The Carpenter sat dozing with his back to the wall of a small shallow cave. He was startled awake by the screech of a hawk passing over the barren little valley he was resting in. He had been praying and had fallen asleep, again. He laughed at himself and looked around at his temporary domicile. Calling it a “cave” was generous; it was more of a dent in the side of the short cliff face, as if some giant hammer had struck a blow long ago, but it was dry and it was shaded and free of scorpions. He had discovered many such “caves” in his wandering through the wilderness and would always stay for a day or two until moving on to the next one. How long had it been? How many weeks? He had lost count and supposed it didn’t really matter, this was a test, and the test would take as long as it took. In all those long weeks he had eaten nothing; but other than fasting, it was not clear to him what he should be doing, so he kept moving, always in search of the next trickle of water he could find in some hidden valley or running down a cliff face where he could fill his small water skin.
He had sung every hymn that he knew and had even come up with some new ones. He had prayed every prayer that he had learned while growing up, “blessed are You O Lord our God King of the universe…” day after day but he felt as if God was far away and took no notice of him or his prayers. The Carpenter knew that was nonsense, but he felt so alone. He was weak from hunger, which is why he would fall asleep praying so often; this frustrated him because he had been sleeping so often during the day that he would be awake most of the night and the darkness only increased his sense of forsakenness. The jackals came out at night also; they did not really threaten him, it was more like harassment, with their barking and yapping and snuffling about in the dark all around him.
He stood and stretched, yawning while he rubbed his eyes. He stepped out and was confronted by a large mountain goat; it was white with brown patches and big horns, it turned to look at him with big placid eyes. The goat considered the Carpenter with an expression that seemed to be saying “what are you doing in my world?” then it bounded away on the rocks with an energy and ease that made the man envious and caused him to smile. He left his hole and picked his way over the rocks with much more caution than the ram had; he was not a mountain goat and if he broke an ankle in the middle of this wilderness it would be the end of him.
When he made it to the bottom of his small valley he began walking up the dry creek bed in what he assumed was a westerly direction. He had been walking for several hours when he emerged from the valley onto a wide space where the desert began to give way to rolling thin grassland. He saw patches of trees to the north. He stood still and pondered, it took a while for his eyes to adjust to the different colored landscape, he had been staring at browns and tans so long, he had forgotten what green was. He spied in the distance what looked like the top of a large tree poking up from behind one of the many small hills. He looked at the sky, the sun was high and the heat was oppressive. There would be shade and a breeze under that tree, maybe even some water. He started north, as he entered the grassy plain, a fox darted in front of him and down a hole; “even the foxes have their holes”, he thought as he considered his own homelessness. The tree turned out to be farther than he thought, perspectives always being off in the wilderness; he was tired and hot as he climbed the last hill and was looking forward to laying down in the shade. He reached the top, looked down at his tree and was dismayed, for there under the tree, sitting in the shade, his shade, was the dragon, waiting for him.
The Carpenter shook his head and sighed. He muttered under his breath “why must the only company available to me be this wretched creature?” he strode down the hill toward his tree. The dragon rose and smiled at his approach.
“You look tired”, said the dragon, “and hungry, you have lost so much weight, soon there will be nothing left of you.”
The Carpenter felt his own ribs, “perhaps”, he responded, “but it seems to me that soon there will be nothing left of you.” The dragon waved the words away as if they meant nothing, but he had stopped smiling and stepped aside as the Carpenter entered the shade of the tree and flung himself on the ground exhausted. He put his bundled-up cloak behind his head and laid on his back looking up at the leaves of the large spreading sycamore. The dragon walked over to the tree, sat down with his back to it and stared at the Carpenter. The Carpenter ignored him.
“So”, said the dragon loudly. The Carpenter jumped; he had fallen asleep in that pleasant shade and the dragon had startled him awake. It was one of his many tedious tricks, no rest for the weary and all that, they had been having various forms of the same conversation for weeks now. “So, what?” said the Carpenter, laying back down looking up at the tree.
“You are His son and He loves you, isn’t that so?” said the dragon.
“Those were the last words that I heard until you started bothering me.” Said the Carpenter, still staring up at the tree branches.
