Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 16

Chapter 16We were twelve days into our journey, following Balthasars meticulously drawn map, when we came to the w all(prenominal).So, I verbalise, what do you think of the wall?Its gr tire, said ragua.Its non that gr annihilate, I said. in that location was a enormous tonal pattern waiting to get through the giant gate, where scores of bureaucrats collected taxes from caravan masters as they passed through. The gatehouses whole were each as big as 1 of Herods palaces, and s greyiers rode horses atop the wall, patrolling far into the distance. We were a good conference fend for from the gate and the suck up didnt witnessm to be moving.This is passing game to result all day, I said. wherefore would they build such a thing? If you can build a wall desire this hence you ought to be able to raise an army grown enough to defeat each invaders.Lao-tzu built this wall, Joshua said.The old master who wrote the Tao? I dont think so.What does the Tao value above all else?Comp assion? Those other two ornament things?No, in accomplish. Contemplation. Steadiness. Conservatism. A wall is the defense of a country that values inaction. however a wall imprisons the quite a teeny of a country as such(prenominal) as it protects them. Thats why Balthasar had us go this way. He cherished me to see the error in the Tao. One cant be free without action.So he spent all that time teaching us the Tao so we could see that it was wrong.No, not wrong. Not all of it. The compassion, humility, and moderation of the Tao, these ar the qualities of a righteous man, only if not inaction. These people are slaves to inaction.You worked as a stonecutter, Josh, I said, rollful toward the massive wall. You think this wall was built through inaction?The magus wasnt teaching us about action as in work, it was action as in change. Thats why we learned Confucius first alwaysything having to do with the revision of our fathers, the law, manners. Confucius is like the Torah, r ules to follow. And Lao-tzu is even more(prenominal)(prenominal) conservative, saying that if you do nothing you wont break any rules. You suck up to allow tradition fall approximatelytime, you run through to take action, you hold to eat bacon. Thats what Balthasar was trying to teach me.Ive said it forwards, Josh and you know how I love bacon but I dont think bacon is enough for the christ to bring.Change, Joshua said. A Messiah has to bring change. Change scrape ups through action. Balthasar once said to me, Theres no such thing as a conservative hero. He was wise, that old man.I thought about the old magus as I looked at the wall stretching all over the hills, then at the line of travelers ahead of us. A low urban center had grown up at the entrance to the wall to accommodate the needs of the de flummoxed travelers a gigantic the Silk roadway and it boi guide with merchants hawking food and drink along the line.Screw it, I said. This is press release to take forev er. How long can it be? permits go around.A month later, when we had returned to the same gate and we were standing in line to get through, Joshua asked So what do you think of the wall now? I mean, now that weve seen so much more of it?I think its ostentatious and unpleasant, I said.If they dont have a name for it, you should suggest that.And so it came to pass that through the ages the wall was known as the Ostentatious and Unpleasant Wall of China. At to the lowest degree I hope thats what happened. Its not on my Friendly Flyer Miles map, so I cant be certain(predicate).We could see the mountain where Gaspars monastery lay long before we reached it. give care the other peaks around it, it cut the deliver like a huge tooth. Below the mountain was a village surrounded by high pasture. We stop in that respect to rest and water our camels. The people of the village all came out to greet us and they marveled at our strange look and Joshuas curly hair as if we were gods that h ad been lowered out of the heavens (which I shooter was true in Joshs case, but you forget about that when youre around somewhatone a lot). An old edentulate woman who spoke a dialect of Chinese similar to the one we had learned from Joy convert us to leave the camels in the village. She traced the path up the mountain with a craggy finger and it was open-and-shut that the path was both too compact and too steep to accommodate the animals.The villagers served us a puritanic meat dish with frothy bowls of milk to wash it down. I hesitated and looked at Joshua. The Torah forbade us to eat meat and dairy at the same meal.Im thinking this is a lot