Apocalypse of Jude

Caul wakes, the day being ruthless in assaulting his mind as to its nature. Slowly a dream slips back into his head. He plays with the vivid pieces and puts it together, the old woman talking, a Bible in her hands, two old school classmates for some reason, and fragments of phrases as lucid and violent as his visions. But it is the talk of God and of knowing him that sings in his soul.

/can you teach me how to know you/ /because ive tried to figure it out myself and i don’t know how/ /and it feels as if death is now waiting to take my flesh as it already has my spirit/

Surprised though he is at his prayer, he assents with his heart, and rises, leaving his room to go upstairs. In the bathroom he relieves himself before walking towelled, waist clad, down the passage. He is about the enter the kitchen, but his eyes notice Jude sitting as a straw man smoking outside. The image shocks him with its portent, then he realises it’s dangerous for a straw man to smoke. He drifts towards the door leading out to the veranda and a world still enshrouded in mist. He looks warily at the dishevelled figure on the couch.

“Rough night?”

Jude’s response is a disinterested pursing of his lips. He doesn’t bother to turn his head, but just looks straight ahead smoking.

“What happened?”

Caul sits on the edge of the couch consciously aware of his naked torso. Jude doesn’t say anything for another minute, yet an anger of betrayal deepens in his face. Finally he turns to Caul.

“It’s a curious thing, Caul. Paul’s using me to usurp your place tonight Caul. I’m supposed to be death’s effigy waiting to be brought back to life.”

Caul’s heart is in his mouth with fear and sudden sickness. Jude watches Caul’s face change, grimness remaining on his.

“Yes, I sold my soul and my property to revenge a church that betrayed me, and at Pentecost, Paul prepared me ritually to be the priest who brings your god back to life.”

The colour drains from Caul’s face, his stomach churning nauseous on its emptiness. Jude looks at Caul almost piteously.

“Is there nothing in your head except your own pride? You’re not as important as you thought you were. It is the priest who has all the power. Not the consort. The power to save you lies with me Caul. ”

Jude’s laugh is demeaning.

“But you might still have a chance with Mae, Caul. Because what’s meant to be dead in me is not dead, and doesn’t seem to want to die. The hooded figure you claim to have seen beside me may have been the Spirit after all.”

The vapour of mist settling on Caul’s skin suddenly is no longer cold death enclosing its fingers of final doom around him, as he realises Paul has lied to him, but realises above all what a fool his pride has made of him.

A bitter, sullen tone continues in Jude’s voice.

“You’ve done a good job healing me Caul, making me walk through a purgatory of the sacraments with you these past seven months. It looks like you’ve unwittingly brought me to the edge of the eternal fire that I have to pass through if I’m going to enter into paradise. It’s just penance, then the Eucharist that I need now. But I’m afraid Peter’s gate would not open to me, even if I did choose penance. I knew that when I entered the first time, that he who looks back goes out again.”

“You may have never left, but just been stuck on the mountain for too long.”

Jude just stares stonily at Caul, and continues.

“I realise the grace of my baptism is gone. There is not enough in the Church’s treasury of saintly and virgin prayers and deeds to ever cover my apostasy. You’ve healed, but your healing is not enough. You’ve failed in your quest my knight.”

Caul breathes out heavily, but in growing relief as he feels the weight of his pride fall from his back like a large stone; unsure of himself, but wanting to speak of his heart.

“I know my healing is not enough. If I ever thought it was, it was just my pride.”

Jude looks at him half-angered, but feels amazement at the humility within Caul’s confession.

“So, if you feel I’ve done anything to heal you Jude, you’re wrong. I don’t know what it was that brought upon me such an urgency to see you healed that day of Pentecost. But when it came, my pride kicked in, thinking that I had been given the right to special knowledge to heal you, and that I could do it by seeking that knowledge in my own strength. But now I’ve realised that when it comes to restoring spiritual life, human effort is worthless. Only that which is not wounded by evil can save from evil. And that to me is God. So, I guess, if you are feeling healed, there is nothing that my words or influence have done to bring it about. It must come down to God’s work in you. And if He’s working at healing you, I can’t see why he would waste His time on someone who couldn’t be restored to full health. So I guess the question you have to answer is, are you alive, or not? And if you are then…”

For a moment, Jude wants to tear into Caul with hatred and beat and kick his half naked body. But then he oddly begins to fully enjoy the irony. Jude laughs lightly to himself.

“Guess I didn’t train to be a priest for nothing then.”

He looks back into Caul’s eyes.

“Well then my dear Caul, if it’s God you want, it’s repentance you need. If you really think you can know God, He ain’t going to listen to you till you confess you’re a bad boy. After that it’s the beautiful robe, the ring and the festive banquet for the prodigal, so the Church says.”

Jude draws heavily on the last of his cigarette and stubs it out in an overfull ashtray.

“I guess even you now have the chance to walk through the purifying fire. But not for me Caul. Please don’t come patronise me anymore.”

He rises and walks inside, moves through the passage to his room where he closes the door, leaving Caul alone in the shroud of mist, the idea of repentance driving deep into him, bringing him to slow realisation that his prayer has been answered and that the way to knowing God has been shown.

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 45