“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.”
