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Later, when it became clear that the woman would never bear a child of his and resentment would have been expected, the man neither sent her away nor changed his attitude toward the youngster. Instead he gave his son everything he could and taught him what he knew. A craftsman, his instructions were in the form of example. He did not use words to tell the youth how to live or how to make things, instead he demonstrated.
This was in stark contrast with what Jesse, a precocious youngster, saw all around him. Everywhere people were denigrated by others for supposed faults that seemed to him to be mere matters of taste. Even the law was so complex that no reasonable person could be expected to understand it, much less follow it, in all of its convolutions. The penalties meted out by individuals and society were extreme and, in many cases, excuses for revenge for imagined slights or simple envy.
His father’s love, on the other hand, did not wavier, not even when it was apparent that Jesse had no sexual interest in women. The boy’s many differences from himself were a constant reminder of his paternity. In contrast to his own reticence, the youth was a talker. Where the man passed almost unnoticed by his contemporaries, the lad was sought out as a companion.
Jesse wanted nothing more than to work by his father’s side, to be with this man he admired and loved. On becoming a young man himself, he stayed long after most sons would have struck out on their own. So his father’s death was a great blow.
As soon as the body had been buried and his mother comforted, Jesse told her that he needed to get away for a while, to be alone to think things through. He stayed away for over a month. During this time Jesse called out to his farther, questioning him about the great complexities of existence. He believed that he received answers to these questions.
Goodness was in being kind to people. Rather than trying to improve others, a person should try to perfect himself. The spirit of a good man, his father in particular, was not extinguished with the decay of the body, but continued in a different place. He could be called upon for guidance in the challenges of daily living. Jesse determined that, by telling others the lessons he had learned, he could keep his father vital for them and for himself.
*****
I, of course, knew none of this when, barely a man myself, I first saw Jesse. He and his friends came to my village. Itinerant story tellers were our chief form of entertainment, but most of them lacked so numerous an entourage. Jesse stood out from the group by virtue of his radiant charm and the obvious deference paid to him by the others.
It was lucky for me that I lived in so small a community. In a town, the crowds that would accumulate around him might have prevented my getting close enough to affect his notice. The group that gathered by our village well to hear his stories was but a little larger than the one that came with him. I managed to slip between bigger fellows and occupy a position in the front. I had to do this, otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to see.
As is our custom, all of the stories had a religious theme there somewhere. Interesting embellishments were expected, and much appreciated. But within the required forms there was a compelling message delivered with much beauty of language. This fellow gave an stunning performance. I was captivated, not to mention, infatuated.
I smiled at him without shame. At times I felt that he was speaking just to me, for my benefit. Such was my conceit and his brilliance. He had that special ability of exceptional orators to make each member of the audience sense a personal connection.
When Jesse finished and asked where he and his following might find lodging, an older man offered rude accommodations. I followed at a distance, unwilling as yet to sever the connection that I had felt. It being hot, the group remained outside, sitting in the shade of the building.
As though by chance, I took a position some ten strides away. Sitting on the ground and leaning against a wall, I could watch them without seeming to be doing so. Unfortunately they spoke too quietly for me to hear clearly whatever it was that they were saying to each other.
Two of the men rose and left nearly at the same time. Obviously they had been sent to find food, for they returned a short time later with bread, cheese, fruit and wine. Whether they paid for these things or they were given to them, I do not know. In any case, they proceeded to share out the comestibles and to eat.
Then one of them left the group and came to where I was sitting. “Would you care to join us?” the man asked me. I couldn’t believe my good luck at being singled out for such a privilege. Later I learned that it was their custom to share their meal with the needy, for which they had mistaken me.
I came forward gladly and took a place in their midst, happily accepting hunks of cheese and bread from the man who had taken the trouble to invite me. I nibbled these very slowly in order to prolong my stay and remain close to their leader. Or perhaps I should say, their teacher. Much of their conversation, when it was not mundane, consisted of questioning and answering with correction supplied by Jesse.
I kept my mouth shut. In truth, I was spell bound. My mind behaved more like a sponge than a fountain. Having nothing to contribute, I listened. To my dismay, they spoke of love, love for each other, love for others, even for those who did not reciprocate. Jesse talked of love from his father, who was so magnanimous that this love was not for his son alone, but for all of them and for everyone.
Love, I was in love, and the object of my love was Jesse. He was so wonderful, so handsome, so kind, so good. He was perfect. Of course, I understood that I was unworthy, but I wanted him anyway. Brazen, when they trooped inside at nightfall, I followed as though I had been asked. I was grateful that no one seemed to notice my presumption.
Expecting to be thrown out at any moment, I kept to the side and tried to make myself as unobtrusive as possible. They continued their discussions long into the night. A single lamp threw a pale glow on faces and the lighter garments. I fell asleep.
