The Light of Other Days

part 2: THE EYES OF GOD Chapter 21 - BEHOLD THE MAN
Extracted from the Introduction by David Curzon to The 12,000 Days: A Preliminary Commentary, eds. S. P. Kozlov and G. Risha, Rome 2040:

The international scholarly project known popularly as the 12,000 Days has reached the conclusion of its first phase. I was one of a team of (actually a little more than) twelve thousand WormCam observers worldwide who were assigned to study the historical life and times of the man known to His contemporaries as Yesho Ben Pantera, and to later generations as Jesus Christ.. It is an honor to be asked to pen this introduction. -..

We have always known that when we meet Jesus in the Gospels, we see Him through the eyes of the evangelists. For example Matthew believed that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, as appeared to be predicted by the Old Testament prophet Micah; and so he reports Jesus as being born in Bethlehem (though Jesus, the Galilean, was in fact- naturally enough-born in Galilee).

We understand this; we compensate for it. But how many Christians over the centuries have longed to meet Jesus for themselves through the neutral medium of a camera-or better still, face-to-face? And how many would have believed that ours would be the first generation for which such a meeting would be possible?

But that is precisely what has happened.

Each of we Twelve Thousand was assigned a single Day of the short life of Jesus: a Day which we would observe with WormCam technology-in real time, from midnight to midnight. In this way a first draft "true" biography of Jesus could rapidly be compiled.

This visual biography and attached reports are no more than a first draft: a simple observation, a laying-out of the events of Jesus" tragically brief life. There is much subsidiary research to be done. For example, even the identities of the fourteen Apostles (not twelve!) have yet to be determined, and the fate of His brothers, sisters, wife and child are known only sketchily. Then will come the mapping of the blunt events of the central human story against the various accounts, canonical and apocryphal, which survived to tell us of Jesus and His ministry.

And then, of course, the true debate will begin: a debate into the meaning of Jesus and His ministry-a debate which may last as long as the human race itself.

This first encounter has not been easy. But already the clear light of Galilee has burned away many falsehoods.

David lay in his couch and tested its systems: the VR apparatus itself, the nursing agents which would manage the intravenous feeds and catheters, turn his abandoned body to reduce the risk of bedsores-even clean him if he desired, as if he were a coma victim.

Bobby sat before him, in this quiet, darkened room, his face shining in complex SoftScreen light.

David felt absurd amid all this gear, like an astronaut preparing for launch. But that Day of long ago, embedded in time like an insect in amber, unchanging and brilliant, was waiting for his inspection; and he submitted.

David lifted the Mind'sEye headset and settled it over his bead. He felt the familiar squirming texture as die headset wrapped itself tightly around his temples.

He fought panic. To think that people subjected themselves to this for mere entertainment"

...And light burst over him, hard and brilliant.

He was born in Nazareth, a small and prosperous Galilean hill town. The birth was routine-for the time. He was indeed born to a Mary, who had been a virgin-a Temple Virgin.

As his contemporaries knew Him, Jesus Christ was the illegitimate son of a Roman legionary, an Illyrian called Pantera.

It was a relationship based on love, not coercion-even though Mary had been betrothed at the time to Joseph, a prosperous master builder and widower. But Pantera was transferred from the district when Mary's pregnancy became known. It is to Joseph's credit that he took in Mary and raised the boy as his own.

Nevertheless Jesus was not ashamed of His origin, and would later style Himself Yesho Ben Pantera: that is, Jesus, son of Pantera,

That is the sum of the historical facts of Jesus" birth. Any deeper mystery lies beyond the reach of any WormCam.

There was no census, no trek to Bethlehem, no stable, no manger, no cattle, no wise men, no shepherds, no Star. All of that-devised by the evangelists to show how this boy-child was a fulfillment of prophecy-was no more than an invention.

The WormCam is stripping away many of our illusions about ourselves and our past. There are those who argue that the WormCam is a mass therapy tool which is enabling us to become more sane as a species. Perhaps. But it is a hard heart which does not mourn the debunking of the Christmas story! ..,

He was standing on a beach. He could feel the heat like a heavy moist blanket, and sweat prickled on his forehead.

To his left there were hills, folded in green, and to his right a blue sea lapped softly. On the horizon, mist laden, he could make out fishing boats, brown-blue shadows as still and flat as cardboard cutouts. On the northern shore of the sea, perhaps five kilometers distant, he could make out a town: a clutter of brown-walled, flat-roofed buildings. That must be Capernaum. He knew he could use the Search Engine to be there in an instant. But it seemed more appropriate to walk.

He closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, hear the lapping of water, smell grass and the sourness of fish. The light here was so bright that it shone, pink, through his closed eyelids. But in the comer of his eye, within his eyelid, glowed a small gold OurWorld logo.

He set off, the sharp coolness of the Galilee water at his feet.

...He had several brothers and sisters, and also some half-siblings (from Joseph's previous marriage). One of His brothers, James, bore a remarkable similarity to Him, and would go on to lead the Church (at any rate a strand of it) after Jesus" death.

Jesus was apprenticed to His uncle Joseph of Arimathea-not as a carpenter, but a builder. He spent much of His late youth and early manhood in the city of Sepphoris, five kilometers north of Nazareth.

Sepphoris was a major city-the largest in Judaea, in fact, apart from Jerusalem and the capital of Galilee. There was a great deal of work for builders, masons and architects in the city at this time, for Sepphoris had been largely destroyed by a Ro man action against a Jewish uprising in the year 4 B.C.

His time in Sepphoris was significant for Jesus. For here, Jesus became cosmopolitan.

He was exposed to Hellenic culture, for example through Greek Theater, and-most significantly- to the Pythagorean tradition of number and proportion. Jesus even attached Himself, for a time, to a Jewish Pythagorean group called the Essenes. This was in turn part of a much older tradition that spanned Europe-it had, in fact, reached as far as the Druids of Britain.

Jesus became, not a humble carpenter, but a craftsman in a highly sophisticated and ancient tradition. Joseph's trade would lead the young Jesus to travel extensively throughout the Roman world.

Jesus" life was full. He married. (The Bible story of the marriage of Cana, with water turning into wine, seems to have been embroidered from an incident at Jesus" own wedding.) His wife died in childbirth; He did not remarry. But the child survived, a daughter. She disappeared in the confusion surrounding the end of her father's life. (The search for this daughter of Jesus, and any descendants living today, is one of the most active areas of WormCam research.)

But Jesus was restless. At a precociously early age He began to formulate His own philosophy.

This could be regarded, simplistically, as based on a peculiar synthesis of Mosaic with Pythagorean lore: Christianity would grow out of this collision between Eastern mysticism and Western logic. Jesus saw Himself, metaphorically, as a mean between God and mankind-and the concept of the mean, particularly the Golden Mean, was of course the subject of much contemplation in the Pythagorean tradition.

He was, and would always remain, a good Jew.

But He did develop strong ideas about how the practice of His religion could be bettered.

He began to cultivate friendships among those His family deemed definitely unsuitable for a man of His station: the poor, criminals. He even forged shadowy links with various groups of Iestai, would be insurrectionists.

He argued with His family, and He left for Capemaum, where He would live with friends.

And, during these years. He began to practice miracles.

Two men were walking toward him.

They were shorter than he was, but stockily well muscled, each with thick black hair tied back behind his head. Their clothing was functional, what looked like one-piece cotton shifts with deep, well-used pockets. They were walking at the edge of the sea, careless as small waves broke over their feet. They looked forty, but were probably younger. They were healthy, well fed, prosperous; they were probably merchants, he thought.

They were so immersed in their conversation they hadn't noticed him yet.

...No, he reminded himself. They could not see David-for he hadn't been there, on that long-gone day when this sun-drenched conversation had taken place. They were all unaware that a man of their remote future would one day marvel at them, a man with the ability to make this everyday moment come alive and run through, again and again, utterly changeless.

He flinched as the men collided softly with him. The light seemed to dim, and he no longer felt the stones" sharpness beneath his feet.

But then they were past, walking away from him, their conversation not disturbed by so much as a word by his ghostly encounter. And the vivid "reality" of the landscape was restored, as smoothly as if he had adjusted the controls on some invisible SoftScreen.

He walked on, toward Capernaum.

Jesus was able to "cure" mind-mediated and placebo diseases such as back pains, stuttering, ulcers, stress, hay fever, hysterical paralysis and blindness, even false pregnancies. Some of the "cures" are remarkable, and very moving to witness. But they were restricted to those whose belief in Jesus was stronger than their belief in their illness. And, like every other "healer" before or since, Jesus was unable to cure deeper organic illnesses. (To His credit, He never claimed He could.)

His healing miracles naturally attracted a great following. But what distinguished Jesus from the many other hasidim of His day was the message He preached with His healing.

