God is our Father...the world of nature proclaims His goodness...men must share His divine harmony...you reach God from within...reborn, you recognize the light. Children sang. My love went to them. Astride my donkey I preached to them in simple words. As the sun slipped behind the city towers there were scores listening and we lingered on the terrace: “There is light for you for a little while longer...walk while there is light... darkness will come...he who walks in darkness cannot tell where he is going... believe in the light...” The evening air was becoming chilly; a wind was blowing in from the desert. With my twelve I walked through the Golden Gate, passing great herds of sheep and goats, grey pastoral sheep and black mountain goats. I was proud of my men, proud of their courage and love, proud of their humility. Jerusalem Nisan 29 We met in an upper room—a white-walled room. Centering it was a long table and we sat around it, sharing bread and wine...below us roses were in flower. God was with me as I told them, my legatees, that I must die. “Tonight you are entrusted with the keys of the kingdom. Two at a time you are to go about the world, preaching the gospel. Faith is our church.” I loved each man. Such faces! Bartholomew, Matthew, Luke, James, Simon, Peter, Thaddeus, Judas, John, Phillip. I gazed at one and then the other, fisherman, cobbler, farmer, physician, lawyer...brothers. “Your task is to save mankind!” The lamps on our table shaped shadows on the walls, on the floor, far more than shadows. The white walls enshrined each of us. When the wind puffed our lamps blinked. Ours was an aura that may never recur. “Soon my enemies will crucify me...one of you will betray me...” What consternation! What hysterical exclamations! What accusations! Then the pleas began: you must escape! Let us help you! We can! Listen...flee...tonight. “Faith is the miracle for everyone,” I said. “Heal the sick. Remember Cana... Galilee...Lazarus...the lepers on the roadway...” I reminded them that we are samaritans. Mercy is ours, ours to give. We are to help the heavy laden. Love our children. We are to teach by example. Israel, I told myself, you are to nurture goodwill, tolerance, peace, hope. So it was in that white room, at that hour. Clibus’ By the light of candles I write, to shepherd words, to commune once more. There is little time for writing, little time for thinking. I feel that I must endure. By the flickering lights I commune with Father, Mother, earth. I would like to go on healing the sick, alleviating pain, the body’s pain, the soul’s. To be a good shepherd, yes. Will my disciples persevere? I can write no more tonight. Peter’s Iyyar 2 O h, Jerusalem, you killer of prophets, stoner of those sent to help you! How I have wanted to care for your children as a hen cares for her chicks under her wings. You would not have me!