Bones of the Night

PRELIMINARY EPISTLE I don’t exactly remember when we started to suspect that something was going to happen, that is to say, the critical moment when no finger was actually pointing to anyone in particular. Sorrow had penetrated our feelings of joy by quietly assuming a place, but we had actually noticed it for some time. Anguish could be seen in our eyes; it was camouflaged by the dusty glitter of the paths we walked on. It also invaded our souls and settled in our hearts like an intrusive visitor. At certain times, the feeling of premonition felt like a talon tearing away at us. Other times, its burden was so unbearable that it slowed down the beating of our hearts. In a certain kind of way, our waiting to see what would happen had turned into a familiar habit that went on for almost three years, ever since the Master had announced his prediction for the first time along the tinkling waters of the Sea of Galilee. This interior sea (or lake) of Genesareth had always been, for all twelve of us, the spot where a handful of sower’s seeds had fallen onto fertile ground. The lake’s northern shore had the privilege of witnessing the first shoots rise up from that germination. The waters of Lake Genesareth washed up onto the area known as Bethsaida, which was the village where Simon Peter, Andrew, and Philip were born. And there was Capernaum (where I was born), which was also the birthplace of James the Elder and John. Capernaum was Jesus’ beloved city; he lived there after he left Nazareth for good. He performed miracles in that region. When he was only 12 years old, he dazzled the priests in the Temple of Jerusalem; but once he reached 30, he upset, for the first time, the Pharisees in Capernaum, who dominated the city assembly. At a spot called Tabgha, along the shore, which was thirteen furlongs east of Capernaum, the Savior fed 4,000 men with just seven fish and a few loaves of bread, without even counting the women and children who were with them. Magdala was the city on the western shore of the lake where a pious woman named Mary gave shelter to the Lord Jesus Christ when its Pharisees hounded him, asking for a sign from Heaven. That Magdalene woman was so enthralled by the teachings of Jesus that, from that time forward, she followed him as if she were just another one of his disciples. The Savior, much to the astonishment of everyone who was standing along the Sea of Galilee’s shore, walked on top of its water one night, while there was a surge of waves. That first revelation to which I refer took place without leaving too much of a mark when we then found ourselves overwhelmed by the irresistible influence of the man who uttered prophesies that were based on a new kind of enlightenment. In any case, our basic anxiety co-existed with the good fortune we enjoyed because we were able to tread along Jesus’ path. All one had to do was gaze into his eyes to believe what he said and to accept the Kingdom of God he preached about. At first, there were two souls that Jesus called on to help him with his task; they were designated by Christian names. He then added two others, then one more, and then another. Within a short time there were many, until one day Jesus withdrew to the mount and prayed all night long. When morning broke, he summoned everyone (which amounted to a large number by then) and chose twelve to carry out a mission; they would be the ones who would always accompany him. I was one among those twelve. We truly learned to walk in the Lord’s light. Because of that we were able to carry out the task that was required of us. Before leaving on our mission, Jesus conferred us with authority so we would have dominion over depraved spirits, for the purpose of casting them out, and so we would be able to cure every disease and ailment. Without that, we would have roamed disarmed along the paths of Israel. But we achieved his goal without breaking a single bone. Throughout all of Israel, where the Lord Jesus sent us, we cured lepers and the sick; we also brought the dead back to life and cast out demons. There were some setbacks and other problems, but the whip and ridicule passed by the wayside, without causing any damage, because the Kingdom of Heaven had drawn close to us. Jails were dumbfounded when they opened their doors to us. We had an antidote, an impregnable kind of armor, a shield called faith that opened the way for us when we were confronted with anything, and which made us aware of the glory of Heaven and hope on Earth. This preamble is more concerned with the spirit than the flesh. The spirit is the breath of air that gives volume to existence, although it is the body that contains it. My mission consists, at this juncture, of making the sharp contrast between good fortune and misfortune stand out. The five days that speak through my pen bear witness to the ill portent that pointed to an ending. Grief, of course, is stronger than memory, but it’s also true that this ending is a culminating point, an awakening, a pinnacle so much higher than any splendor we are ever fortunate enough to experience. The five days to which I refer transpired between Sunday, the 10th day of Nisan and Thursday, the 14th day of Nisan, which announces the beginning of Passover, since that is when the first full moon of the year makes its appearance. Nisan refers to the first month of the Jewish New Year; it is the one during which meadows turn green, once again, and when barley and flax are harvested. It is the month when the first warm winds, which one has been waiting a long time for, bring Nature back to life. But I should point out that what occurred during those five days reached its climax during the supposed period of a night, the last one (that started Friday the 15th), when God’s thundering shout shook the four corners of Heaven and Earth.