They stayed in my village for two more days. Ever so gradually, I worked my way closer. Whenever he looked at me, I caught my breath, my heart seemed to stop and I felt faint. I was sure that at any moment someone would tell me to leave. At other times, I thought that they were laughing at me for being so obvious.
No one mentioned leaving prior to the morning of departure. I was informed by the bustle of gathering belongings and sweeping out the room. My spirits sank at this prospect and the realization of my failure. I had been so hesitant to act that the opportunity was about to be lost. By my timidity, I had sacrificed my chances. Misery was to be my lot.
Then, “Are you coming with us?” Jesse asked me, quite unexpectedly. These were the first words that he had unquestionably directed to me and to me alone.
Taken by surprise, I stammered, “I’d have to leave my parents.”
“Yes,” he said. His tone of voice was quiet and kind. By this I believed that he wanted me to come with them, but it was up to me. Whatever my choice, he would understand and it would be all right.
*****
After this, I gave up reticence. I walked at his side whenever possible. When he sat, I sat next to him. I was forever leaning against him, resting my head on his shoulder, catching his hand in mine. At night, pretending sleep, I would turn over until our bodies touched. Jesse was patient with my need for him, neither encouraging nor spurning my advances.
Sometimes, lying awake, we would engage in whispered conversation. On one of those nights, I took his arm and placed it over me. He left it there and I went to sleep in his embrace. A few evenings later I took off my own robe and crawled inside of his. Jesse calmly accepted my gift.
Thus, I entered a period of sublime happiness. Months passed quickly as we trooped from place to place. Anxious to please, I tried to make myself useful to the members of our group by running errands or performing other little services. Whenever I saw an opportunity to be helpful, I offered my assistance. In retrospect, I see that I was an awful pest.
Word of Jesse and his stories spread. The gatherings that greeted us in each place we visited gradually increased in size. There were many memorable scenes and events. Good fortune seemed to surround us so completely that its benefits were felt by many of those who came to hear Jesse’s message.
The first hint of change that I noticed was the occasional presence of a heckler. I was too naive to appreciate its significance at the time. Now I understand these things better.
Our society is very tolerant of crackpots, even appreciative, up to a point. Well, we have so many of them. But if it begins to appear that the general population may take the person seriously, his activities are scrutinized. Although Jesse always said that people should obey the law and their leaders, his message was fundamentally in opposition to both. Thus, his effect had the potential to be subversive.
The established powers in the land have several methods of dealing with this sort of challenge. One is to discredit the source, which was the assignment of the hecklers. If that fails and a movement develops, the leader can be eliminated. Finally, when that does not prevent a revolution, the group is infiltrated, taken over, and gradually modified into something acceptable. The fallen leader is revered in name while his message withers.
*****
The numbers of people who came to hear Jesse became ever larger. It was as though his words were food and drink to them. But even as such success was occurring, problems began to develop within our little band. I may have been the cause, or at least a reason.
There was resentment of what appeared to the inner circle to be favoritism shown to me by Jesse. In fact, each of his associates was favored by him in some way special and for that person alone. Perhaps some tended to see what he did for others yet were blind to what he did for them.
Realizing what was happening, Jesse found a way to give to the others symbolically what I was receiving. He reassured them of his love in every way possible. This satisfied all but one. That one, distraught, was turned by the authorities and became an informer.
I did not recognize the significance of these events at the time, unlike Jesse who seemed to understand everything. I was distracted from an awareness of our problems by the arrival of his mother. She joined us just before we were to travel to the provincial capital.
I had met her before. Jesse would plan his sojourn as a series of loops so that he could visit several times in a year. Recognizing in each other our mutual devotion to Jesse, we became good friends. This might not have been the case, except that we both were secondary to his mission, and we knew it.
*****
What happened next is too painful for me to relate in detail. They decided that Jesse had become too much of a threat and he was removed. It was legalized murder, done in their usual brutal fashion. His mother and I saw it all.
I suppose that it was sharing this trauma that joined us. Certainly, at the time, we clung to each other in our despair. When the little group scattered, we stayed together. Probably she thought that she should take care of me. I know that I thought that of her. Not wanting to be anywhere that held too many memories or would be dangerous, we went quite far away.
Almost immediately, there were reports that Jesse had not really died. He had been seen here or there, by this person or that. This appeared to abet members of the little group who tried to carry on Jesse’s mission. Ultimately, that became counterproductive. The movement became a cult of personality, something Jesse would have abhorred. He never wanted to be a distraction from his father’s message. In spite of his sacrifice, the old ways of greed and hatefulness persisted.
As for me, I have been cursed with long life.
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