He was nominated first, but the lot fell to Matthias. That was the story of his life, condensed and compressed and summed up with sarcastic humor into a single, miserable, ridiculous event. Perhaps it was his name that made him unattractive to lady luck, so that lord fate could have no word in the matter, we know who wears the pants in their house. Or maybe it was rather that he really had no name. The confusion started early. Some called him Joseph, a name he inherited from his maternal grandfather, but his father’s side of the family called him Barsabbas, and he was never sure if they meant it as son of the old man, because he shared his name with one, or son of quiet, because he was a quiet child, and that was rare enough to deserve a title of its own. He also acquired other names throughout the years, usually descriptive of his person and his character, the most famous one was Justus. That name was acquired by faith, for wherever the Healer was, there was Joseph Barsabbas. He followed his master wherever he went even before the Healer went into the water and came out knowing he was the son of God. He conversed with him often, but he never was admitted to the inner circle. Perhaps because whenever the others arrived, he would go quiet, as if he could only speak to the holy man alone. Besides this he was too young, and it was too dangerous, and more importantly, he was not married. When he heard the Healer say that many were called and few were chosen, it was not any consolation to reason that many were not all, and that he was at least among the many, because he was clearly not among the chosen, at least not yet. Still he would serve, as best he could and as the Healer asked of him, both before his untimely death and after his timely resurrection.
He still had hope his time would come, and he kept that hope until the very last minute, until the moment of truth. The lot was thrown. While it was in the air, Joseph Barsabbas the Just recalled the many thoughts that had occupied his mind since the nomination, all at once, as if outside of time. It was true that Matthias was favored by all, more experienced, more influential, a stronger personality, and married, but the man of many names or no name felt he had lady luck on his side this time, and in a contest such as this, if not in all of them, she was the key. The reason why he thought so was less than scientific, and it was this. He had always been a quiet man, and this he shared with two well known people, and not many others, and these two were very important indeed. The first person was the Godman himself. He knew, for example, that his public ministry had been almost as painful to the soul as the crucifixion had been to the flesh and spirit, and that every time he needed refuge, he took it in solitude, even if often that solitude included the company of his close friends, or his mother, and even more often, that of Mary Magdalene, his wife. The second person was Jacob, whose victory was against fate, and no one can defeat fate without the help of chance. And though no one knew why she had looked favorably on Jacob, one thing he was known for was being quiet, and Barsabbas, the son of quiet, felt that he was in some way the son of Jacob, and so perhaps he had a chance with Lady Luck, perhaps he too would bear the fate of Israel on his shoulders. But at the last moment she turned her countenance away. Despite his hopes, the lot fell to Matthias, as we know, and that was that.
Different thoughts came now to Joseph’s mind. Before they had come all at once, like a cloud, now they came one after the other, a rapid fire of questions and accusations, like rain. To be Jacob he should steal the blessing, overturn both fate and chance, was not his acquired name Israel, he who struggles with God. But just as quickly as the thoughts came, the retort appeared, That’s how Jacobs turn to Cains, and so he pursued the matter no more, concluding, The Master would never do this, though he asked the cup to be taken away, he still drank it. And so would he, even if he was unaware that struggle takes many forms.
As he watched the others celebrate with their wives and welcome Matthias into the fold, he realized that had been the clincher, lady luck was herself a married woman, she would never choose an unmarried man. But now it was too late, and he had known the answer for a long time. He had tried to find a wife, but the girl he had his sights on had chosen another one, promptly admitted to the group. And then he even considered taking one at random, for there were always women following the Healer, and many others following the group of his close friends, and every single one of them would have taken him as a husband, but the holy man had told him that it would be better to be a eunuch than to marry for the wrong reasons. And so he obeyed. To the end of his days he obeyed, waiting for the time when he could finally set out to find the answer, why his life had been been like this, why had the lot fell to the other, always.
