“Uh—oh—oh—uh—uh—uh,
uh, uh—ah—yes, oh, yes, uh—aaah!”
“You
all right, honey?”
“Oh...oh,
yeah, I’m fantastic. Just need a bit of time to recover. Thanks,
Miriam. That was sensational—as always. You’re still the best,
after all this time.”
“That’s
sweet of you, Sh’muel. We each serve according to our separate
gifts.”
“He
say that?”
“More
or less.”
“You
knew him, didn’t you.”
“Very
well. Intimately, you might say.”
“So...what
was he like? Putting aside the hype and all? How did it feel when you
were with him?”
“Cherished.
Beloved. Enveloped in warm, nurturing light.”
“You
were special to him.”
“Everyone
felt that way, Sh'muel. That was his gift. Total,
unconditional love. Perfect compassion. It didn’t matter who you
were, what you did for a living, what country you came from or what
gods you worshiped. What so-called sins you had committed. He loved
us all. We couldn’t help loving him back.”
“Even
Judas Iscariot?”
“Of
course. Poor Judas might have loved him more than anyone. Most of us
were too selfish to fulfill the master’s will. We wanted to keep
him alive, with us, so we could continue to bask in his incredible
light. Even if that undermined his ultimate purpose.”
“It
must have been hard to let him go.”
“Torture.
I wept non-stop for two weeks. It felt like my heart had been torn
from my body, leaving nothing but a vacant, echoing gap. I wanted to
kill myself, to tell you the truth, but I knew he wouldn’t approve.
It took a long time before I understood that he really wasn’t gone
at all. That his light could never be extinguished—unless I allowed
it to be.”
“I’m—um—kind
of surprised you went back to your old profession. Afterwards, I
mean.”
“His
mother never liked me. She never felt I was good enough for her
precious Yeshua. I don’t blame her. We all have our flaws, our
blind spots. Anyway, I didn’t feel comfortable with the direction
the disciples were taking. Celibacy just doesn’t suit me.”
“I’m
grateful for that!”
“I’ll
bet you are, you old goat!”
“So,
tell me Miriam—what about the sex? Was it different? Better than
with an ordinary man?”
“You
want me to kiss and tell? Naughty boy! I keep your secrets—I’ll
certainly keep his. But I will say this—he was as lusty and eager
as anyone else. Not the pale, emasculated, passionless figure that
some of the communities worship these days. He was flesh and blood,
full of juice and joy.”
“So
what do you think? Was he really the Messiah?”
“You
know, Sh'muel, I don’t really care. All I know is that everyone he
touched was changed for the better. His love kindled ours. We wanted
to please him, honor him, and so we tried, in our own poor imperfect
way, to be like him. Each according to our gifts. Speaking of
which...”
“Mmm—oh,
that feels so good!”
“Looks
like you’re ready for another round.”
“Oh—ah—oh,
God, I’d love to, but until next month’s harvest, I don’t have
the shekels to spare.”
“It’s
on the house, honey. Because you’re such a loyal customer and such
a sweet guy.”
“Ooh—oh,
Miriam! You’re a saint... What can I do in return? Can I give one
of next spring’s lambs?”
“Just
feel my love, Sh'muel. Feel it, and pass it on.”
3 comments:
HA HA HA! Have you ever read Lamb, by Christopher Moore? He's written lots of books after that-he's my husband's favorite author (even more than me! Bad boy!) But Lamb was about the story of Jesus' life from when he was about 12. Another 12-year-old boy, Biff, sees Jesus playing with his younger brother--the brother gives a dead frog to Jesus, who puts it into his mouth and brings it back to life. He gives it to his brother, who dashes it against a rock, killing it. Then he hands it to Jesus again. Biff watches for a while, then walks over to ask, "Can I play?" Jesus looks at him seriously, asking, "Which part do you want to play?" Thus starts a friendship that lasts for many years. My dad, who had briefly studied to be a minister before becoming disillusioned and turning into an atheist, said that the most you have read the Bible and other encyclicals, the more you appreciate the wit of the book. Husband, raised in Catholic schools, said the same thing. This story reminded me of that book! Clever.
I haven't read "Lamb" but I can see the connection.
Personally, I do feel a close connection between sex and Spirit.
Husband and I believe that God is the life force that lives within every living thing. There is God in a cockroach, and God in humans, and God in plants. God created life, so God is experiencing life by being in all of it. We should be vegetarians, but I can't get husband to agree to that--he does love his beef.
But sex? There's what I used to call "rec-sex", recreational sex, done just because it feels good. Nothing wrong with that, when you're young and experimenting, trying to find out what it is you like and what you don't. That's how you learn what you want for the long-term. But truly meaningful sex, the kind that makes a relationship last by growing year after year, requires a whole different kind of sex--the kind where you melt into one-another, to create a new whole. I've actually used the phrase in a few of my romances, when the sex is so exceptional, that the participants feel like they can reach up and touch the face of God to say "thank-you" as they achieve sexual nirvana.
Long way to say I agree with you!
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