like the bacon thing, Joshua said. I real dont feel that the Lord cares if we wash down our yak with a bowl of milk.Yak?Thats what this is. The old woman told me.Well, sin or not, Im not eating it. Ill just drink the milk.Its yak milk too.Im not alcohol addiction it.Use your own judgment, it served you so well in the past, like, oh, when you decided we should go around the wall.You know, I said, fag of having the whole wall thing brought up again, I never said you could use sarcasm whenever you cherished to. I think youre using my invention in ways that it was never intended to be used.Like against you?See? See what I mean?We left the village early the attached daybreak, carrying only some rice balls, our waterskins, and what little money we had left. We left our three camels in the care of the toothless old woman, who promised to take care of them until we returned. I would miss them. They were the spiffy double-humpers wed picked up in Kabul and they were comfor slacken to ride, but more important, none of them had ever essay to bite me.Theyre going to eat our camels, you know? We wont be gone an moment before one of them is turning on a spit.They wont eat the camels. Joshua, forever believing in the uprightness of human beings.They dont know what they are. They think that theyre just tall food. Theyre going to eat them. The only meat they ever get is yak.You dont even know what a yak is.Do too, I said, but the air was get thin and I was too tired to prove myself at the time.The sun was going down easy the mountains when we finally reached the monastery. Except for a huge wooden gate with a micro hatch in it, it was constructed blamelessly of the same black basalt as the mountain on which it stood. It looked more like a rampart than a place of worship.Makes you question if all three of your magi live in fortresses, doesnt it?Hit the buzzer, said Joshua. There was a bronze tam-tam hanging outside the door with a padded drumstick standing next to it and a sign in a language that we couldnt read.I hit the gong. We waited. I hit the gong again. And we waited. The sun went down and it began to get really cold on the mountainside. I rang the gong three propagation loud. We ate our rice balls and drank most of our water and waited. I pounded the bejezus out of the gong and th e hatch receptive. A pitch-black light from inside the gate illuminated the smooth cheeks of a Chinese man about our age. What? he said in Chinese.We are here to see Gaspar, I said. Balthasar sent us.Gaspar sees no one. Your aspect is smudge and your eyes are too round. He slammed the little hatch.This time Joshua pounded on the gong until the monastic returned.Let me see that drumstick, the monastic said, guardianship his hand out through the little port.Joshua gave him the drumstick and stepped back.Go off and come back in the aurora, the monk said.But weve traveled all day, Joshua said. Were cold and hungry.Life is suffering, the monk said. He slammed the little door, leaving us in almost total darkness.Maybe thats what youre supposed to learn, I said. Lets go home.No, we wait, said Joshua.In the morning, after Joshua and I had slept against the great gate, huddled together to conserve warmth, the monk opened the little hatch. You still here? He couldnt see us, as we were directly below the window.Yes, I said. buns we see Gaspar now?He craned his neck out the hatch, then pulled it back in and produced a tenuous wooden bowl, from which he poured water on our heads. Go away. Your feet are misshapen and your eyebrows grow together in a threatening way.ButHe slammed the hatch. And so we spent the day outside the gate, me wanting to go down the mountain, Joshua insisting that we wait. There was frost in our hair when we woke the next morning, and I felt my very bones aching. The monk opened the hatch just after first light.You are so gaumless that the village idiots guild uses you as a standard for testing, said the monk.Actually, Im a member of the village idiots guild, I retorted.In that case, said the monk, go away.I cursed eloquently in five languages and was beginning to tear at my hair in frustration when I levelted something large moving in the sky overhead. As it got closer, I saw that it was the angel, wearing his aspect of black robe and wi ngs. He carried a ardor bundle of sticks and pitch, which trailed a trail of flames and thick black smoke behind him in the sky. When he had passed over us several times, he flew off over the horizon, leaving a smoky pattern of Chinese characters that spelled out a message across the sky SURRENDER DOROTHY.I was just fuckin with you (as Balthasar used to