Without realizing it, he had begun to shout. His mind was wild with fury. Forgetting that his knees were unable to support him, he tried to rise, to set out on God’s trail, but he collapsed supine onto the ground, out of breath. “I am unable; don’t you see me?” he cried, lifting his eyes toward the burning heavens. “I am unable; why do you choose me? I cannot endure!” And as he cried out, he saw a black mass on the sand before him: the goat, disemboweled, its legs in the air. He remembered how he had leaned over and seen his own face in the leaden eyes. “I am the goat,” he murmured. “God placed him along my path to show me who I am and where I am heading…” Suddenly he began to weep. “I don’t want… I don’t want…” he murmured, “I don’t want to be alone. Help me!”

And then, while he was bowed over and weeping, a pleasant breeze blew, the stench of the tar and the carcass disappeared and a sweet perfume pervaded the world. The eremite heard water, bracelets and laughter jingling in the distance and approaching. His eyelids, armpits and throat felt refreshed. He lifted his eyes. On a stone in front of him a snake with the eyes and breasts of a woman was licking its lips and regarding him. The eremite stepped back, terrified. Was this a snake, a woman, or a cunning demon of the desert? Such a serpent had wrapped itself around the forbidden tree of Paradise and seduced the first man and woman to unite and give birth to sin… He heard laughter and the sweet, wheedling voice of a woman: “I felt sorry for you, son of Mary. You cried, ‘I don’t want to be alone. Help me!’ I pitied you and came. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t want you. I didn’t call you. Who are you?”

“Your soul.”

“My soul!” Jesus exclaimed, and he closed his eyes, horrified.

“Yes, your soul. You are afraid of being alone. Your great-grandfather Adam had the same fear. He too shouted for help. His flesh and soul united, and woman emerged from his rib to keep him company.”

“I don’t want you, don’t want you! I remember the apple you fed to Adam. I remember the angel with the scimitar!”

“You remember, and that’s why you’re in pain and you cry out and cannot find your way. I shall show it to you. Give me your hand. Don’t look back; don’t recall anything. See how my breasts take the lead. Follow them, my spouse. They know the way perfectly.”

“You are going to lead me also to sweet sin and the Inferno. I’m not coming. Mine is another road.”

The serpent giggled derisively and showed her sharp, poisonous teeth. “Do you wish to follow God’s tracks, the tracks of the eagle-you worm! You, son of the Carpenter, wish to bear the sins of an entire race! Aren’t your own sins enough for you? What impudence to think that it’s your duty to save the world!”

She’s right… she’s right… the eremite thought, trembling. What impudence to wish to save the world!

“I have a secret to tell you, dear son of Mary,” said the snake in a sweet voice, her eyes sparkling. She slid down from the rock like water and began, richly decorated, to roll toward him. She arrived at his feet, climbed onto his knees, curled herself up and with a spring reached his thighs, loins, breast and finally leaned against his shoulder. The eremite, despite himself, inclined his head to hear her. The snake licked Jesus’ ear with her tongue. Her voice was seductive and far away: it seemed to be coming from Galilee, from the edge of Lake Gennesaret.

“It’s Magdalene… it’s Magdalene… it’s Magdalene…”

“What?” said Jesus, shuddering. “What about Magdalene?”

“… it’s Magdalene you must save!” the snake hissed imperatively. “Not the Earth-forget about the Earth. It’s her, Magdalene, you must save!”

Jesus tried to shake the serpent away from his head, but she thrust herself forward and vibrated her tongue in his ear. “Her body is beautiful, cool and accomplished. All nations have passed over her, but it has been written in God’s hand since your childhood that she is for you. Take her! God created man and woman to match, like the key and the lock. Open her. Your children sit huddled together and numb inside her, waiting for you to blow away their numbness so that they may rise and come out to walk in the sun… Do you hear what I’m telling you? Lift your eyes, give me some sign. Just nod your head, my darling, and this very hour I shall bring you, on a fresh bed-your wife.”

“My wife?”

“Your wife. Look how God married the whore Jerusalem. The nations passed over her, but he married her to save her. Look how the prophet Hosea married the whore Gomer, daughter of Debelaim. In the same way, God commands you to sleep with Mary Magdalene, your wife, to have children, and save her.”

The serpent had now pressed its hard, cool, round breast against Jesus’ own and was sliding slowly, tortuously, wrapping itself around him. Jesus grew pale, closed his eyes, saw Magdalene’s firm, high-rumped body wriggling along the shores of Lake Gennesaret, saw her gaze toward the river Jordan and sigh. She extended her hand-she was seeking him; and her bosom was filled with children: his own. He had only to twitch the corner of his eye, to give a sign, and all at once: what happiness! How his life would change, sweeten, become more human! This was the way, this! He would return to Nazareth, to his mother’s house, would become reconciled with his brothers. It was nothing but youthful folly-madness-to want to save the world and die for mankind. But thanks to Magdalene, God bless her, he would be cured; he would return to his workshop, take up once more his old beloved craft, once more make plows, cradles and troughs; he would have children and become a human being, the master of a household. The peasants would respect him and stand up when he passed. He would work the whole week long and on Saturday go to the synagogue in the clean garments woven for him of linen and silk by his wife Magdalene, with his expensive kerchief over his head, his golden wedding ring on his finger; and he would have his stall with the elders, would sit and listen peacefully and indifferently while the seething, half-insane Scribes and Pharisees sweated and shivered to interpret the Holy Scriptures. He would snigger and look at them with sympathy. Where would they ever end up, these theologians! He was interpreting Holy Scripture quietly and surely by taking a wife, having children, by constructing plows, cradles, and troughs…

He opened his eyes and saw the desert. Where had the day gone! The sun was once more inclining toward the horizon. The serpent, her breast glued to his own, was waiting. She hissed tranquilly, seductively, and a tender, plaintive lullaby flowed into the evening air. The entire desert rocked and lullabied like a mother.

“I’m waiting… I’m waiting…” the snake hissed salaciously. “Night has overtaken us. I’m cold. Decide. Nod to me, and the doors of Paradise will be opened to you. Decide, my darling. Magdalene is waiting…”

The eremite felt paralyzed with fear. As he was about to open his mouth to say Yes, he felt someone above looking down on him. Terrified, he lifted his head and saw two eyes in the air, two eyes only, as black as night, and two white eyebrows which were moving and signaling to him: No! No! No! Jesus’ heart contracted. He looked up again beseechingly, as if he wished to scream: Leave me alone, give me permission, do not be angry! But the eyes had grown ferocious and the eyebrows vibrated threateningly.

“No! No! No!” Jesus then shouted, and two large tears rolled from his eyes.

All at once the serpent writhed, unglued herself from him and with a muffled roar exploded. The air was glutted with the stench.

Jesus fell on his face. His mouth, nostrils and eyes filled with sand. His mind was blank. Forgetting his hunger and thirst, he wept-wept as though his wife and all his children had died, as though his whole life had been ruined.