Iscariot Tapa blanda - 2014

Resumen

Extracto

1



I was six years old the day we fled Jerusalem, and Caesar Augustus was emperor.

I had known nothing but Jerusalem all my life. It was the home of the Temple and navel of the world. Even infected with Roman soldiers and HerodâÈçs stadium, GodâÈçs house was in Jerusalem, and no good man of Israel ever wanted to leave it.

And so I was stunned the day my father, a devout man, announced that we were leaving.

Especially now. Just that morning Father had come bursting into the house with the news that Herod, our king, was dead. I had thought it the happiest day of my life, if only because I had never seen Father so jubilant. He sang that day, one of the hymns of David, as my mother clapped her hands and my older brother Joshua and I went shouting and dancing into the street. We werenâÈçt the only ones. Soon all Jerusalem would erupt with joy.

We were still celebrating when FatherâÈçs friend Aaron came hurrying toward the house. âÈêWhereâÈçs your father? Simon!âÈë he shouted. âÈêTheyâÈçre taking the eagle down!âÈë

Father came out to meet him but Aaron was too excited to even kiss him in greeting. âÈêTheyâÈçve gone to take HerodâÈçs eagle off the Temple!âÈë

Even at the age of six I had heard plenty about this abomination affixed to the great Temple gate, this golden kiss of our king to the buttock of Rome. It was everything a Jew must hate: a graven image, which was an affront to GodâÈçs law, and the symbol of Rome.

âÈêBoys, get inside,âÈë Father said. And then he left for the Temple.

For hours, I imagined him on the shoulders of others, tearing the eagle free to the sound of cheers. But when he returned, his jaw was tight beneath his beard.

âÈêPack what you can carry. Quickly,âÈë he said. âÈêWeâÈçre leaving.âÈë

We left that night, bribing the guard to let us out the small door in the city gate.

All the next day we traveled in silence, my motherâÈçs hand viselike around mine, my brother pale and pensive as he cast furtive glances at my father.

I didnâÈçt know what had happenedâÈ'only that Jerusalem was somehow unsafe and the lines had deepened around FatherâÈçs eyes. I knew better than to press him with questions; I would ask Joshua to explain it all to me later. He was brilliant, my ten-year-old brother. Even then everyone knew he would become a great teacher of the law. And for that reason I wanted to become one, too.

But a few hours later, when I realized I was the farthest from Jerusalem I had ever been, I began to worry.

âÈêFather,âÈë I said. âÈêWill we be home in time for Passover?âÈë

It was my favorite holiday, a time when Joshua and I went with him to buy our lamb and bring it to the Temple priests.

âÈêNo, Judas,âÈë he said. âÈêJerusalem is a tinderbox and God calls us to Galilee.âÈë

âÈêBut whyâÈ'âÈë

âÈêNo more now.âÈë

That night, in the dank lower room of an inn, my brother lay in troubled silence beside me.

I leaned up on my elbow. A lone lamp somewhere on the floor above cast a dull glow across the stairwell; I could just make out JoshuaâÈçs profile staring up at the ceiling.

âÈêHerod isnâÈçt dead,âÈë he said finally. âÈêI heard Father talking with one of the men we traveled with today. It was a rumor. The kingâÈçs sick, but heâÈçs alive.âÈë

âÈêBut Father saidâÈ'âÈë

âÈêHe was wrong. They all were. The rumor gave men the courage to take the eagle down. Until HerodâÈçs soldiers arrived.âÈë He turned and looked at me. âÈêAaron was arrested.âÈë

I stared at him in the darkness.

âÈêIt was the teachers Judas and Matthias who led the charge to the Temple with their students.âÈë

Father and Aaron both had been students of the famous teacher Judas bar Sepphoraeus. It was partially for himâÈ'and for Judas Maccabee, the warrior called the HammerâÈ'that I had been named. The lower room was suddenly far too cold.