Jesus believed that the Messianic Age promised by the prophets would come-not when the Jews were militarily victorious, but when they became pure of heart. He believed that this inner purity was to be achieved not just through a life of outer virtue, but through a submission to the terrible mercy of God. And He believed that this mercy extended to the whole of Israel: to the untouchables, the impure, the outcasts and the sinners. Through His healing and exorcisms He demonstrated the reality of that love.

Jesus was the Golden Mean between the divine and the human. No wonder His appeal was electric;

He seemed able to make the most wretched sinner feel close to God.

But few in this occupied nation were sophisticated enough to understand His message. Jesus grew impatient at the clamoring demands for Him to reveal Himself as the Messiah. And the Iestai who were attracted to His charismatic presence began to see in Him a convenient focal point for a rising against the hated Romans.

Trouble coalesced.

David wandered through the small, boxy rooms like a ghost, watching the people, women, servants and children, come and go.

The house was more impressive than he had expected. It was built on the pattern of a Roman villa, with a central open atrium and various rooms opening off it, in the manner of a cloister. The setting was very Mediterranean, the light dense and bright, the rooms open to the still air.

Already, so early in Jesus" ministry, there was a permanent encampment outside the house walls: the sick, the lame, would-be pilgrims, a miniature tent city.

Later, a house church would be built on this site, and then, in the fifth century, a Byzantine church that would survive to David's own day-together with the legend of those who had once lived here.

Now there was noise outside the house: the sound of running feet, .people calling. He walked briskly outside.

Most of the inhabitants of the tent city-some of them showing surprising alacrity-were making their way toward the glimmering sea, which David glimpsed between the houses. He followed the gathering crowd, towering above the people around him, and he tried to ignore the stink of unwashed humanity, much of it extrapolated by the controlling software with unwelcome authenticity; the direct detection of scent through WormCams was still an unreliable business.

The crowd spread out as they reached the rudimentary harbor. David made his way through the crush to the water's edge, ignoring the temporary dimmings as Galileans brushed past or through him in their eagerness.

There was a single boat on the still water. It was perhaps six meters long, wooden, its construction crude. Four men were patiently rowing toward the shore; beside a stocky helmsman at the stem was a piled-up fishing net.

Another man was standing at the prow, facing the people on the shore.

David heard eager muttering. He had been preaching, from the boat, at other sites along the shore. He had a commanding voice which carried well across the water, this Yesho, this Jesus.

David struggled to see Him more clearly. But the light on the water was dazzling.

...And so we must turn, with reluctance, to the true story of the Passion,

Jerusalem-sophisticated, chaotic, built of the radiantly bright white local stone-was crowded this Passover with pilgrims come to eat the Paschal Lamb within the confines of the holy city, as tradition demanded. And the city also contained a heavy presence of Roman soldiers.

And, this Passover, it was a place of tension. There were many insurrectionist groups working here: for example the Zealots, fierce opponents of Rome, and iscarii, assassins who would customarily work the large festival crowds.

Into this historic crucible walked Jesus and His followers.

Jesus" group ate their Passover feast. (But there was no rehearsal of the Eucharist: no commandment by Jesus to take bread and wine in memory of Him, as if they were fragments of His own body. This rite is evidently an invention of the evangelists. That night, Jesus had much on His mind; but not the invention of a new religion.)

We know now that Jesus had links to many of the sects and groups which operated at the fringe of His society. But Jesus" intent was not insurrection.

Jesus made His way to the place called Gethsemane-where olive trees still grow today, some of them (we can verify now) survivors from Jesus" own day. Jesus had worked to cleanse Judaism of sectarianism. He thought He would meet the authorities and leaders of various rebel groups here, and seek a peaceful unity. As ever, Jesus sought to be the Golden Mean, a bridge between these groups in conflict

But the humanity of Jesus" rime was no more rational than that of any other era- He was met by a group of armed soldiers sent by the chief priests. And the events thereafter unfolded with a deadly, familiar logic.

The Trial was no grand theological event. All that mattered to the High Priest-a tired, conscientious, worn-down old man-was to maintain public order. He knew he had to protect his people from the Romans" savage reprisals by accepting the lesser evil of handing over this difficult, anarchistic faith healer.

That done, the High Priest returned to his bed, and an uncomfortable sleep.

Pilate, the Roman Procurator, had to come out to meet priests who would not enter his Praetorium for fear of being defiled. Pilate was a competent, cruel man, a representative of an occupying power centuries old. Yet he too hesitated, it seems for fear of inciting worse violence by executing a popular leader.

We have now witnessed the fears and loathing and dreadful calculations which motivated the men facing each other that dark night-and each of them, no doubt, believed he was doing the right thing.

