immerse?"
"Someone asked if he is the Messiah," another man said.
Messiah. The Anointed One. Gooseflesh sped up my arms.
"And what does he say?" But even as I asked it, I berated myself. I had renounced would-be messiahs and thrown my lot in with the Sons of the Teacher. If there was to be a Messiah, we would be it--though we would not shun the help of a man able to raise an army when needed.
That was the true reason Levi and I had come.
"He says he's not the One," the man said.
I did not know what was stronger, my disappointment or my relief.
I woke before dawn with a stiff neck and growing frustration--a sense of stymie that sat like something sour in my gut. By morning light, the Baptizer was stalking along the bank nearest us, already teaching. The crowd was smaller than yesterday and I found myself unnervingly near him.
77
His words knew no end! Again and again, he called for repentance and announced the coming kingdom until my frustration grew so great that I leapt to my feet.
"Where? Where is the Lord?" I cried.
The Baptizer's eyes turned and caught mine, his gaze a snare. This time I did not melt backward.
"He's coming! I tell you, he is coming, and the kingdom with him." He walked up to me. "Come. I will baptize you."
I did not need a messiah. I did not want to see the death of yet another anointed one come to march Israel deeper into the clutches of Rome.
But how I craved cleansing! How I longed for it, mourned every time that the waters of the mikva fell away from my skin, knowing my peace, too fleeting, would soon follow.
My throat tightened. I was keenly aware of every eye upon me as he turned and walked into the water. Months ago, I had buried one hope to retrieve the ember of another. The Judas of last spring would not have followed the Baptizer into the Jordan.
But the Judas of this fall would.
Impulsively, I took off my sandals and pulled my tunic over my head, ignoring Simon's surprise behind me. Clad in only a loincloth, I staggered after the Baptizer into the water.
The silt of the Jordan slipped between my toes, and the hair stood up on my
arms. The sun was just rising over the far bank as I came to stand before John--and then, as I lifted my eyes, it crested and I was overcome with light.
I covered my face and whispered every unclean thing I could think of. From my anger at God himself for the death of Susanna, to the day I spat at Joshua . . . to the fears, plaguing me still, that the 78
Lord had left us forever--or worse yet, never existed. That, too, I whispered, my words falling to the water like so many insects skittering on its surface.
I uncovered my face, and spread my arms wide. The hands of the Baptizer were on my head. He pressed me back. My knees buckled beneath me.
Dark enveloped me, cool on my chest and over my face, which was sticky already with tears. And then I was sinking into the chill of the river rushing past me, the light pervading that darkness so that it was not nearly as dark as it should have been in those muddy waters.
So like the womb. Like that moment before birth where there is no awareness of wrong or evil or pain or hope or anything but that still voice that whispers merely: I am.
I stayed there for as long as I could, until I thought that if I wanted to, I might actually breathe that murky light in along with the cold unconsciousness of it, the unknowing innocence of soul unmarred by skin or blood or life.
And then I was rising up. My knees straightened and my back lifted and my face came through the surface of the water. I could hear John as though from a distance as the sun broke on my face, every droplet of water a prism of refracted miracles, a thousand voices singing the language of light, and I thought: I am made anew. At last. At last.
The Lord had not left me. The Lord had not left Israel. I believed it and knew it to be true.
If only for a moment.
79
9
Levi arrived at my house before the city gates had even opened for the day.
"I'm
"Someone asked if he is the Messiah," another man said.
Messiah. The Anointed One. Gooseflesh sped up my arms.
"And what does he say?" But even as I asked it, I berated myself. I had renounced would-be messiahs and thrown my lot in with the Sons of the Teacher. If there was to be a Messiah, we would be it--though we would not shun the help of a man able to raise an army when needed.
That was the true reason Levi and I had come.
"He says he's not the One," the man said.
I did not know what was stronger, my disappointment or my relief.
I woke before dawn with a stiff neck and growing frustration--a sense of stymie that sat like something sour in my gut. By morning light, the Baptizer was stalking along the bank nearest us, already teaching. The crowd was smaller than yesterday and I found myself unnervingly near him.
77
His words knew no end! Again and again, he called for repentance and announced the coming kingdom until my frustration grew so great that I leapt to my feet.
"Where? Where is the Lord?" I cried.
The Baptizer's eyes turned and caught mine, his gaze a snare. This time I did not melt backward.
"He's coming! I tell you, he is coming, and the kingdom with him." He walked up to me. "Come. I will baptize you."
I did not need a messiah. I did not want to see the death of yet another anointed one come to march Israel deeper into the clutches of Rome.
But how I craved cleansing! How I longed for it, mourned every time that the waters of the mikva fell away from my skin, knowing my peace, too fleeting, would soon follow.
My throat tightened. I was keenly aware of every eye upon me as he turned and walked into the water. Months ago, I had buried one hope to retrieve the ember of another. The Judas of last spring would not have followed the Baptizer into the Jordan.
But the Judas of this fall would.
Impulsively, I took off my sandals and pulled my tunic over my head, ignoring Simon's surprise behind me. Clad in only a loincloth, I staggered after the Baptizer into the water.
The silt of the Jordan slipped between my toes, and the hair stood up on my
arms. The sun was just rising over the far bank as I came to stand before John--and then, as I lifted my eyes, it crested and I was overcome with light.
I covered my face and whispered every unclean thing I could think of. From my anger at God himself for the death of Susanna, to the day I spat at Joshua . . . to the fears, plaguing me still, that the 78
Lord had left us forever--or worse yet, never existed. That, too, I whispered, my words falling to the water like so many insects skittering on its surface.
I uncovered my face, and spread my arms wide. The hands of the Baptizer were on my head. He pressed me back. My knees buckled beneath me.
Dark enveloped me, cool on my chest and over my face, which was sticky already with tears. And then I was sinking into the chill of the river rushing past me, the light pervading that darkness so that it was not nearly as dark as it should have been in those muddy waters.
So like the womb. Like that moment before birth where there is no awareness of wrong or evil or pain or hope or anything but that still voice that whispers merely: I am.
I stayed there for as long as I could, until I thought that if I wanted to, I might actually breathe that murky light in along with the cold unconsciousness of it, the unknowing innocence of soul unmarred by skin or blood or life.
And then I was rising up. My knees straightened and my back lifted and my face came through the surface of the water. I could hear John as though from a distance as the sun broke on my face, every droplet of water a prism of refracted miracles, a thousand voices singing the language of light, and I thought: I am made anew. At last. At last.
The Lord had not left me. The Lord had not left Israel. I believed it and knew it to be true.
If only for a moment.
79
9
Levi arrived at my house before the city gates had even opened for the day.
"I'm
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