The dragon leaned forward looking earnestly at him and said, “maybe you did not hear them right.”
“I heard them right”, responded the Carpenter.
“How can you be sure? It has been so long after all”, the dragon said smoothly.
“I heard them right”, was the only response.
“Either you heard them wrong or the words are not true”, the dragon said dismissively, “because this makes no sense.”
“What makes no sense?” asked the Carpenter.
“Why should the son of the Almighty be so hungry?” asked the dragon.
“Why should he not?” asked the Carpenter.
“Either He loves you, or he lets you go hungry, both cannot be true” the dragon said flatly.
“Why?” asked the Carpenter. The dragon blinked, he had no response to this, he sat back and considered a different approach.
“You could feed yourself”, said the dragon, “what is the point of this hunger and weakness?”
“I did not come to feed myself”, said the Carpenter.
The dragon leaned back against the tree and let his demeaner soften, “I see what the problem is now”, he said.
“Oh?”, said the Carpenter.
“I care too much”, said the dragon. “I would never let you go hungry.”
The Carpenter had not moved at all but still lay on his back looking up into the leaves of the tree, “if you cared so much”, he said, “you would have brought me food instead of words.”
“Ha!” the dragon snorted, “your Father, who you say loves you, left you in this wilderness with no food, only words, how is He any better?”
“His words are food”, replied the Carpenter, “yours are only lies.”
“Love is not hunger”, said the dragon.
“It is, if it leaves you hungering for the right thing”, answered the Carpenter.
“You are a fool”, stated the dragon.
The Carpenter raised himself up on one elbow and looked at his adversary. The beast had taken many forms over the past few weeks; sometimes he would appear as an actual dragon, a large winged lizard sitting on its haunches in conversation with him. The experience of words coming out of the long reptile snout was grotesque. Sometimes he would be an angel, dazzling, brilliant and blinding, the very glory of him demanded attention. Lately he liked to appear as a man; the last time it was as a religious sage, with tassels and a turban and phylacteries. Like the ones he remembered from Jerusalem when he was a boy. The dragon would lecture him on theology and the nature of God; it was always very authoritative and condescending, also very empty and wrong. This time he was a Roman soldier, complete with breastplate and sword, even a short red cloak. He had a neatly trimmed beard and olive skin with deep piercing eyes. The eyes were the only thing that ever remained consistent with every apparition; deep, ancient, intelligent eyes that had seen unimaginable glories, and were the windows to a staggering intellect. The Carpenter marveled at this beast, how could someone be so intelligent and so dead all at once?
“So why would someone as exalted as you waste time on such a fool?” asked the Carpenter.
“Because I would spare you”, answered the Dragon.
“From what?” asked the Carpenter.
“From whatever schemes He has devised for you, from whatever fools’ errand He has sent you on, from believing what is not true, from trusting some distant “Father” who does not want what is best for you”, the Dragon answered. He spoke with authority and certainty, with a tone that demanded to be believed.
“Am I to believe that God is not good based solely on your word?” the Carpenter countered.
The Dragon threw back his head and laughed a mirthless laugh; it was awkward and unnatural, this creature knew nothing of joy anymore, he could not even fake it. “Look around you”, he said after his empty laughter had trailed off and he leveled his penetrating gaze on the tired brown eyes of the Carpenter.
“If He is good why do you suffer so, why are you so burnt by the sun, why so hungry?” The Dragon leaned forward and managed to conjure a look of sympathy as he said, “I would never treat you this way, I can be trusted, those are the facts.”
“But you are not God”, the Carpenter replied simply. “God cannot lie.”
The Dragon snorted dismissively and stood, “come”, he said, “I have something to show you”, then he strode to the edge of the shade walking north. The Carpenter sighed, then stood and steadied himself against the tree. He did not want to leave his shade, but he must play this game. The creature had no new tricks but he always seemed to up the intensity of his pressure and his game, the Carpenter was so tired of it all. But the game must be played, he took a small drink from his water skin, wiped his mouth and nodded at the Dragon. The beast walked out into the sun and the man followed. It could walk for miles and never tire, never sweat or need a drink, but the Carpenter would often have to rest and find shade, under a tree or behind one of the many large rocks that jutted up from the landscape.