âÈêI heard Father say that when they got there Aaron pushed right through the mob. He climbed up on the shoulders of one of the students to help pull the eagle down. But Father couldnâÈçt get through the crowd. So he stood back to watchâÈ'he said he wanted to witness for his sons what would surely become known as the first day of the LordâÈçs coming. They had just gotten the eagle off when the soldiers came. No one heard him trying to warn them through the cheering.âÈë

âÈêThen he didnâÈçt do it!âÈë But even as I said it, I was afraid.

Joshua was silent.

âÈêWill they arrest Father?âÈë

âÈêNo. But thatâÈçs why we left.âÈë

âÈêWhatâÈçll happen to the others?âÈë

âÈêI donâÈçt know.âÈë

âÈêBut what ifâÈ'âÈë

âÈêMotherâÈçs coming. Go to sleep.âÈë

But I couldnâÈçt sleep. Only after Father came down did I even close my eyes, but not before wishing we had traveled through the night. For the first time since leaving Jerusalem, I wished we were a league away.

I dreamed of soldiers. I was used to seeing them throughout the Holy City, coming in and out of the Antonia Fortress or working along the walls and aqueducts, but that night they came to the room where we slept and dragged my father away. I woke up screaming.

âÈêWhatâÈçs this, Judas? Hush,âÈë Father said, drawing me next to him. I could smell the heat of day lingering on his skin. âÈêAll is well. Sleep now.âÈë

I curled beneath the weight of his arm, my eyes open in the dark, until the soldiers became as fleeting as ghosts and there was only the low rumble of his breath beside me.



WE WERE FIFTEEN MILES from the Sea of Galilee by the time we stopped in Scythopolis. It was nearly Purim, the spring feast before Passover.

Scythopolis was the largest city we had come to since Jericho and there was construction everywhere, including a wide street being paved in perfect basalt squares. We passed a building that looked like a temple and I gaped at the statue of a nude man in front of it, the finely chiseled face and full lipsâÈ'the naked sex dangling between his thighs like a cluster of grapes. I had seen few graven images and I had never seen an uncircumcised penis.

âÈêLook away,âÈë Father said. âÈêThis is not the LordâÈçs.âÈë

I did look away, but I was already reconstructing the images in my mindâÈ'of the nude man and wreath-headed others dancing in naked relief across the temple face behind him.

We found an inn run by Jews and that evening, after changing into clean clothing, began our fast and went to the synagogue.

Right in the middle of the reading of the scroll, my stomach began to growl. Joshua leaned over and whispered, âÈêMaybe our fast will bring GodâÈçs kingdom that much more quickly.âÈë

I nodded. I didnâÈçt know exactly what the coming kingdom would look like except that there would be no Romans or Gentiles or Samaritans in it.

Most important, Aaron would not be arrested and Father would be safe.

That night we stayed up late on the roof with the other guests beneath the full moon. At home, my cousins would play games into the night and sleep late the next day, shortening the time until sundown when they could eat at last. But here there were no games, and the little children had already eaten and fallen asleep beside their mothers.

I was by then miserable with hunger, my stomach twisting into a fist. But I knew I must learn to fast if I hoped to be an important teacher like my brother, who listened in on the menâÈçs conversation as though he were one of them already. But as the night wore on I began to pray for the comfort of sleep.

âÈêHerodâÈçs moved all those they rounded up to Jericho,âÈë I heard the innkeeper say. âÈêA merchant brought the news two days ago.âÈë

Joshua nudged me and I realized they were talking about the men who had been arrested. Suddenly I was very awake.

Another man, who had walked with us from the inn to the synagogue earlier, shook his head. âÈêThereâÈçll be no good end for them. Why must they martyr themselves when, in a few more days, Herod will be dead? May the Lord make it so!âÈë

A round of assenting murmurs.

I stared at Joshua, my heart hammering. I didnâÈçt know what a martyr was, but I saw the roundness of my brotherâÈçs eyes, the grim line of FatherâÈçs mouth as all the men began speaking at once.

âÈêThe Romans will still be here.âÈë

âÈêIâÈçd take the Romans over Herod. His own family isnâÈçt even safe from him. Caesar said it right that heâÈçd rather be HerodâÈçs pig than his son.âÈë

âÈêI wouldnâÈçt put it past that whoreson to eat a pig.âÈë

I rolled forward, arms clutched around my middle.

