Next installment of my new historical novel: Peter and Paul.
For Shimon the night was strangely relaxing. Even as Morpheus
embraced his tired bones, his mind seemed to reach back to happier times. His
eyes, under his eyelids, drifted back, until he saw vague reflections of a
dying fire. Yeshûa was standing in the middle of the circle of his friends, his
lose robe swaying a little in the shore-bound wind. It was a warm, balmy night.
All his friends, the disciples, often spent the night, outdoors, together, at
the sandy shores of the Sea of Galilee.
A smile displaced the almost permanent frown on Shimon’s tired face. He
felt the gentle breeze on his cheeks; Yeshûa’s voice, gentle, persuasive,
removing all worry from his mind.
Shimon was happy. Again.
They sat in a
circle, listening to Yeshûa talk. It was very different from the times when the
Master talked to the masses of people who, for some time now, were following
Yeshûa wherever He went.
When he preached to
them, he preached how to live, here, on earth, how to manage their life, how to
overcome difficulties that arose between various people. Essentially, he taught
them that when they eliminate strife and selfishness, and greed and
selfishness, life would become easier. For everyone. For them and for others.
He taught them how to live. How to conduct their ordinary, everyday life.
His teaching was
very simple. If you love one another, He’d said, then you eliminate all
enemies; you become surrounded by friends, and friends, He said, help one
another. What can be simpler?
But when Shimon and
the chosen few, the twelve of them, and Yeshûa were alone, away from being
overheard by others, He talked of different things. He talked of His Kingdom.
He taught that whatever we think of, whatever we feel deeply about, creates an
echo in a reality which is akin to a dream. And that is why, He’d said, it is
not what we do that matters so much, but what we think and feel. These are the
two foundation stones of my Kingdom, He’d said. This is where we become masters
of our own domain, where we are truly in the image and likeness of our father.
Where our will is the most powerful force in the universe. On earth and in
heaven. This is where Ye are gods, he repeated, many a time. This is where ye
are gods.
None of this is real… He repeated often,
though only when they were alone. Unless you accept this truth, you cannot
enter the Kingdom of Heaven, He’d said. He insisted on that. Heaven is within
you. In the Kingdom where we are all gods.
Heaven is within you…
Shimon didn’t
understand most of His words. That last statement, about heaven, was the
hardest to understand. He doubted that his friend understood any better. Not
with their mind. But what did happen was a strange feeling that Yeshûa was
telling him what he already knew. What he’d always known, deep, in his heart.
As so often, when
Yeshûa spoke time seemed to stop. Perhaps He did transport them, if for but
fragments of eternity, to a different realty which He called his Kingdom.
The fire was dying
now. A spark flew, here and there, Yeshûa’s contour dissolved in the ripple of
the wavelets of Gennesareth. Gradually the water became lustrous, perfectly
still.
And then Shimon
heard a great wind rushing at him from above. Yet he didn’t wake up, though he
could swear that his eyes were wide open. He also felt Yeshûa’s presence. Just
as He’d promised.
(Chapter 4 to follow)
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