The Brook Kerith: A Syrian story

by George Moore

It seems to me that in telling this story, brethren, I am doing but the work of God; no man strays very far from the work that God has decreed to him. But in the time I am telling I was so exalted by the many miracles which I had performed by the power of God or the power of a demon, I know not which, that I encouraged my disciples to speak of me as the son of David, though I knew myself to be the son of Joseph the carpenter; and when I rode into Jerusalem and the people strewed palms before me and called out, the son of David, and Joseph said to me, let them not call thee the son of David, I answered in my pride, if they did not call it forth the stones themselves would. In the days I am telling, pride lifted me above myself, and I went about asking who I was, Moses, Elijah, Jeremiah or the Messiah promised to the Jews.

A madman! A madman, or possessed by some evil spirit, Paul cried out, and rising to his feet he rushed out of the cenoby, but nobody rose to detain him; some of the Essenes raised their heads, and a moment after the interruption was forgotten.

A day passed in the great exaltation and hope, and one evening I took bread and broke it, saying that I was the bread of life that came down from heaven and that whosoever ate of it had everlasting life given to him. After saying these words a great disquiet fell upon me, and calling my disciples together I asked them to come to the garden of olives with me. And it was while asking God's forgiveness for my blasphemies that the emissaries and agents of the priests came and took me prisoner.

At the touch of their hands the belief that I was the Messiah promised to the Jews rose up in my heart again, and when the priests asked me if I were the Christ, the Son of the Blessed, I answered, I am, and ye shall see the son of man sitting on the right hand of God; and it was not till I was hanging on the cross for upwards of two hours that the belief I had come down from heaven to do our Father's will faded; again much that I had said seemed to me evil and blasphemous, and feeling myself about to die I called out to my Father, who answered my call at once, bringing Joseph of Arimathea to the foot of the cross to ask the centurion for my body for burial. But the centurion could not deliver me unto him without Pilate's order, and both went to Pilate, and he gave me to Joseph for burial.

Nor did our Father allow the swoon to be lifted till Joseph entered the tomb to kiss me for the last time. It was then he opened my eyes and I saw Joseph standing by me, a lantern in his hand, looking at me ... for the last time before closing the tomb.

He lifted me on to his shoulder and carried me up a little twisting path to his house, and an old woman, named Esora, attended to my wounds with balsam, and when they were cured Joseph began to tell me that my stay in his house was dangerous to him and to me, and he vaunted to me in turn Cæsarea and Antioch as cities in which I should be safe from the Jews. But my mind was so weak and shaken that his reasons faded from my mind and I sat smiling at the sunlight like one bereft of sense. Strive as he might, he could not awaken me from the lethargy in which I was sunken, and every day and every week increased his danger and mine; and it was not till the news came that my old comrades had come to live in the Brook Kerith that my mind began to awaken and to move towards a resolution; an outline began to appear, when I said, I have led my sheep over the hills yonder many a time, and tempted me to speak of you till the desire arose in me to see you again. You remember our arrival one morning at daybreak and my eagerness to see the flock.

Brother Amos was glad to see me back again, and in talking of the flock Joseph was almost forgotten, which shows how wandering my mind was at the time.... He left without seeing me, but not without warning Hazael not to question me else my mind might yield to the strain, saying that it hung on a thread, which was true, and I remember how for many a year every cliff's edge tempted me to jump over. Joseph was gone for ever, and the memory of my sins were as tongues of flame that leaped by turns out of the ashes. But the fiercest ashes grow cold in time; we turn them over without fear of flame, and last night I said to Hazael as we sat together, there is a sin in my life that none knows of, it is buried fathoms deep out of all sight of men, and Hazael having said there was little of the world's time in front of him, I felt suddenly I could not conceal from him any longer the sin that Joseph had not dared to tell him—that I had once believed myself to be a precursor of the Messiah like many that came before me, but unlike any other I began to believe myself to be the incarnate word.

A soft, vague sound, the gurgle of the brook, rose out of the stillness, as it flowed down the gorge from cavern to cavern.

After a little while Hazael called to Manahem and bade him relate to Jesus the story Paul had told them, and when Jesus had heard the story he was overtaken with a great pity for Paul. But thinkest that he will believe thee? Hazael asked, lifting his chin out of his beard, and the calm of Jesus' face was troubled by the question and he sank upon a stool close by Hazael's chair. What may we do? he muttered, and the Essenes withdrew, for they guessed that the elders had serious words to speak together.

Thou hast heard my story, Hazael; nothing remains now but to bid farewell to thy old friend. To say farewell, Jesus, Hazael repeated, why should we say farewell? Hazael, the rule of our order forbids me to stay, Jesus answered; those who commit crimes like mine are cast out and left to starve in the desert. But, Jesus, Hazael replied, thou knowest well that none here would put thee beyond the doors. Thy crimes, whatever they may have been, are between thee and God. It is for thee to repent, and from hill-top to hill-top thou hast prayed for forgiveness, and through all the valleys. All things in the end rest with him. Speak to us not of going. But if God had forgiven me, Jesus answered, and my blasphemies against him, he would not have sent this man hither. And what dost thou propose to do? Hazael asked, raising his head from his beard and looking Jesus in the face.