say). Raziel didnt truly write SURRENDER DOROTHY in the sky. The angel and I watched The Wizard of Oz together on television support night and the scene at the gates of Oz reminded me of when Joshua and I were at the monastery gate. Raziel said he identified with Glinda, goodness Witch of the North. (I would have thought flying monkey, but I believe his choice was a sandy one.) I have to admit that I felt some sympathy for the scarecrow, although I dont believe I would have been singing about the lack of a brain. In fact, amid all the musical laments over not having a heart, a brain, or the nerve, did anyone notice that they didn t have a penis among them? I think it would have shown on the Lion and the Tin Man, and when the Scarecrow has his pants destuffed, you dont see a flying monkey moving ridge an errant straw Johnson around anywhere, do you? I think I know what song Id be singingOh, I would while away the hours,Wanking in the flowers, my heart all full of song,Id be decorate all the lilies as I waved about my willieIf I only had a schlong.And suddenly it occurred to me, as I composed the above opus, that although Raziel had always seemed to have the aspect of a male, I had no idea if there were even genders among the angels. After all, Raziel was the only one Id ever seen. I leapt from my chair and confronted him in the midst of an afternoon Looney Tunes festival.Raziel, do you have equipment?Equipment?A package, a taliwacker, a unit, a dick do you have one?No, said the angel, perplexed that I would be asking. Why would I need one?For finish. Dont angels have sex?Well, yes, but we dont use those. So there are female angels and male angels?Yes.And you have sex with female angels.Correct.With what do you have sex?Female angels. I just told you.No, do you have a sex organ?Yes.Show me?I dont have it with me.Oh. I realized that there are some things Id really rather not know about.Anyway, he didnt write in the sky, and, in fact, we didnt see Raziel again, but the monks did let us into the monastery after three days. They said that they do everybody wait three days. It weeded out the insincere.The entire two-story structure that was the monastery was fashioned of rough stone, none larger than could have been lifted into place by a single man. The rear of the building was built right into the mountainside. The structure seemed to have been built under an existent overhang in the rock, so there was minimal roofing exposed to the elements. What did show was made of terra-cotta tiles that lay on a steep incline, obviously to shed any buildup of snow.A short and hairless monk wearing a saffron-colored robe led us across an outer courtyard paved with flag through an austere doorway into the monastery. The report inside was stone, and though immaculately clean, it was no more complete than the flagstone of the courtyard. There were only a a couple of(prenominal) windows, more like arrow slits, cut high in the wall, and little light penetrated the interior once the front door was closed. The air was thick with odorize and filled with a buzzing chorus of male voices producing a rhythmic chant that seemed to come from over and nowhere at once and made it seem as if my ribs and kneecaps were vibrating from the inside. Whatever language they were chanting in I didnt understand, but the message was clear these men were invoking something that transcended this world.The monk led us up a narrow stairway into a long, narrow corridor lined with open doorways no higher than my waist. As we passed I could see that these must be the monks cells, and each was just large enough to accommodate a weensy man lying down. There was a woven mat on the floor and a wool blanket rolled up at the top of each cell, but there was no certainty of personal possessions nor storage for any. There were no doors to close for privacy. In short, it was very much like what I had grown up with, which didnt make me feel any better about it. Nearly five geezerhood of the relative opulence at Balthasars fortress had spoiled me. I yearned for a soft bed and a half-dozen Chinese concubines to hand-feed me and rub my body with fragrant oils. (Well, I said I was spoiled.)At last the monk led us into a large open chamber with a high stone crown and I realized that we were no longer in a man-made structure, but a large countermine. At the far end of the cave was a stone statue of a man seated cross-legged, his eyes closed, his hands before him with the first fingers and thumbs forming closed circles. Lit by the orangeness light of candles, a fogginess of incense smoke han ging about his shaved head, he appeared to be praying. The monk, our guide, disappeared into the darkness at the sides of the cave and Joshua and I approached the statue cautiously, stepping carefully across the rough floor of the cave.