sank instantaneously, like lead, into the depths of sleep.
Mary nerved herself and lighted the lamp. The food was boiling. Going to the hearth, she knelt and removed the lid of the earthenware pot to see if any water was needed, or perhaps a pinch of salt.
Chapter Six
THE SKY SHONE bluish white. Nazareth was asleep and dreaming, the Morning Star tolled the hours over its pillows, the lemon and date trees were still wrapped in a rosy-blue veil. Deep silence … Not even the black cock had crowed. The son of Mary opened the door. Dark blue rings circled his eyes, but his hand did not tremble. He opened the door, and without closing it again, without looking back to see either his mother or his father, he abandoned the paternal roof forever. He took two steps, three, and stopped. He thought he heard two heavy feet moving along with him. He looked behind him: no one. He tightened the nail-studded leather belt, tied the red-spotted kerchief over his hair and went down the narrow, twisting lanes. A dog barked at him mournfully; an owl sensed the approach of day, took fright and flew silently away over his head. He hurriedly left the bolted doors behind him and came out into the gardens and orchards. The first song birds had already begun to twitter. In a kitchen garden an old man was in harness, turning the winch over an irrigation well. The day had begun.
He had neither wallet, staff nor sandals, and the road was long. He would have to go past Cana, Tiberias, Magdala and Capernaum, then circle the lake. of Gennesaret and enter the desert. He had heard of a monastery there for simple, virtuous men: they dressed all in white, ate no meat, drank no wine, never touched a woman—did nothing but pray to God. They were versed in herbs and healed the diseases of the body; they were versed also in secret charms and cured the soul of devils. How many times had his uncle the rabbi spoken to him, sighing continually, about this holy monastery! He had spent eleven years there as a monk, praising God and healing men. But alas! one day he was mounted by the Tempter (he too, of course, is almighty): he saw a woman, abandoned the holy life, stripped off his white cassock, married—and fathered Magdalene. Served him right! God gave the apostate his just reward. ...
“That’s where I’ll go,” murmured the son of Mary, quickening his pace. “There, inside the monastery, I shall hide under his wings.
What a joy this was! What a long time—ever since his twelfth birthday—he had longed to abandon house and parents, to forget the past, escape his mother’s admonitions, his father’s bellowing and the petty workaday cares which devour the soul; had longed to shake Man from his feet like so much dust and to flee and take refuge in the desert! Today—finally—he had thrown everything behind him with one toss, had extricated himself from man’s wheel and taken hold, body and soul, of God’s. He was saved!
His pale, embittered face suddenly gleamed. Perhaps God’s claws had clutched him all those years precisely in order to bring him where he was now going of his own volition, free of the claws. Did this mean that his desires were beginning to join with those of God? Wasn’t this the greatest and most difficult of man’s duties? Wasn’t this the meaning of happiness?
His heart felt relieved. No more claws, no more wrestling and screaming. This morning at daybreak God had come filled with compassion, had come like a cool, gentle breeze and said to him, “Let us go!” He had opened the door; and now—what a delicious feeling of reconciliation, what happiness! “It is too much for me,” he murmured. “I shall lift high my head and sing the psalm of salvation: ‘You are my shelter and my refuge, Lord. ...’ ” His joy could not be contained in his heart; it overflowed. He proceeded in the sweet light of the dawn, surrounded by God’s great wealth—olive trees, vineyards, wheatfields; and the psalm of joy bounded out of his
Mary nerved herself and lighted the lamp. The food was boiling. Going to the hearth, she knelt and removed the lid of the earthenware pot to see if any water was needed, or perhaps a pinch of salt.
Chapter Six
THE SKY SHONE bluish white. Nazareth was asleep and dreaming, the Morning Star tolled the hours over its pillows, the lemon and date trees were still wrapped in a rosy-blue veil. Deep silence … Not even the black cock had crowed. The son of Mary opened the door. Dark blue rings circled his eyes, but his hand did not tremble. He opened the door, and without closing it again, without looking back to see either his mother or his father, he abandoned the paternal roof forever. He took two steps, three, and stopped. He thought he heard two heavy feet moving along with him. He looked behind him: no one. He tightened the nail-studded leather belt, tied the red-spotted kerchief over his hair and went down the narrow, twisting lanes. A dog barked at him mournfully; an owl sensed the approach of day, took fright and flew silently away over his head. He hurriedly left the bolted doors behind him and came out into the gardens and orchards. The first song birds had already begun to twitter. In a kitchen garden an old man was in harness, turning the winch over an irrigation well. The day had begun.
He had neither wallet, staff nor sandals, and the road was long. He would have to go past Cana, Tiberias, Magdala and Capernaum, then circle the lake. of Gennesaret and enter the desert. He had heard of a monastery there for simple, virtuous men: they dressed all in white, ate no meat, drank no wine, never touched a woman—did nothing but pray to God. They were versed in herbs and healed the diseases of the body; they were versed also in secret charms and cured the soul of devils. How many times had his uncle the rabbi spoken to him, sighing continually, about this holy monastery! He had spent eleven years there as a monk, praising God and healing men. But alas! one day he was mounted by the Tempter (he too, of course, is almighty): he saw a woman, abandoned the holy life, stripped off his white cassock, married—and fathered Magdalene. Served him right! God gave the apostate his just reward. ...
“That’s where I’ll go,” murmured the son of Mary, quickening his pace. “There, inside the monastery, I shall hide under his wings.
What a joy this was! What a long time—ever since his twelfth birthday—he had longed to abandon house and parents, to forget the past, escape his mother’s admonitions, his father’s bellowing and the petty workaday cares which devour the soul; had longed to shake Man from his feet like so much dust and to flee and take refuge in the desert! Today—finally—he had thrown everything behind him with one toss, had extricated himself from man’s wheel and taken hold, body and soul, of God’s. He was saved!
His pale, embittered face suddenly gleamed. Perhaps God’s claws had clutched him all those years precisely in order to bring him where he was now going of his own volition, free of the claws. Did this mean that his desires were beginning to join with those of God? Wasn’t this the greatest and most difficult of man’s duties? Wasn’t this the meaning of happiness?
His heart felt relieved. No more claws, no more wrestling and screaming. This morning at daybreak God had come filled with compassion, had come like a cool, gentle breeze and said to him, “Let us go!” He had opened the door; and now—what a delicious feeling of reconciliation, what happiness! “It is too much for me,” he murmured. “I shall lift high my head and sing the psalm of salvation: ‘You are my shelter and my refuge, Lord. ...’ ” His joy could not be contained in his heart; it overflowed. He proceeded in the sweet light of the dawn, surrounded by God’s great wealth—olive trees, vineyards, wheatfields; and the psalm of joy bounded out of his
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