They walked well into the afternoon; the dragon always steering north and a little west, he clearly had a destination in mind but the Carpenter could not guess what it was, he only knew that it would be unpleasant. He pushed the thought aside and began to sing a hymn, softly. It was one of the Psalms that he loved most, all about going up to Jerusalem with a caravan of hundreds to celebrate God. His mind flooded with happy memories of singing and dancing and food and family and friends, his heart lifted.
The dragon dropped back to walk beside him and ruined his reverie. “You do not trust me?” the dragon queried.
“You know that I don’t”, replied the Carpenter.
“And yet you do not trust your Father either”, the dragon said, matter-of-factly.
“You know that I do” the Carpenter responded.
“But the other day when we were at the high place and I bid you jump, you refused because you did not trust Him to save you”, said the dragon.
They were walking over an open grass covered plain now that was mostly level; the sun had dropped much lower but darkness was still several hours away. In the distance was a low tree covered hill, which seemed to be their destination.
“We have been over all of that”, said the Carpenter. “Do we really have to do this again?”
“Come”, said the dragon, “let us reason together.” The Carpenter rolled his eyes and the dragon grinned.
“Why not jump?” asked the dragon.
“Because you wish it”, replied the Carpenter.
“He has promised blessing and protection in His word”, said the dragon, “no harm will come to you, so why not jump?”
“He has also promised that those who jump hundreds of feet to the pavement will die”, replied the Carpenter.
“Where has He made such a promise?” asked the dragon.
“In the very way He has made things”, said the Carpenter as he scanned the horizon, the low hill was only a few miles off now.
“But if you are a beloved son”, the dragon said slowly, “bad things should not happen to you.”
“What does one thing have to do with the other?” asked the Carpenter.
The dragon ignored the question and declared “you know that He does not love you, that is why you would not jump. Deep down, you know that He cannot be trusted.”
“Men need to be tested, not God”, responded the Carpenter.
“And which are you?” snapped the dragon.
The Carpenter slowed, turning to look at the dragon, he stood still staring into those deep, dark, dead ancient eyes. “You will be undone by a man, not a god”, he said slowly but sternly. The dragon stiffened and blinked. His eyes smoldered but the Carpenter held his gaze; they stood there for several long moments, the black eyes of the dragon being held, almost against his will, by the soft, weary, brown eyes of the Carpenter.
The dragon jerked away, “enough of this”, he said lightly, and strode off in the direction of the hill. The Carpenter followed; he knew their journey was almost over, and sensed that whatever lay beyond the hill would mark the end of their time together. He would be glad to be rid of the beast but he was not looking forward to whatever it had planned.
They approached the hill and the dragon strode up it confidently, serenely; the Carpenter walked slowly some distance behind, his head down and his shoulders slumped, more tired now than he had ever felt, the weeks of constant battle and temptation weighing on him now in a relentless way, no relief.
They reached the summit and walked through a line of scruffy trees and boulders; as he emerged he saw the dragon standing with his back to him, the Carpenter approached and stood next to him, he looked down on the scene the dragon was observing.
Spread out before them on a plain much lower than the one they had just ascended from, was a city. The Carpenter was not sure what city it was but he knew it was real and not some conjured image that the beast had wrought, it was Judean, but he was too tired to work out the geography and he did not know Judea the way that he knew Galilee where he had grown up, it could have been anywhere. The layout was familiar; the street grid, the synagogue in the distance, the houses, the people moving through the streets on all their daily errands. Close at hand, at the bottom of the hill was a busy street lined with vendors and stalls and carts, all selling their wears; dyed cloths, pottery, trinkets, water, and food. The food! Fish mongers and stalls selling roasted vegetables, people cooking various meats and kabobs, stacks of bread that had been baked that morning. The smell was intoxicating and the Carpenter was instantly hungry in a way he had never been before.
He turned to see the dragon staring at him passively. He looked away from the scene and walked over to a nearby boulder and leaned his back against it, sliding down to sit with his hands on his knees and his head laying back against the rock. He stared at the sky, it had grown strangely overcast, like a barrier, or a shield. The dragon followed his gaze.