(We had long since lost our surprise and outrage at graven images. The world at large and the art we had seen in our travels served to dampen even that grave commandment. Bacon, Joshua said when I asked him about it.)This great room was the source of the chanting we had been hearing since entering the monastery, and after comprehend the monks cells we determined that there must be at least twenty monks adding their voices to the droning, although the way the cave echoed it mogul have been one or a thousand. As we approached the statue, trying to ascertain what sort of stone it was made from, it opened its eyes.Is that you, Joshua? it said in perfect Aramaic.Yes, said Joshua.And who is this?This is my friend, Biff.Now he will be called pirate flag, when he needs to be called, and you shall be Twenty-two. While you are here you have no name. The statue wasnt a statue, of course, it was Gaspar. The orange light of the candles and his complete lack of motion or human face had only made him appear to be made of stone. I suppose we were overly thrown off because we were expecting a Chinese. This man looked as if he was from India. His skin was even darker than ours and he wore the red dot on his head that we had seen on Indian traders in Kabul and Antioch. It was difficult to tell his age, as he had no hair or beard and there wasnt a line in his face.Hes the Messiah, I said. The Son of God. You came to see him at his birth.Still no expression from Gaspar. He said, The Messiah must die if you are to learn. Kill him tomorrow.Scuse me? I said.Tomorrow you will learn. impart them, said Gaspar.Another monk, who looked almost identical to the first monk, came out of the dark and took Joshua by the shoulder. He led us out of the chapel chamber and back to the cells where he showed Joshua and me our accommodations. He took our satchels away from us and left. He returned in a few minutes with a bowl of rice and a cup of gutless tea for each of us. Then he went away, having said nothing since letting us in.Chatty little guy, I said.Joshua scooped some rice into his mouth and grimaced. It was cold and unsalted. Should I be worried about what he said about the Messiah dying tomorrow, do you think?You know how youve never been completely sure whether you were the Messiah or not?Yeah.Tomorrow, if they dont kill you first thing in the morning, tell them that.The next morning turn of events septet Monk awakened Joshua and me by whacking us in the feet with a bamboo staff. To his credit, Number Seven was smiling when I finally got the sleep cleared from my eyes, but that was really a small consolation. Number Seven was short and thin with high cheekbones and widely set eyes. He wore a long orange robe woven from rough c otton and no shoes. He was clean-shaven and his head was also shaved except for a small tail that grew out at the crown and was tied with a string. He looked as if he could be anywhere from seventeen to thirty-five years old, it was impossible to tell. (Should you wonder about the appearance of Monks Two through Six, and Eight through Twenty, just imagine Number Seven Monk nineteen times. Or at least thats how they appeared to me for the first few months. Later, Im sure, except that we were taller and round-eyed, Joshua and I, or Monks Twenty-one and Twenty-two, would have fit the same description. When one is trying to shed the bonds of ego, a unique appearance is a liability. Thats why they call it a uniform. But alas, Im getting ahead of myself.)Number Seven led us to a window that was obviously used as a latrine, waited while we used it, then took us to a small room where Gaspar sat, his legs crossed in a seemingly impossible position, with a small table before him. The monk bo wlegged and left the room and Gaspar asked us to sit down, again in our native Aramaic.We sat across from him on the floor no, thats not right, we didnt actually sit, we lay on the floor on our sides, propped up on one elbow the way we would have been at the low tables at home. We sat after Gaspar produced a bamboo staff from under the table and, with a motion as firm as a striking cobras, whacked us both on the side of the head with it. I said sit he said.Then we sat.Jeez, I said, rubbing the knot that was swelling over my ear.Listen, Gaspar said, holding the stick up to clarify exactly what he meant.We listened as if they were going to discontinue sound any second and we needed to stock up. I think