Once his decision was made, Pilate acted with brutal efficiency. Of what followed, we know the dreadful details too well. It was not even a grand spectacle-but then the Passion of Christ is an event which has taken not two days, but two thousand years to unfold.

But mere is still much we do not know. The moment of His death is oddly obscured; WormCam exploration there is limited. Some scientists have speculated that there is such a density of viewpoints in those key seconds that the fabric of spacetime itself is being damaged by wormhole intrusions. And these viewpoints are presumably sent down by observers from our own future-or perhaps from a multiplicity of possible futures, if what lies ahead of us is undetermined.

So we still have not heard His last words to His mother; we still do not know if-beaten, dying, bewildered-He cried out to His God. Even now, despite all our technology, we see Him through a glass darkly.

At the center of the town there was a market square, already crowded. Suppressing a shudder, David forced himself to push through the people.

At the center of the crowd a soldier, crudely uniformed, was holding a woman by one arm. She looked wretched, her robe torn, her hair matted and filthy, her plump, once-pretty face streaked by crying. Beside her were two men in fine, clean religious garb. Perhaps they were priests, or Pharisees. They were pointing to the woman, gesticulating angrily, and arguing with a figure before them, who-hidden by the crowd-was squatting in the dust.

David wondered if this incident had left any trace in the Gospels. Perhaps this was the woman who had been I condemned for adultery, and the Pharisees were con; fronting Jesus with another of their trick questions, trying to expose His blasphemy.

The man in the dust had a phalanx of friends. They were sturdy-looking men, perhaps fishermen; gently but firmly they were keeping the crushing crowds away- But still-David could see as he approached, wraithlike- some of the people were coming near, reaching out a tentative hand to touch a robe, even stroke a lock of hair.

I do not think His death-humiliated, broken- need remain the center of our obsession with Jesus, as it has been for two thousand years. For me the zenith of His life as I have witnessed it is the moment when Pilate produces Him, already tortured and bloody, to be mocked by the soldiers, sacrificed by His own people.

With everything He had intended apparently in ruins, perhaps already feeling abandoned by God, Jesus should have been crushed. And yet He stood straight. A man immersed in His time, defeated and yet unbeaten. He is Gandhi, He is Saint Francis, He is Wilberforce, He is Elizabeth Fry, He is Father Damien among the lepers. He is His own people, and the dreadful suffering they would endure in the name of the religion founded in His name.

The major religions have all faced crises as their origins and tangled pasts had become open to scrutiny. None of them have emerged unscathed; some have collapsed altogether. But religion is not simply about morality, or the personalities of founders and practitioners. It is about the numinous, a higher dimension of our nature- And there are still those who hunger for the transcendent, the meaning of it all.

Already-cleansed, reformed, refounded-the Church is beginning to offer consolation to many people left bewildered by the demolition of privacy and historic certainty.

Perhaps we have lost Christ. But we have found Jesus. And His example can still lead us into an unknown future-even if that future holds only the Wormwood, and our religions" only remaining role is to comfort us,

And yet history still holds surprises for us: for one of the most peculiar yet stubborn legends about the life of Jesus has, against all expectation, been born out...

The man in the dust was thin. His hair severely pulled back, prematurely greying at the temples. His robe was stained with dust and trailed in the dirt. His nose was prominent, proud and Roman, His eyes black, fierce, intelligent. He seemed angry, and was drawing in the dust with one finger.

This silent, brooding man had the measure of the Pharisees, without even the need to speak.

David stepped forward. Beneath his feet he could feel the dust of this Capernaum marketplace. He reached forward to the hem of that robe.

...But, of course, his fingers slid through the cloth; and, though the sun dimmed, David felt nothing.

The man in the dust looked up and gazed directly into David's eyes.

David cried out. The Galilean light dissipated, and the concerned face of Bobby hovered before him.

As a young man, following a well-established trade route with His uncle, Joseph of Arimathea, Jesus visited the tin mine area of Comwall With companions. He traveled further inland, as far as Glastonbury-at the time a significant port- where He studied with the Druids, and helped design and build a small house, on the future site of Glastonbury Abbey. This visit is remembered, after a fashion, in scraps of local folklore.

We have lost so much. The harsh glare of the WormCam has revealed so many of our fables to be things of shadows and whispers: Atlantis has evaporated like dew; King Arthur has stepped back into the shadows from which he never truly emerged. And yet it is after all true, as Blake sang, that those feet in ancient time did walk upon England's mountains green.