âÈêCome, Judas,âÈë Joshua whispered, motioning me to follow him downstairs. I uncurled in agony to follow him.

He led me to his roll near our things in one of the innâÈçs back rooms. After rummaging around, Joshua took my hand and laid a stale piece of bread in it. âÈêHere. If you donâÈçt eat, youâÈçll be sick like last time.âÈë

I looked from him to the bread, thinking. I should give it back. I should throw it down.

âÈêYou are very zealous,âÈë Joshua said. âÈêBut you are young and not expected to go without food.âÈë

âÈêBut the coming kingdomâÈ'âÈë

âÈêA piece of bread will not make the Romans leave or Herod die any faster. IâÈçm your older brother, arenâÈçt I?âÈë

I nodded, tears welling stupidly in my eyes. I ate the bread in quick bites as I followed Joshua back up to the roof.

I was just swallowing the last of it when a surprised shout broke the nightâÈ'followed quickly by another and the shrill sound of a womanâÈçs voice.

We ran back to the roof to find everyone on their feet staring at the sky. And then I saw why: The moon, so full and white when we had gone down into the house, was partially sheathed in shadow.

âÈêItâÈçs an omen!âÈë someone said. âÈêA sign!âÈë

I blinked at the sky, at the moon half-covered as though with a black lid. Would it go out? What evil could do that?

And then I knew.

I began to tremble, my skin having gone cold and then hot at once. A wail filled my ears. It came from my throat.

âÈêShush, Judas!âÈë My mother pulled me to her. But as she did, my stomach lurched and I doubled over and vomited at her feet. It was only a little amount, the bread having come out in pale bits shamefully illuminated by the light of the disappearing moon. I began to cry, the acrid taste in my mouth and nostrils, as my mother gathered me up and carried me past the mess to the corner. I was by now beside myself, shaking, hot tears tracking down my face.

âÈêItâÈçs my fault!âÈë I cried.

âÈêWhat?âÈë My mother said.

âÈêThe moonâÈ'I did it.âÈë As Eve with her fruit, I had ruined the moon for the sky.

âÈêAh, my dove, no you did notâÈ'what is a little bread to God? I told Joshua to give it to you so you wouldnâÈçt get sick. Hush now,âÈë she said, starting to clean my face. âÈêThis is not about you, Judas.âÈë

But as shouts sounded from other rooftops and the men began to argue about what it meant, I knew better. The world could be ruined by the smallest of actions. For striking a rock, Moses had never entered the Promised Land. And now I had been the skyâÈçs undoing.

I jerked away from my mother, ran to the clot of men, and found my father. I grabbed his sleeve.

âÈêJudas! WhatâÈçs this?âÈë

I fell down to my knees, and he hauled me up under my arms.

âÈêItâÈçs my fault!âÈë

âÈêThis? No, Judas, itâÈçs a portent, a sign. DonâÈçt be afraid. The Lord winks at us. See?âÈë

I cried harder, hiccupping now. He didnâÈçt know the grievousness of my sin. âÈêI ate and see what happened!âÈë I wouldnâÈçt blame my mother or JoshuaâÈ'I alone had eaten the bread.

He blinked at me in the darkness, and then chuckled. It had not bothered me so much that my mother did not understand, but hearing this from my fatherâÈ'and in the face of such obvious disasterâÈ'I felt more alone than I had ever felt in my life.

âÈêDo you think youâÈçve caused this, little Judas? But thereâÈ'see? The moon is emerging again.âÈë

I followed the line of his finger. Sure enough, the shadow had moved a little bit away. I watched as it began to retreat, my fear subsiding the tiniest increment.

He patted my back. âÈêThe Lord wonâÈçt reject you for being a hungry boy. But if it will make you feel better, we will immerse tomorrow.âÈë

The next day I immersed in the synagogue mikva three times to the bafflement of my father and the empathetic observance of my brother. Not until the third time did I feel any measure of relief, and even then not until I went outside that evening and saw that the moon was whole once more.



