70.3 They go out into the olive-grove. But before going out, John takes something out of the knapsack in the corner. They walk for a little while and they reach a brow from which the whole of Jerusalem can be seen.
«Let us sit down here and talk a little» says Jesus.
But John prefers to sit at Jesus’ feet on the short grass, and he rests his arm on Jesus’ knees, with his head reclined on his arm, looking now and again at Jesus. He looks like a little boy near the person dearest to him. «It is beautiful also here, Master. Look how large the town seems at night. Larger than by day.»
«It is because the moonlight shades the outlines. See: the borders seem to widen out in a silver brightness. Look at the top of the Temple, up there. Does it not look as if it were suspended in mid air.»
«It seems supported by angels on their silver wings.»
Jesus sighs.
«Why are You sighing, Master?»
«Because the angels have abandoned the Temple. Its feature of purity and holiness is now confined to its walls only. Those who should impress it into its soul — because every place has its soul, that is the spirit for which it was built, and the Temple has, or should have, a soul of prayer and holiness — those who should energise such spirit, are instead the first to suffocate it. You can not give what you do not possess, John. And if there are many priests and Levites living there, not even one tenth of them are capable of giving life to the Holy Place. They give death instead. They transmit the death of their own souls, which are dead to what is holy. They have their formulae. But they do not have the essence of them. They are corpses that are warm only because putrifaction swells them.»
«Have they done You wrong, Master?» John is all upset.
«No. On the contrary they allowed Me to speak when I asked to.»
«Did You ask them? Why?»
«Because I do not want to be the one who starts war. There will be war in any case. Because I shall be the cause of a silly human fear for some, and the cause of reproach for others. But this must be written in their book, not in Mine.»