Chapter 4 - Capernaum
I wandered around Galilee, and more and more people came to listen to me. Every morning, I greeted dawn somewhere on a lonely hilltop or a steep rock. There was nothing like the moments when the air was still fresh and the sun's slanting, inescapable rays urged every bird to answer, every scorpion, every mouse. One creature answered the sun by dying of thirst on the stones, another by turning its flank to the comfortably warm light. This language knew only three words: life, death, and sacrifice; indeed, the Egyptians slaughtered their cheeks and geese in honor of the sun, like Amon, by communicating with him.
But every sunrise of mine there on those heights was darkened by the thought that people would again that day look for ways to hurt me, to bring out some wacky truth, to shout about divine ordinances, of which they knew no more than a pig of Hellenic sculpture, and in the process would blaspheme, bear false witness, try to exterminate a neighbor's crops and burn his house to ashes. Because of the higher purposes, of course, which they believed in. If you took those illusions together, you could destroy the world.
In doing so, I saw little evil in many things prescribed by the laws of Rome. Take land treason, for example. What was that? What was the land? The gardens, the valleys, and the mountains? The animals? Or the people? But which ones? You could only betray someone, not everyone. Where three or more people gathered in the name of righteousness, God was not there because any random crowd was only led by madness.
So, if God did not exist, he was not there in a double sense. And if God did exist, he was not insane. He was often ruthless and cynical, and he liked to leave you hopeless, but the showrooms of true madness were ruled by the lowest demons.
And were you allowed to believe in the tablets of the law, according to which an infant who distinguished himself by exceptional wantonness was to be deprived of life? I doubted it, for wantonness was a coincidence permitted by God. Who knows, maybe one day, the infant with six fingers on each hand would lead his people out of slavery. A hand with six fingers would clasp the sword of righteousness firmly.
And what then involved two heads or three legs... We had to leave the infant in this possibility of survival without caring more about it than about a bright, healthy baby. Not to elevate the care of a monstrosity to a small cult ... After all, a spoiled monstrosity could grow into a greater tyrant than a quiet crisp that was not spoiled.
When I had welcomed the sunrise, I descended to the people. They were usually already waiting for me there, demanding my words of comfort, kissing my hands, weeping, lamenting, grieving, and bringing me gifts. But sometimes, that was so hard for me! One kind word and it was like moving a heavy stone. I was lonely, even in the midst of the crowd, even when I slept with two women at once.
It could also happen that I would sit on a mountain for a long time, in rigidity, until it began to bake. One of the disciples would come and get me and take me down to the men and women, the elated dunces and skeptics who would ask incongruous questions, argue with me until they fell, scribes would demand explanations on difficult places of Scripture and accuse me of twisting doctrine, apostasy, say I was a lying airhead. Sometimes, these conversations left me with no time to eat anything.
During my stay in Capernaum, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, I lived in a house whose entrance was guarded by two marble lions. Before that, I had never been allowed to enter such a wealthy dwelling. The house belonged to a widow, as rich as she was devout, of an army chief who had been killed in putting down the rebellion of Tacfarinas in Africa. She allowed me to live in that house with three slaves from Gaul and a hired free cook at my disposal while she moved in with her parents.
Of course, I immediately granted those slaves freedom, but they did not believe in it and continued to voluntarily fulfill their duties regarding the care of the house and garden.
Well, that suited me just fine, too. After all, I'm not one of those Jews who locks his slave in a tub of moray eels for a broken vase or puts the brand of serva on the buttock of a youthful barbarian. But what if someone, at the price of his own life, gave freedom to an entire people, and those people did not accept that gift...?
The widow liked it when I prophesied in the local synagogue and before crowds of fishermen reproached the law teachers for not knowing the entire Torah by heart.
As before, many angry people came to me seeking sustenance and fugitive criminals. The man, for example, who had seduced a Vestal virgin in Alba Longa, and she had sought refuge here, so far away. Amazing! I attracted all sorts of unruly people. One and all refugees. But I profited from that, too, because they spread the rumor about me, reaching the good people who could assist me with money. A few words, and you had everything in your power; you were on horseback. They were looking for a new life, please! Freedom from property, freedom from squeezing family ties, and (shush!) Freedom from the laws of Rome.