When death came he was not surprised. He had served his small community and now the brutes came for him, as the Master had said they would. But though the people mourned his capture and then his death, he really had no one, and so he was not frightened, in fact, when the blade reached the neck, he was rather happy, because not only had he avoided the more gruesome death by flame, and not only was he going to die the death of the Baptist, but he would finally be free to pursue his answer. He knew what to expect after that, the Master had told him that too. His dead eyes were opened to all the spirits that live side by side with humans but that mortal eyes see not, There is a very big difference between the eyes of flesh and the eyes of death, the master had said. Yet even that was no surprising sight, for he had learned to see them before, he had learned to die before death, at least a little bit, as the Master had taught him. Every soul was allowed a few days on earth after death, to say goodbye to loved ones, but he had no one, not really, so he simply waited until his soul become so light that it started to be dragged upwards. Then he knew the fight would begin. He fought the demons and devils in the air, and with the help of the saints and the angels and the gods he defeated every one, one by one he jostled with and punched and kicked and defeated. Except the last one, the devil of resentment, which he could not kill, and here too was a lesson the Master had taught him, It’s hard to defeat those devils after death which we have not defeated in life. Still, the battle was a draw, and the final score allowed him to keep rising in the air, until the light was too bright that it blinded him completely.
When he began to regain the power of sight he knew he had a wound on his side, a wound he received while fighting with the last devil, and the only one that hadn’t healed. Then, though he couldn’t immediately see who it was, for his sight was still not fully restored, or rather, rebirthed, he felt there was a man beside him, and almost immediately he knew who it was, perhaps by the scent of spikenard, it had remained with him since he was anointed, even after death. And so, his voice trembling with emotion, he said, Master, and prostrated himself at his feet, but the man took his hands, raised him and then said, Joseph, do not call me master, for you are my friend, and the men embraced, as two old time friends would after a long absence. That’s when Barsabbas noticed so many people sitting and standing around the place, and asked, What are they doing, They are waiting for their spouses, they cannot enter through the gate alone, but that’s why I’m here, I came to take you with me, though you have no wife, I’ve made a place for you, it is only a room for now, but in my father’s house there are many mansions, as you know, and in those mansions there are many rooms. By then Joseph was fully in command of his senses, and he said, No, I have somewhere else to go, something to do. The godman had put his hand on his side and closed the wound, but the hurt he could not take away, it would not disappear until they walked across the gate, and so he was surprised and asked, Where will you go, and Barsabbas replied, I will go the land of the pagans, where the gods dwell, To do what, To find the goddess of luck, What for, To ask her why, You might as well ask why the sun shines on the righteous as well as the unrighteous, It’s not the same, You’re right, it’s not, but it is equally unanswerable, don’t you see, the goddess of luck is only a goddess of freedom, if there is freedom there is chance, and don’t you remember what the wise Solomon said, Yes, I remember, chance happens to all, but I must know why for me it was always bad luck and never good, She won’t know the answer, she’s not a goddess of wisdom, And what would your wife say, She would answer with that story I once told you, about a farmer in the east who went through so many trials and tribulations but knew appearances can be deceiving, and so always said in the end, who knows what’s good and what’s bad, But that’s not an answer, that’s a question, Isn’t it always.
Joseph knew what Jesus meant, not so much from his words but from his smile. His death had been a tragedy, and yet, from that tragedy had come an opportunity, the opening of a gate into eternal and abundant life, where before had only been eternal and abundant death, to ensure not victory but to prevent the inevitability of defeat. But still, that was Jesus’ lesson and Jesus’ mission, and he still didn’t know what his own was, and there was no one waiting for him either on earth or on the other side of the gate. Jesus knew Barsabbas had made up his mind, and his long conversation had not been because he thought he could change it, he only missed his friend and their quiet and deep talks, and wanted to savor the moment, not even he knew when or if he would see his friend again, but he trusted chance, and he trusted fate, and he trusted the freedom that was born of both.
Before Barsabbas set off into the sunset, for the sun was now always setting on the land of the pagans, Jesus gave him his staff, with a warning, Use it only for good, otherwise you might never find your way. Joseph asked what that meant, but Jesus said only, Those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, let them see and let them hear, with a sly smile on his face, and then as the smirk turned sweet, he said, Until we meet again, my friend.
