The more he approached the people and perceived their anger-filled eyes and the dark, tortured fierceness of their expressions, the more his heart stirred, the more his bowels flooded with deep sympathy and love. These are the people, he reflected. They are all brothers, every one of them, but they do not know it Magdalene and that is why they suffer. If they knew it, what celebrations there would be, what hugging and kissing, what happiness!

He arrived finally and stepped up onto a rock, stretching out his arms to the left and right. One word, one joyful and triumphant word, spurted forth from deep within his bowels: “Brothers!”

The astonished people looked at each other. No one replied.

“Brothers-” the triumphant cry resounded again-“brothers, I am delighted to see you.”

“Well we’re not delighted to see you, cross-maker!” Barabbas answered him, picking up a heavy stone from the ground.

“My boy!” someone shouted in a heart-rending voice, and Mary rushed out and embraced her son. She laughed, wept, caressed him; but he, without speaking, untwisted his mother’s arms from about him and advanced toward Barabbas.

“Barabbas, my brother,” he said, “I’m glad to see you. I am a friend; I bring a message of great joy.”

“Don’t come any closer,” roared Barabbas, and he placed himself in front of Magdalene in order to hide her from the other’s eyes. But she heard the beloved voice and jumped to her feet.

“Jesus,” she screamed, “help!”

A single stride brought Jesus to the pit’s brim. Magdalene had begun to climb up, gripping the rocks with her fingers and toes. Jesus stooped and held out his hand. She grasped it and he pulled her out. She collapsed onto the ground, puffing, and covered with blood.

Barabbas rushed over and stamped his foot down on her back. “She’s mine!” he bellowed, raising the stone which he held in his hand. “I’ll kill her-she polluted the Sabbath. Death!”

“Death! Death!” the people howled in their turn, afraid now that their sacrifice would escape.

“Death!” Zebedee cried out too as he saw the ragamuffins circle the newcomer, doubtlessly filling their heads with fancy ideas. Woe is us if paupers are allowed to do whatever they please. “Death!” he shouted again, banging his club on the ground. “Death!”

Jesus restrained Barabbas’s lifted arm. “Barabbas,” he said, his voice tranquil and sad, “have you never disobeyed one of God’s commandments? In your whole life have you never stolen, murdered, committed adultery or told a lie?”

He turned to the howling multitude and looked at each person, one by one, slowly. “Let him among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone!”

The mass stirred; one by one the people stepped back, struggling to escape this clawing look which was excavating their memories and vital organs. The men recalled all the lies they had uttered during their lifetimes, the acts of injustice they had committed, the wives of others they had bedded; the women lowered their kerchiefs, and the stones they held in their hands slid to the ground.

When old Zebedee saw the rabble about to emerge victorious, he flew into a rage. Once more Jesus turned to the people and stared at them one by one, stared into the very depths of their eyes. “Let him among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.

“Me,” snapped Zebedee. “Barabbas, give me your stone. Innocence has no fears: I’ll throw it.”

Barabbas was delighted. He gave him the stone and stepped to one side. Zebedee stood over Magdalene, holding the stone in his fist and judging its weight, in order to hit her squarely on the head. She had rolled herself up into a ball at Jesus’ feet and was tranquil, for she felt that here she had no fear of death.

The infuriated ragamuffins looked at old Zebedee, and one of them, the gauntest of the lot, jumped forward.

“Hey, Zebedee,” he shouted, “there’s a God, you know. Your hand will be paralyzed-aren’t you afraid? Think back: you never gobbled up the rights of the poor? You never in your life caused an orphan’s vineyard to be sold at auction? You never stepped into a widow’s house at night?”

As he listened, the old sinner felt the weight of the stone in his hand and restrained himself more and more. Suddenly he uttered a cry, his arm wilted abruptly and fell useless at his side. The large stone rolled out of his grasp and landed on his foot, breaking his toes.

The ragamuffins shouted for joy. “Miracle! Miracle! Magdalene is innocent!”

Barabbas went wild; his pock-marked face puffed up fiery red. Darting at the son of Mary, he lifted his hand and slapped him. But Jesus calmly turned the other cheek.

“Hit the other one too, Barabbas, my brother,” he said.

Barabbas’s hand grew numb, and his eyes popped out of his head. Who was this person? What was he-a ghost, a man or a devil? Dumfounded, he stepped back and gazed at Jesus.

“Hit the other cheek, Barabbas, my brother,” the son of Mary incited him once more.

At this point Judas emerged from the shade of the fig tree where he had been standing off to one side, watching. He had seen everything but had not spoken. Whether Magdalene was killed or not made no difference to him, but he was pleased to hear Barabbas and the ragamuffins stand up against Zebedee and declaim his sins. When he saw Jesus appear at the lake shore dressed in his new white robe, his heart had pounded. “Now it will become clear who he is, what he wants and what message he has for men,” he had murmured, cocking his huge ear. But the very start, the very first word-“Brothers”-displeased him, and his expression soured. “He still hasn’t put any sense into his head,” he grumbled. “No, we’re not all brothers. Israelites and Romans are not brothers, nor are Israelites among themselves. The Sadducees who sell themselves to Rome, the village chiefs-as many as cover up for the tyrant-they are not our brothers. No, you’ve got off to a bad start, son of the Carpenter. Look out!” But when he saw Jesus offer the other cheek, without anger and with a superb inhuman sweetness, he became frightened. What is this man? he shouted to himself. This… this offering of the other cheek: only an angel could do that, only an angel-or a dog.

He reached Barabbas now with one bound and seized him by the arm just as he was about to rush upon the son of Mary.

“Don’t touch him,” he said in a muffled voice. “Go home!”

Barabbas looked at Judas with astonishment. They were both in the same brotherhood; side by side they had often entered villages and cities and killed Israel ’s traitors. And now…

“You, Judas,” he murmured, “you?”

“Yes, me. Go!”

Barabbas continued to hold his ground. Judas was his superior in the brotherhood and he could not oppose him; but his self-respect, on the other hand, did not let him budge.

“Go!” the redbeard commanded once more.

The bandit chief lowered his head and threw a savage glance at the son of Mary. “You won’t get away from me,” he murmured, clenching his fist. “We shall meet again!”

Turning to his followers, he commanded them halfheartedly: “Let’s go.”