THE NEWS CAME BEFORE we left Scythopolis: Herod had died the night of the eclipseâÈ'but not before burning two of JerusalemâÈçs great teachers and forty of their students at the stake in Jericho. My father broke out with a great cry and tore his clothes. Joshua did likewise.

I simply cried.

The students who said they had not instigated the taking down of the eagle survived, and I hated them for it. I hated them because I knew Aaron was not among themâÈ'Aaron who would have condemned Herod until the last of his life for sheer love of the law. And then I cried harder because I wished he had not loved the law so much.

For nights to come I shivered beneath my blanket and dreamed of the students burning in the fires.



THOUGH I THOUGHT I shouldnâÈçt love Sepphoris, I did. I shouldnâÈçt, because it was far from Jerusalem, and her fortress seemed to inhabit a world that knew no such thing as the holy Temple. And I should not love it because it was HerodâÈçs, and even though Herod was dead, his sons were eagle-kissers just like him who wanted everything RomanâÈ'down to the scraps of power the empire threw them like crusts to dogs.

But I loved it because Father was safe. Nothing could touch us here.

I came to know Sepphoris by its sounds. Voices of children my own age wafted up from farther down the hill where the farmers kept their houses and tended their vineyards. Roosters crowed throughout the day. At times I could hear one of the distant shepherds playing a flute. And always there was birdsong.

That spring when it rained, water trickled from the roof into the channels of the cisterns below. It was a good sound, the sound of water. Moss clung to the stones of the houses, so that even on sunny days the air near any house seemed to smell of rain as pines rustled overhead.

We stayed with my fatherâÈçs cousin, EleazarâÈ'a priest who helped place Joshua and me with a teacher who was so impressed with JoshuaâÈçs early abilities that he called him âÈêlittle rabbi.âÈë

I saw how everyone looked at him with ready fascination, as though such a boy might be proof that God had not forgotten us, but planted in the soil of this generation the mustard seed of a greatness unknown by the last. And though I knew I would never be JoshuaâÈçs equal, I didnâÈçt care. People would say, âÈêThere goes the brother of Joshua bar Simon. What is his name? Ah, thatâÈçs rightâÈ'Judas.âÈë And that would be enough.

That year was the first that I did not go to the Temple for Passover. Instead, we watched the families that left together, my heart full of jagged envy as they sang their psalms out the city gate.

Eleazar had fallen ill weeks before and been unable to leave with the rest of the priests. I saw the way his wife, old Zipporah, covered her face with her hands when she thought no one was looking. It made me afraid for Eleazar, whom I had grown fond of, and I prayed for him. I immersed so often that my brother got angry with me and told me that even the Pharisees didnâÈçt wash that much, nor the Essenes, who were so extreme as to not move their bowels on the Sabbath. Was I going to keep from that as well?

I did briefly consider it, but I knew better than to rely on my stomach to do what it was told.

We celebrated Passover in the synagogue and at the home of Eleazar, who had recovered in what seemed like a miracle, claiming it was Mother and ZipporahâÈçs good lamb stew.

Then, a few days later, the first pilgrims began to return.

Too early.

We had just gathered for the evening meal when EleazarâÈçs nephew came into the house, tearing at his hair.

âÈêThey slaughtered them with their sacrifices!âÈë he shouted.

âÈêWhatâÈçs this?âÈë Eleazar demanded, rising from his seat.

âÈêThe new king sent his guard to the Temple the day before the feastâÈ'a guard of foreign mercenaries. Some of the pilgrims started throwing stones at them in protest. The king retaliated by sending in his army. They massacred the people. PilgrimsâÈ'men, women, children. Thousands dead!âÈë

Father staggered, the color gone from his face. The house that night was filled with MotherâÈçs and ZipporahâÈçs weeping and the groans of Eleazar, who sounded less like a weathered old priest than just a broken old man.

Three thousand died in the massacre that Passover. The tinderbox had exploded.

It was only the beginning.

Reseñas en medios