*
Oizys was sullen from an early age, a nostalgic longing pressing always on her chest. A quiet, simmering sadness, which could easily transform later in life into bitterness. Her family did nothing to nurture her nature, if anything the opposite, for they avoided her like the plague, and so her nature fermented, and festered, and became ten times more dreadful. Unlike her brothers and sisters, and mother and father, and cousins and uncles and aunts, no one in the human world sang her praises, no one called to her for help, no one even told her stories, no tragedies and no comedies, nothing. Her name was only recorded in genealogies, and even those were wrong, for she was not the daughter of Night and Darkness, nor the twin sister of Momus, the god of mockery, but rather Fate and Chance were her father and mother, and Joy her twin brother. But all men were afraid of her, and all gods despised her, and so even her history was invented, recorded only as an afterthought, and fully made up. No one wanted her at all. Still, there was no fighting fate, there was no war to wage. She was a goddess of distress, the princess of misery, the enemy of all good times, or so they said, and so she accepted herself, or who they said she was.
After many years of bitterness, however, not even that remained. When the sun began to set on the land of the gods, her bitterness started to give way. Only a few were left behind, but they were loners and jinns, or devils and fiends, and while the first wanted nothing with anyone, the second wanted only to keep tormenting humans. Was she ever like them, she asked herself sometimes, but she didn’t remember. The answer now seemed to be negative, for she had no interest in the human world at all, not to help it, and not to harm it. Perhaps it was the gentle rain that had started to fall when the sun began to set that had washed the bitterness away like the leeching of an acorn, yet it was not enough for the seed to sprout and begin to grow into a tree. Whatever the case may be, and whatever the reason, little by little she had returned to the quiet sadness of her childhood, and spent her days sitting alone in a marshy field, watching the perennial sunset of the gods. Now, after all this time, she had finally decided, there was no point to her life at all, and she would take it, she would drown herself in the marsh. But before she could get up she was startled by a tap on the shoulder.
She was not used to being approached, it had rarely happened before the sun began to set, and even then only to tease and mock her, and after that, no one at all. So she was caught off guard in more ways than one when Barsabbas tapped her on the shoulder and, taking a second to recover from the beautiful face that had just turned to face him, he asked her in his quiet voice, Excuse me miss, do you know where I can find the goddess of luck. And she did. The truth was the goddess of luck had left along with her husband, the god of fate, as soon as the gate was opened, much like all the other couples. This was because all the gods agreed, and all said the same, freedom had become available to all, fate had no longer any hold, each man would make his own luck, and so there was nothing for any god to do. She was going to tell him this, but she was so tired of being alone and the quiet man had such warm eyes, and his timely appearance had just saved her from eternal death, so she lied, and told him what he wanted to hear, Yes, I know where you can find her.
When she finished her explanation of how to get to the house that had been her mother’s, she said, You know, I’m not doing anything, but the man was thinking about his dangerous route through the marsh, so he didn’t notice the suggestion, and said simply, Well, thank you miss, enjoy your time off, and turned to leave. He had already started to walk when she approached, timidly, and asked, equally timidly, Do you need company, and then added before he could reply, as I was saying, I’m not doing anything, I can take you there, Well ok, it will be easier to get there with someone who knows the way, Yes, indeed, and I do.
They walked in silence at first, and the woman was holding her own hand behind her back, and biting her lip, until eventually she had the courage to ask, What’s your name. This was of course the worst question to begin a conversation with this particular man, but she did not know it. Joseph Barsabbas the Just was slightly annoyed at the question, but he did not hold it against her, after all, how could she know, and it wasn’t her fault if he never had a proper name to go by. So he told her and then she felt bad for having asked the question. They walked in silence for a while, but she kept thinking about what he had told her, and finally said, My own name is Oizys, but I’ve been called many others, you know, we don’t have that problem, What problem, The problem of names, pagan gods are used to being called many different ones, Oh I see, that’s true, I hadn’t ever thought of that. And then he even chuckled as he said, Maybe I am not a christian saint at all, but a pagan god. But he saw that her face was stern and sad instead of amused.