“No help there I think”, stated the dragon. The Carpenter looked back down at his own hands.
“What do you want?” asked the Carpenter.
“Look at these people”, said the dragon, “what do you see?”
The Carpenter lifted his eyes and watched the men and women going about their day. “I see sheep”, he replied, “without a shepherd.”
“I am their shepherd”, said the dragon.
“You are their taskmaster”, replied the Carpenter.
“What is the difference?”, asked the dragon, “they are lead either way.”
“You want slaves”, answered the Carpenter, “He wants children.”
“Don’t you want to end their suffering?”, asked the dragon.
“You know that I do”, answered the Carpenter.
“Then do it”, dared the dragon. The Carpenter looked at him weakly, but remained silent.
The dragon walked over and crouched down in front of the seated man, “kneel before me”, it said, “submit to me and I will give all of them”, at this he jerked his helmeted head over his shoulder, “to you, then you will have the freedom and authority to fix their empty lives.”
The Carpenter laid his weary head back against the rock and closed his eyes, “you are not God”, he said flatly.
The dragon ignored him and pressed on, “they are broken”, it said, “don’t you want to fix them?”
“You broke them”, said the Carpenter without opening his eyes, “Why do you care?” The dragon stared at him, pondering another line of approach.
“All of these people”, it said at last, “they were made to serve you, were they not?”
The Carpenter opened his eyes and lowered them to look in the dragons’ eager, pleading face, “I have not come to be served, but to serve”, he said softly. The dragon tilted his head, quizzically, like a dog hearing an unfamiliar pitch that it could not comprehend.
The dragon stood and began pacing back and forth in front of the exhausted seated Carpenter, like a centurion lecturing raw recruits. “I can make you the king” it said with absolute authority, “Caesar himself would bow down to you in my world. Come, kneel, give me my do, pay homage, no one needs to know, then you can fix all of the miseries these people are subjected to, what do you say to that young teacher?”
The Carpenter looked at the horizon and replied, “I am already a king, I was born a king.”
The dragon stopped and looked down at the Carpenter, “king?” he asked mockingly. He looked around extravagantly, “I see no throne, I see no armies, all these belong to me”, it boasted. “I will give them all to you if you will only bow, think of the good that you could do with all of that earthly power, don’t you care?”
“But you are not God”, the Carpenter replied simply.
The dragon walked over and sat in front of the Carpenter, he leaned forward, spreading out his hands palms up, assuming a posture of reasonableness. “I am the god of this world, you know this, I am willing to share this glory if you will just acknowledge me.”
“Why is this so important to you?”, asked the Carpenter, “surly the opinion of one man should not matter to one so glorious as you, what is it that you really want?”
“I want what all want”, replied the dragon, “I want to be adored.”
“You want to be worshipped”, said the Carpenter.
“It is the same thing”, responded the dragon.
“It’s not the same thing”, said the Carpenter.
“Your so-called Father and I are after the same thing, what makes my desire wrong and His desire right? How is He in any way more noble than I?”
“His desire is to be worshipped for the benefit of the worshipper, you would be worshipped for your own sake.” answered the Carpenter
The dragon scoffed, “you are splitting hairs, what is the difference?”
The Carpenter looked at him, “it is the difference between Heaven and Hell”, he explained, “this place”, he continued, gesturing toward the city, “is destined to become Heaven on Earth, you would make it a hell on Earth.”
The dragon shook his head in bewilderment, “but I am offering it all to you!” it said, “once it is in your hands you can transform it into whatever paradise you like, only worship me.”
“But, you are not God”, replied the Carpenter.
“Stop saying that!” screamed the dragon.
The Carpenter laughed a weak laugh despite the absurdity of the situation.
The dragon stood and transformed into a dazzling bright angelic form, its glory so piercing the Carpenter had to look away. It remained that way for several long minutes, his very presence demanding to be worshipped. Then it quickly changed again, into a literal dragon standing on its back legs, towering over the Carpenter. It spread enormous wings over the seated man and snarled at him; mouth gaping and drooling hideously. The Carpenter ignored it and peered under one of its wings toward the small city below them, he wondered if others could see this display or if it was only for his eyes. The dragon beat its wings a few times, then dropped to all fours and strode away towards the trees, thumping its tail on the ground as it went. The Carpenter leaned against his rock and watched the city for a while until he began to doze again.