I even stopped breathing for a while.Good, said Gaspar, laying the stick down and pouring tea into three simple bowls on the table.We looked at the tea sitting there, steaming just looked at it. Gaspar laughed like a little boy, all the graveness and authority from a second ago gone from his face. He could have been a kindly older uncle. In fact, except for the obviously Indian features, he reminded me a lot of Joseph, Joshuas stepfather.No Messiah, Gaspar said, shifting to Chinese now. Do you understand?Yes, Joshua and I said in unison.In an instant the bamboo stick was in his hand and the other end was bouncing off of Joshuas head. I covered my own head with my blazon but the blow never came.Did I strike the Messiah? Gaspar asked Joshua.Joshua seemed genuinely perplexed. He paused, rubbing the spot on his head, when another blow caught him over his other ear, the sound of the impact sharp and harsh in the small stone room.Did I strike the Messiah? Gaspar repeated.Joshuas dark brown eyes showed neither trouble oneself nor fear, just confusion as deep as the confusion of a calf who has just had its pharynx cut by the Temple priest.The stick whistled through the air again, but this time I caught it in mid-swing, wrenched it out of Gaspars hand, and tossed it out the narrow window behind him. I quickly folded my hands and looked at the table in front of me. Begging your pardon, master, I said, but if you hit him again, Ill kill you.Gaspar stood, but I was panicky to look at him (or Joshua, for that matter). Ego, said the monk. He left the room without another word.Joshua and I sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking and rubbing our goose eggs. Well, it had been an interesting trip and all, but Joshua wasnt very well going to learn much about being the Messiah from someone who hit him with a stick whenever it was mentioned, and that, I supposed, was the reason we were there. So, onward. I drank the bowl of tea in front of me, then the one that Gaspar had left. Two wise men down, one to go, I said. Wed better find some breakfast if were going to travel.Joshua looked at me as perplexed as he had at Gaspar a few minutes before. Do you think he needs that stick?Number Seven Monk handed us our satchels, bowed deeply, then went back into t he monastery and closed the door, leaving Joshua and me standing there by the gong. It was a clear morning and we could see the smoke of cook fires rising from the village below.We should have asked for some breakfast, I said. This is going to be a long climb down.Im not leaving, Josh said.Youre kidding.I have a lot more to learn here.Like how to take a beating?Maybe.Im not sure Gaspar will let me back in. He didnt seem too pleased with me.You threatened to kill him.I did not, I warned that Id kill him. huge difference.So youre not going to stay?And there it was, the question. Was I going to stay with my best friend, eat cold rice, sleep on a cold floor, take abuse from a mad monk, and very likely have my skull split open, or was I going to go? Go where? Home? natural covering to Kabul and Joy? Despite the long journey, it seemed easier to go back the way I had come. At least some level of familiarity would be waiting there. But if I was making easy choices, why was I there in the first place?Are you sure you have to stay here, Josh? Cant we go find Melchior?I know I have things to learn here. Joshua picked up the drumstick and rang the gong. In a few minutes the little port opened in the door and a monk we had never seen before stuck his face in the opening. Go away. Your nature is dense and your breath smells like a yaks ass. He slammed the hatch.Joshua rang the gong again.I dont like that whole thing about killing the Messiah. I cant stay here, Joshua. Not if hes going to hit you.I have a feeling Im going to get hit quite a few more times until I learn what he needs me to know.I have to go.Yes, you do.But I could stay.No. Trust me, you have to leave me now, so you wont later. Ill see you again. He turned away from me and faced the door.Oh, you dont know anything else, but you know that all of a sudden?Yes. Go, Biff. Good-bye.I walked down the narrow path and nearly stumbled over a precipice when I heard the hatch in the door open. Where are you going? sho uted the monk.Home, I said.Good, go frighten some children with your glorious ignorance.I will. I tried to keep my shoulders steady as I walked away, but it felt like someone was ripping my person through the muscles of my back. I would not turn around, I vowed, and slowly, painfully, I made my way down the path, convinced(p) that I would never see Joshua again.