“Son,” the old man said softly, “I did not come here this morning to preach to you. Your eyes have already been opened, I know. What you must learn to accept is that Jesus was murdered because he even loved those who would kill him and they hated him because he loved them. They could not comprehend his love, for it flew against all reason in a world that demands payment for all goods and services, and punishment for all crimes, leaving no room for charity or mercy or compassion. Sooner or later all mankind will realize that the greatest cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrows and crimes of humanity rests solely in acts of love. Love is the greatest gift from God. It is the divine spark that everywhere produces and restores life. To each and every one of us, love gives us the power, as it did to you, Matthias, to work miracles with your own life and those we touch.”

Joseph stood and limped slowly toward the door, turning with his hand on the latch to ask, “Have you any plans for us, anyone else you would like to visit?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Good. Perhaps you should rest today, in preparation for your return journey. I too am weary.”

“Is this your Sabbath?”

“No. Tomorrow is our Sabbath. Later today I must leave you for a short while in order to attend to some business in my warehouse. Still, I can not allow you to depart from this house without first showing you those things of Jesus that I have managed to acquire. Yesterday, before you had spoken with Shobi, I told you, in response to your question, that I had doubts that your seeing my collection would help you to understand the truth. But now …”

Arriving in the lower wing of Joseph’s palace, his cultural center, we had passed the studio of Hermogenes, the sculptor, and the three rooms filled with shelves of scrolls before we were standing in front of the only closed door in the area. Joseph fumbled in his tunic, removed a large silver key, and turned it in the lock. The door’s hinges creaked noisily as he pushed it open and stood aside for me to enter.

“Kindly take no notice of the dust, Matthias,” the old man apologized. “I allow none of my servants to clean in here, and I myself am a very careless housekeeper.”

Compared to the other rooms in the palace it was little more than a storage place. Three long tables, standing parallel to one another, occupied most of the limited floor space, surrounded by stark whitewashed walls with two high windows along one side and a wide bronze door on the other. Dark green cloths covered the tables. I followed Joseph to the one nearest the wall. Without any preliminary remarks he pulled the green material down far enough for me to see his first exhibit.