“Galilean” said a deep sober voice. The Carpenter popped open his eyes, the Roman soldier had returned; he stood a few feet away looking down at the Carpenter, his eyes cold, his face both sad and stern.
“Yours was the only beauty greater than mine”, began the dragon, “I will take that from you.” The dragon was speaking plainly for the first time in all the long weeks together in the wilderness; it had played its last trick and had done all that it knew to make the Carpenter fall, but he had not fallen. Now the only thing he had left in his arsenal with which to hurt the man was the truth.
“I will pour ashes on your glory, you will be unrecognizable; your own mother would not even recognize you, except that I shall have her stand at your feet and watch you drown in your own blood. Do you know what that does to a woman?”
the Carpenter winced, he loved his mother dearly and he knew that for once the dragon was not lying. The beast continued speaking but its voice was not angry, it spoke dispassionately, like a lawyer listing the details of a crime not yet committed.
“Your Father who you say loves you so, shall forsake you and leave you to die. Instead of the myriad host shouting your glory to the universe, I will assemble a jeering mob that will laugh as you are beaten and destroyed. You will be left friendless and homeless and undesired.”
“Gods representatives on Earth will spit in your face in His name, and before this is all over these precious ones that you came to seek and to save? They shall stab you in the heart. Is that what you want son of man? Bow to me.”
As the dragon was speaking it had moved steadily closer, it had grown, and was now looming over the Carpenter, who had remained seated on the ground with his hands on the top of his head as if to ward off a blow. To an observer it would have appeared as just another large powerful Roman soldier standing over and berating just another downtrodden Jew. This was no contest; the man on the ground was broken, empty and weak, A dimly burning wick, a tiny flame that the soldier could simply step on and grind out.
But there was no soldier, and this was not a broken Jew. The Carpenter staggered to his feet leaning heavily against the rock. He stared into the remorseless eyes of the monster that confronted him and said slowly through dry cracked lips, “you are not God, there is only one God and you are not him, I shall never bow to you.” The dragon stepped back and seemed to diminish in size, he simply stood with his hands hanging down at his side, deflated, and stared at his exhausted opponent.
The Carpenter shook his head, “your own glory has deceived you”, he said, “it was a beautiful gift from the Throne and you allowed it to own you. Why could you not just have enjoyed it?”
The dragon turned and walked to the edge of the hill, looking down on the city and its inhabitants. Soon it turned to address the man one last time, “I will never stop waring on your children”, it said flatly.
The Carpenter gazed on the vendors in the street below; he caught a glimpse of children playing in one of the narrow streets, nearby, women were chatting as they hung out clothing to dry. “I know”, was all he said. The dragon gazed at him with ancient disdain, he shrugged his shoulders, turned, walked down the hill and into the city.
The man watched the dragons’ caped back as it stepped into the street full of vendors. This conversation would haunt him like a shadow every day. For he now knew for certain what he had only suspected before; that his throne would be purchased with blood, his own blood. That life for men and women would only come through his death, their peace through his struggle, their relief through his pain, their blessing through his being cursed, their filling through his emptying.
He looked at the people, his brothers and sisters. He watched as the dragon moved among them hungrily. The man felt a flash of hot anger; he would not abandon these people, his people, he would never leave them to the mercy of the dragon. He would drink whatever cup was assigned to him. The dragon paused by a food vendor grilling kabobs over an open flame. He looked up the hill at the man who was looking down on him; the dragon made a display of elaborately smelling the food and smiling broadly, as if it had any notion of tastiness or pleasure, or could ever enjoy a thing for its own sake.
The Carpenter looked back toward the east; the sky, which had grown dark and threatening during their conversation, was now clearing. He felt his spirit lift, for the first time in many weeks he felt light-hearted, unburdened and eager for the tasks ahead. He turned and caught one last glimpse of the dragon as it disappeared into the crowd. He looked at all the food, his stomach growled. He shook his head slightly and turned to go back into the wilderness, he needed to pray, he would slay dragons another day.
© 2019 JD Green