I liked it in Capernaum. A green city. Orchards everywhere, palms, and vines came right up to the blue waters of the lake that teemed with fish... Oleanders, myrtle bushes with white flowers. And you had no scorching heat there, while you could harvest all year round. Not for nothing, do they say that it's easier to grow a bunch of olive trees in Galilee than in arid, desert Judea with one small child.
In the widow's house courtyard was a fountain with a floor decorated with a beautiful mosaic: leviathan, among him obliging little sea monsters. When I washed in this fountain, I quickly felt that I had slept too long or had been too generous with the wine the night before. The east-facing windows
gave stunning views of the lake and the blessed land around it.
And the young women, of course. The house was open to everyone. If God did exist, then in which they did exist, His chief tool
At that time, I had three permanent disciples I trusted: Andrew, Simon, and the childishly naive Judas. These disciples had been sifted out of hundreds of casual and useless men, ecstatic simple-minded people who wanted to see a perfect being in me but who, to their great dismay, were shown a man who indulged in the fruits of the earth, who drank undiluted wine and comforted attractive women, preferring mulattoes. He was angry and laughed, and he was not inclined to measure everything and everyone, unlike many itinerant prophets. And, of course, he did not distinguish himself by his hatred of Rome, for the depth of one's hatred for the enemy was the measure of holiness for the simple people....
Neither then nor later did I ask my disciples where they had come from, where their cradle had stood, and where their parents lived, nor did they reveal this to me. I only knew some obvious things about them: Andreas was less dissolute than the others and also quick to resent; the awkward Simon was good-natured and droll; Judas was younger than the others and very attached to me, could respond to every request of mine without grumbling. And each of them was very clever and shrewd, as far as we were concerned.
These three disciples of mine had foolishly led all of Capernaum to believe that I had come to liberate the Jews and become a king. That did shock me. The Romans could have a lot, but they would not relinquish their power, even if it was claimed (in words only!) by a ludicrous little king from some memory. Not for nothing did Emperor Tiberius say that power was a wolf he held by the ears. This was compounded by the fact that a permanent detachment of legionnaires was stationed in Capernaum.
Even though I had not spoken about primitive power, I did not talk about something entirely different: enjoy what is there every minute, and when you leave, take nothing superfluous. Freedom from prejudice is more important than a king's throne! You can sing songs in a cage and still keep joy in your heart.
In Capernaum, I applied myself to healing; the local doctor, Aprim, taught me it. At that time, I had too many patients on my roof who needed to be helped not only by their souls but also by their souls. Aprim told me that he had once worked in the house of the proconsul of Syria. He honored Aesulapius, who related to me, with a friendly composure. He was sometimes even compassionate (when I was sad) because he did not take seriously what I usually said during my prophecies in the synagogue. No doubt he had seen a lot of vice in his life. There were other reasons why he did like me. He loved the Roman and Greek sages more than the wisdom of the law, including Titus Lucretius Carus, and often quoted from his ''Of the Nature of Things.''
The sage Aprim denied the fear of death, death itself, and life after it. According to him, only matter was eternal and endless, and after death, the human body stupidly took on other forms of existence.
Tetanus, epilepsy, hysteria, fever, asthma... These words became a reality for me. The fight against them was successful (but mostly lacking thereof), fought by other words: veins, powders, potions of medicinal herbs.
I found out with which herbs to treat an open wound, with which to treat a closed one, and to what extent to prescribe medicines to drive off the fluid of dropsy, retain the blood of bleeders, or halt the tearing and consequent emaciation.
A great thing is the treatment in alternating hot and cold baths.
Good thing they didn't come up with bully pulpits.
It was sad when people came to me with old people whose minds had withered with time and then asked me to heal them. But I would have been king of the world to replace such a graybeard, which was terrific! You were in blissful ignorance in a world of dreams and cozy childhood fears; you didn't understand anything and were happy when they didn't forget to feed you. Even if I could have given such old people the disposition of conscious life, I would not have done so. I already had enough on my conscience, so why would I bring this sin upon myself?
