonight, and merry. On it, instead of seeing Cain slay Abel, you saw a wide, happy mouth, two peaceful eyes and two well-nourished cheeks bathed in light: the fully circular face of a night-roaming woman in love. The trees fled; the night birds spoke like human beings. The mountains opened, drew the two nocturnal wanderers within and closed again behind them.

What happiness this is: to fly, skimming over the earth just as we do in our dreams! Life has become a dream. Can this be the meaning of Paradise?… He wanted to ask the angel but remained quiet, for he feared that by speaking he might wake himself up.

He looked around him. How very light the spirits of the stones, the air, the mountain, had become: as when you sit with friends, your heart heavy, and the cool wine comes and you drink; and little by little your mind lightens, hovers, sails above your head, becomes a rosy cloud; and the world, all gold and air, is reflected on it upside down.

Once more he started to turn in order to speak to the angel, but the other placed his finger on his lips, smiled at him, and gently told him to be still.

They must have neared some village, for the cocks were announcing the daybreak. The moon had now rolled behind the mountains and dawn peacefully illuminated the world. The earth grew sober; time became sensible again. Mountain, village and olive grove went back and stood once more where God had placed them to await the end of the world. Here was the beloved road, there the compassionate village of Bethany amid its olives, figs and vineyards. There too was the refreshing house of friendship, with the holy loom and the lighted fire and the two sisters, the two sleepless flames…

“Here we are,” said the angel.

Smoke was rising from the flue on the roof. The two sisters must have already awakened and lighted the fire.

“Jesus of Nazareth,” said the angel, unwrapping his wing from around him, “the two sisters lighted a fire, did the milking first thing in the morning and are now preparing the milk for you. On our way, didn’t you want to ask me the meaning of Paradise? Thousands of small joys, Jesus of Nazareth. To knock at a door, to have a woman open it for you, to sit down in front of the fire, to watch her lay the table for you; and when it is completely dark, to feel her take you in her arms. That is the way the Saviour comes: gradually-from embrace to embrace, son to son. That is the road.”

“I understand,” said Jesus. He stopped in front of the indigo-colored door and grasped the knocker, but the angel held him back.

“Don’t be in a hurry,” he said. “Listen, we’d better not separate any more. I’m afraid to leave you all alone and undefended-so I’ll come with you. I’ll turn myself into a Negro boy, the one you saw under the lemon trees, and you can say I’m a young slave who runs errands for you. I don’t want you to take the wrong road again and get lost.”

No sooner had he spoken than a Negro boy stood before Jesus. His head reached the man’s knees, he had broad white teeth, two golden rings in his ears; and he was holding a basket filled to overflowing.

“Here, Master,” he said with a smile. “Gifts for the two sisters. Silk clothing, earrings, bracelets, fans made of precious feathers-the complete feminine armor. Now you can knock at the door.”

Jesus knocked. He heard the sound of clogs in the yard and then a sweet voice called, “Who’s there?”

Jesus blushed scarlet. He recognized the voice: it was Mary’s. The door opened and the two sisters fell at his feet.

“Rabbi, we worship your Passion, we salute your holy resurrection. Welcome!”

“Allow me to touch your breast, Rabbi, to see if it’s really you,” said Mary.

“Mary, he’s flesh, real flesh,” Martha exclaimed, “flesh-like us. Don’t you see? And look, there’s his shadow on our doorstep.”

Jesus listened, and smiled. He felt the two sisters touching him, smelling him, rejoicing.

“Martha and Mary, twin flames: it’s fine to see you. Tranquil, humble, courteous house of men: it’s fine to see you. We are still alive, we still hunger, act and weep. Glory be to God!”

While still talking and greeting the two sisters, he entered the house.

“It’s fine to see you, fireplace and loom and kneading trough, and table and pitcher and beloved lamp! Faithful servants of woman, I bow and worship your grace. When woman arrives at the gate of Paradise she will stop and ask, ‘Lord, will my companions enter too?’

“ ‘What companions?’ God will ask her.

“ ‘Here-the trough, cradle, lamp, pitcher and loom. If they don’t go in, neither do I.’

“And goodhearted God will laugh. ‘You’re women; can I refuse you a favor? Enter, all of you. Paradise is so full of troughs, cradles and looms, I have no place left for the saints.”’

The two women laughed. Turning, they saw the small Negro with the overflowing basket.

“Rabbi, who is this boy?” Mary asked. “I like his teeth.”

Jesus sat down in front of the hearth. They brought milk, honey and whole-wheat bread. Jesus’ eyes filled with tears.

“The seven heavens were not big enough for me,” he said, “nor the seven great virtues nor the seven great ideas. And now, what miracle is this, my sisters? A tiny house is big enough for me, and a mouthful of bread, and the simple words of a woman!”

He marched up and down the house as its master, brought in an armful of vine branches from the yard, fed the fire. The flames leaped up. He bent over the well, drew water and drank. He put out his hands, placed them on the shoulders of Martha and Mary and took possession of them.

“Dearest Martha and Mary,” he said, “I shall change my name. They killed your brother, whom I raised from the dead. I shall come and sit in the place where he sat, here in the corner; I shall take his ox-goad, I shall plow, sow and harvest his fields. When I return in the evening my sisters will wash my weary feet and lay the table for me. Then I shall sit by the fire, on his stool. My name is Lazarus.”

While he spoke the small Negro bewitched him with his large eyes. The more he looked at him, the more Jesus’ face changed, as did his whole body: head, chest, thighs, hands and feet. He grew more and more to resemble Lazarus, a ripe, mature Lazarus, all health and strength, with a bull neck, sunburned chest and huge gnarled hands. The two sisters watched this metamorphosis in the half-light and trembled.

“I’ve changed body. I’ve changed soul. Hello! I proclaim war against poverty and fasting. The soul is a lively animal; it wants to eat. This mouth beneath my beard and mustache is the soul’s mouth, the only mouth the soul has. I declare war against chastity. An infant sits mute and numb in the womb of every woman. Open the doors and let him out! He who does not beget, murders… Are you crying, Mary?”