He wasn’t sure if he should ask, but her eyes were so sad, and she was so beautiful, that he summoned the courage, What’s the matter, It’s just that at least your name appears in the holy book, mine appears only in unholy ones, Do you mean to say that all non christian books are unholy, No, I mean to say that whenever my name appears, it is unholy, Why do you say that, Because I am the goddess of misery, that’s what my name means, and everyone hates me, Well it’s only normal to hate misery. Now he felt guilty of having said it, so he was moved to add, You know until recently it was only natural to feel that things were black and white, and indeed they were, it took someone of great genius to makes us understand all the shades of grey, Well, not here, and not for most, you have much faith but the truth is not much has changed, other than this world being hollowed, These things take time, was all he could say, but he himself had not been exactly patient, in fact, what was he doing there at all, but pursuing the perfect division between black and white, between fate and chance, between yes and no. Then he said, I understand your predicament, and it’s true, but try seeing it from the other side, that before there was no chance at all, misery would always be misery, and now there is a chance that it can be turned to glory. She pondered, and she said, But I always knew that, I always believed it could, yet nobody else did, in fact, they believed the very opposite, everyone thought misery would only bring more misery, everyone thought that you could have only light and no shadow, and everyone portrayed me as a villain, as a malevolent spirit with evil intentions, Well, are you, No, I’m not, I am just quiet, and in this land everyone mistakes quietness for cunning.
As she said this she felt a pang in her stomach, remembering how she was deceiving the man who had saved her from suicide. Barsabbas then told her that one of his names meant Son of Quiet, and how their fates had not been that different, You see, I always seem to attract bad luck, and when the lot was thrown that sealed my fate, my best friend had left, and all the others, well, they didn’t want me around, they never said it, but they thought it, they believed I would always bring bad luck not just to myself but to them as well, so they sent me to a faraway place, to a mission with no hope, surrounded by enemies, Please tell me about your life. And so the man did, and the woman felt so close to him, and wanted to take his hand and kiss it and hold it close to her chest and never let go, but she couldn’t do it, not before she told him the truth. They were now crossing the marsh through a very narrow and slippery pathway. Barsabbas was in front, and perhaps that’s why she stopped and, lowering her head, she was able to say, Joseph, I need to confess something to you, What is it, You won’t find the goddess of luck, not here, she’s gone, as is almost every other god, in fact, I think I’m the only one left. As she said this the ground gave way beneath her feet and she fell into the water. She could see Barsabbas standing over her like a menacing giant, but she could not discern his expression, did he hate her, would he save her. Instinctively she tried to swim back to the surface, but there were hands all around her and they were dragging her below.
Barsabbas felt his wound ache as he heard Oizys confess, and for a moment he hated her, as much or more as everyone else had always hated her, but then she fell and he saw her struggling in the water, her beautiful pale face was looking right at him, and he felt pity, but not only pity, there was something else too, but there was no time to think it through, he had a choice to make. Oizys had given up her struggle, she had accepted her fate and was sinking when she saw Joseph’s staff penetrate the water, and as it did she was sure she didn’t want to die and so she grasped it firmly, Barsabbas pulled her and in a flash her head was out and she could breathe, and now the man was offering his hand, and asking for hers. And so she gave it, and he took it. She was safe, she was alive, and then she found herself in the Just man’s arms, and though neither one knew what to do next, for all of it was new to both, their lips had a more ancient wisdom and found each other easily.
After that they needed to decide, should they continue towards the sunset, or walk back towards the gate that was now opened, and whose light was brighter than any star. They saw the fading light of the setting sun, and then turned to face the white light of the gate, and they both felt that it was too soon. Too soon for them and too soon for the world, perhaps the gods and the saints were all wrong, there was still fate, and there was still chance, and freedom was still an infant, and needed nurturing and guidance, and most men did not know what to do with it at all. And so they walked towards the sunset, towards the house that was now vacant, and that they would make into their home. Barsabbas would become the new god of Fate, and Oizys the new goddess of chance, after all, and lest we forget, these are just titles, occupations, jobs, and if one quits then another can continue the work, picking up where the other left off. And there was still so much work to do.
Their children would have quiet luck, the best kind there is, the kind that does not give up when things do not go as expected, and that does not boast when they do, the kind that does not think a battle won or lost means the war is over, the kind that neither despairs in defeat nor becomes complacent in victory. But for now their world was still a wasteland, and their job was to renew it. And who knew if the sun would finally plunge into the darkness only to come up again. There was always hope. Or perhaps the sun wasn’t setting at all, but had been rising all along.