Free The Gospel According to the Son by Norman Mailer Page A

they possessed, and this I said because the child, half awake, seemed full of misery that she had returned to the living. Nor did I know whether she had actually died and come back. But I did understand that much unhappiness between husband and wife had laid a pall upon the girl. I could see that she lived in a house of many unclean feelings. No air was sweet in these rooms, and those stale miseries that feed upon themselves were with us. Before I left, I told Jairus and his wife to fast, to pray, and to leave a flower each morning in a small jar by the child's bed.
    It had been simple when I told the girl to rise, but there was a weight on me. Much had been drained from my limbs by the woman who touched my garment, and more now by arousing this child who barely wished to live. Had I drawn too deeply upon the powers of the Lord? Would it have been wiser to save His efforts for other matters? I felt a desire to return to Nazareth, and knew I wanted to apologize to my mother for that hour when I had wounded her love.
    So I went back to my own country, and my disciples followed, and in Nazareth I spent two days with Mary. Yet I do not know if I soothed her feelings, for how could she forgive me after I had said: "Who is my mother?"

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    On the Sabbath, I began to teach in the synagogue, but it was not long before I heard sounds of discontent. Soon people were saying, "What wisdom is this?" And when I told them of my works, of the leper and of the storm, I felt a loss of modesty (which loss was now like a foul spirit in me). Moreover, I was not believed. It was as if word had traveled everywhere but to Nazareth. I could hear them say, "Isn't this the carpenter, the son of Mary?" And I wondered if any blow to pride wounds more than the obligation to honor a man who has been no larger than oneself until this hour. I was pained that they would offer me no love. "A prophet is without honor in his own country and among his own kin and in his own house," I said. "Nor can a doctor cure anyone who knows him. Of course, a doctor is no better than his patient." And indeed in Nazareth I could do no mighty work.
    Still, there came the next Sabbath, and again I awoke with the strength of my Father, and was able to cure a woman who had lived with an infirmity for eighteen years. Yet I was scolded before evening by another ruler of this small temple for healing on the Sabbath day. He was a rich man, much pleased with himself, and he said: "There are six days on which men are to work and in such days they can be healed, not on the Sabbath."
    To which I answered, "You let your ox out of the stall on the Sabbath and lead him to water. Yet you do not allow this woman to be loosed from her bonds on the day we celebrate the works of the Lord."
    But he was more than ready for debate. He replied: "Some of us do not loose our oxen on the Sabbath. Faith is a narrow road." This offended me. I should have said: "Hypocrite! You do lead your ox to water on the Sabbath. You do not want him to thirst and lose value." But I was prudent and said: "Narrow is the way that leads unto life, and the way to destruction is broad."
    He nodded, as if he were the one who would now come closer to the sweetmeat of the question: "The broad highway of simple faith is without peril," he said, "on days that are fair. When it rains or it is night, such breadth in the road turns into a trackless mire. Seek ye, Yeshua, for the narrow path that mounts between the rocks. Do not look for cures on the Sabbath. That is the broad highway."
    With this, he laid his hand on my shoulder as if he were fatherly and I was of lesser faith. In the touch of his fingers was all the confidence of a wealthy man. His hand said to my flesh: "Respect my words. Much position rests beneath."
    He had shamed me. My powers left. Once again, and in my own synagogue, I was without strength.

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    As soon as I left Nazareth, however, some good spirits returned concerning all that we could do. Indeed the time