“Lord have mercy upon us! Lord have mercy upon us!” the people shouted, weeping. “Speak, Father Melchizedek, speak!”

“The women shrieked, many of the men hid themselves behind rocks, and we who remained trembled. The tombstone rose little by little. We saw two yellow arms and then a head all green, cracked and full of dirt; finally the skeleton-like body wrapped in the shroud. It put forward one foot, then the other, and came out. It was Lazarus.”

The old chieftain stopped to wipe away the sweat with his wide sleeve. All around him the people were howling. Some wept, others danced.

Barabbas raised his huge hairy hand. “Lies! Lies!” he shouted. “He’s commissioned by the Romans and cooked all this up with Lazarus. Down with traitors!”

“Shut your mouth!” bellowed a savage voice behind him. “What Romans?”

They all turned and immediately recoiled. Rufus the centurion was coming toward Barabbas with his whip held high. A pale, blond-haired girl grasped his arm. She had been standing and listening to old Melchizedek the whole time, the tears running from her large green eyes. Barabbas slid away into the assembled humanity and disappeared, and behind him ran Jacob the Pharisee with his amulets. He overtook him in back of a column. There the two of them, their heads glued together, began to chatter: bandit and Pharisee became brothers.

Barabbas spoke first. “You think it’s true?” he asked anxiously.

“What?”

“What they say: that he revived a corpse.”

“Listen well to what I’m going to tell you. I’m a Pharisee, you’re a Zealot. Until now I always said Israel would be saved only with prayer, fasting and the holy Law. But now…”

“Now?” asked the Zealot, his eyes flashing.

“Now, Zealot, I’m beginning to see things your way. Prayer and fasting aren’t enough. A knife has got to be put to work here. Do you understand me?”

Barabbas guffawed. “You’re asking me? There’s no better prayer than the knife. Well?”

“Let’s start with him.”

“Who? Speak clearly.”

“Lazarus. It’s of the first importance that we lower him once more into the ground. As long as the people see him they’ll say, ‘He was dead and the son of Mary resurrected him.’ In this way the false prophet’s glory will spread… You’re right, Barabbas, he’s commissioned by the Romans to shout. ‘Don’t bother about the kingdom of the earth,’ he says; ‘keep your eyes on heaven!’ And thus-while we waste our time looking at the sky-the Romans will sit on our necks. Understand?”

“Well? Do you want us to do away with him too, even if he’s your brother?”

“He’s no brother of mine; I want no part of him!” shouted the Pharisee, pretending to tear his robes. “I hand him over to you!”

This said, he pulled himself away from the column and began once more to hawk his talismans. He had wound Barabbas up well and was content.

The crowd of paupers outside Solomon’s Porch gave up hope of seeing Jesus arrive and began to disperse. Old Melchizedek purchased two white doves to offer as sacrifices in order to thank the God of Israel for taking pity on his people at last and sending them, after so many years, a new prophet.

The stones were on fire. The faces of the people vanished in the excessive light. Suddenly a cloud of dust arose on the road from Bethany. Happy cries; the whole village had closed up shop and was coming. First to appear were the children with palm branches and laurels. Behind the palm branches came Jesus, his face gleaming; farther back the disciples, red-faced and sweating as though each one had personally raised a man from the dead; and last of all, completely hoarse from shouting, the Bethanites. They were all rushing to the Temple. Jesus mounted the stairs two at a time, passed the first tier and reached the second. A savage light gushed from his face and hands and no one could go near him. For an instant the old rabbi, who was running breathlessly behind him like the others, tried to cross into the invisible arena surrounding the master, but straightway he drew back as though licked by flames.

Jesus had just issued from God’s kiln and his blood was still furiously bubbling. He still could not believe it, nor did he want to: was the power of the soul so great? Could it order the mountains, Come! and indeed move them? Could it tear apart the earth and bring forth the dead, destroy the world in three days and rebuild it in three days? But if the strength of the soul was so all-powerful, then all the weight of perdition or salvation fell upon the shoulders of mankind; the borders of God and man joined… This was a terrifying, dangerous thought, and Jesus’ temples drummed.

He had left Lazarus standing in his shroud over the tomb and had departed with unusual haste for the Temple of Jerusalem. It was the first time he had felt so invincibly that this world must at last see its end and that a new Jerusalem must rise from the tombs. The moment had come. This was the sign he had been waiting for. The hopelessly rotted world was a Lazarus. The time had come for him to cry out, “World, arise!” He had the obligation; and most frightening of all, as he now realized, he also had the strength. It was no longer possible for him to escape by saying, I am unable! He was able, and if the world failed to be saved, the entire sin must fall on him.

The blood rose to his head. On every side he saw the stares of the oppressed and the ragamuffins, who had all of their hopes pinned on him. Littering a savage cry, he jumped onto a platform. The people swarmed around him. Smirking, the rich and well fed stopped too, in order to hear. Jesus turned, saw them, and raised his fist.

“Listen, you who are rich,” he shouted, “listen, lords of this world. Injustice, infamy and hunger can last no longer! God rubbed my lips with burning coals and I cry out: How long will you recline on beds of ivory and on soft mattresses? How long will you eat the flesh of the poor and drink their sweat, blood and tears? ‘I can stand you no longer!’ cries my God. The fire is approaching, the dead are being raised, the end of the world has come!”

Two huge ragamuffins seized him and lifted him above their heads. The multitude gathered around, waving palm leaves. Steam rose from the prophets fiery head.

“I have come not to bring peace to the world but a sword. I shall throw discord into the home, the son shall lift his hand against the father, the daughter against her mother, the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law-for my sake. Whoever follows me abandons all. He that seeks on this earth to save his life, shall lose it; and he that for my sake loses this temporary life, shall gain life for all eternity.”

“What does the Law say, rebel?” shouted a wild voice. “What do the Holy Scriptures say, Lucifer?”

“What say the great prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel?” Jesus answered, his eyes glistening. “I shall abolish the Law engraved on the tables of Moses and shall engrave a new Law in man’s heart. I shall remove the heart of stone which men now have and give them a heart of flesh; and in this heart I shall plant a new Hope! It is I who engrave the new Law in the new hearts, and I am also the new Hope! I extend love; I open God’s four great doors, the East, West, North and South, for all nations to enter. The bosom of God is not a ghetto; it embraces the entire world! God is not an Israelite, he is immortal Spirit!”

The old rabbi hid his face in his hands. He wanted to shout, Jesus, be quiet, this is a great blasphemy! but was too late. Wild cries of joy broke out. The poor howled with delight; the Levites booed, and Jacob the Pharisee tore his robes and spit into the air. The old rabbi gave up in despair. Weeping, he departed. “He’s finished,” he murmured as he went, “finished! What devil, what god, shouts from within him?”

He went along, so fatigued that he stepped all over his feet. During all these days and weeks that he had been running behind Jesus, battling to understand who he was, his ramshackle body had completely melted away. Nothing was left now but a sun-baked hide wrapped around bones to which the soul clung and waited. Was this man the Messiah whom God had promised him or wasn’t he? All the miracles he performed could also be performed by Satan, who could even resurrect the dead. The miracles therefore did not give the rabbi sufficient basis to pass judgment; nor did the prophecies. Satan was a sly and exceedingly powerful archangel. In order to deceive mankind he was capable of making his words and actions fit the holy prophecies to perfection. For these reasons the rabbi lay in bed at night unable to sleep and begged God to take pity on him and to give him a sure sign… What sign? The rabbi understood perfectly: death, his own death. When he brought this sign to mind, he shuddered.