Epiphany Part II 'The Baptism', Excerpt from Fifth Gospel - A Novel.

THE BAPTISM

     

T

HE day was nearing its apex. Sharp talons of light fractured the water and made short shadows of men. From the crowds, Jesus saw the priests of the Sanhedrin leave the river, and he waited for a time, until the voices of the people had died down and many had left, seeking their midday meal.

He laid aside his garments and took himself to the river in his loincloth. The man in the river was aglow with light. Colour spilt over him like fluid fire. Jesus saw him put a hand over his brow. He did not pause but entered the silvered water. First his feet, then his ankles, and knees, until the cold came over his thighs, until he stood before the man whose height was greater than his, and whose face was, of a sudden, full with awe.

The man let go his staff into the water, and his knees buckled and he fell into it.

He cried, ‘I should be baptised by you! I cannot endure to do it!’

‘In the same way that once my presence awoke your limbs in your mother’s womb, I shall awaken your thoughts to your duty!’

The man called John looked up and Jesus’ shadow fell over him. Jesus could now see, unclouded and undisturbed by the light, a reflected mirror image of himself in the other man’s face. An image of something he had misplaced. He was given the knowledge at Qumran that this man was the same as Elijah, and now he recognised in him, the oldest soul of humanity, Adam, and he realised that some part of him belonged to this man and was conjoined by a remembrance of times lost in a dream.

When the baptiser stood, it was a signal to Jesus.

He crossed his arms over his chest. He felt a support behind the small of his back. It seemed to him then, that although Yeshua was leaving him, little by little, the soul of the baptiser was uniting with him –  to sure up the pathway to the God. And he was comforted by it.

John guided him into the water, and he was submerged into light and colour and sound. His soul was wedded to the element of the river. All the pictures of his life rushed past his eyes until he heard a flute song, and he could smell sheep, earth and grass. All of it was married to the warmth of friendship, the lulling breezes, the glow of the sun, the fingers of the wind, the soothing feel of his mother’s hand and the cry of a child in the wilderness.

Now, there was nothing more.  

He did not breathe. He was lost. He was alone. A flame hovered over him. A sparkling, ever-tranquil, lilting radiance issued from the encircling round, and above him the spirit of Yeshua gathered up to form the shape of a bird. It lingered a moment over him, as if in a final farewell, and was given up, with light in its wings and life in its breast.

Surrendered!

The majestic and wise spirit of Yeshua, which had fashioned his soul and body over eighteen years, was severed from him. Within him was left a hollow place, unopened yet to the spirit, like a spring bud that trembles in a cold wind.

How could he open it, when he had no forces left to him? A great lassitude overwhelmed him and threatened to extinguish him. He was alone. And yet…and yet…Jesus sensed the soul of his dead mother draw near. His mother, whose purity was the likeness of his own, came to his aid. She plucked tenderly at his heart, to unfold him in readiness for the descent of grace; for the pulse of heaven’s glory. When the clouds parted and rent was the veil that separates above and below, the God fell downwards, from the heart of the Father, like a brand of light moving through the spirit’s fluid stream. Jesus inhaled the breath of the God into his lungs, and the spirit orphaned from heaven, innocent of evil, immortal, blameless, without guilt and eternal, began its descent into the soul of Jesus.

Now, when Jesus opened his eyes, he saw the world differently for the second time in his life, and in his ears the thunder call came:

 ‘Thou art my beloved Son, in whom I behold my very own Self, in whom my own Self confronts me! Now you are begotten in Jesus!’