V
Why is this night different from all other nights? High up in the sky, the day endures for a little longer, but the houses below have gone dark and the lights are already coming on, more and more of them now, they keep coming on, only a few windows are still dark, time passes, here is one that came on late, and that’s about it now, there will be no more, time passes and then once again, one by one, they will go out, they came on for only a few hours, now it’s time for them to turn off, just a few will stay on, sparse, forgotten, and the people will lower their eyelids and turn to sleep. But, no, tonight they all stay lit, and if you come near the window, you will see that the large table has been set, the candles are burning and will drip forth all the light they have been keeping inside them. And as the night advances, all things will light up, no house tonight will stay in the dark, the light pierces and shines forth through everything, even through walls and the fog and smoke that loom over the city, and, tonight, not even he who closes his eyes, not even he will find darkness. Because tonight, this night is different from all other nights, and it has only come to bring light, to bring along with a different kind of sleep inside of which everyone awakens and remembers, they remember that night, that night from another world, when they had wrapped up their sleep along with the rest and had taken it with them, and now they remember how they had left at that time. It was at that time, that night that had opened the door for them, and they left, led by this flashlight that showed them the way from above and brought them here, where the city is now, this city whose doors kept opening and closing, tonight, and all the people went from house to house, and doors kept opening and closing like thousands of wings. Because they had come here all together and they never forgot that, they remembered and they rejoiced, how it came to be that they left at that time, how during that night, the door was drawn open, the one that had never been opened before. That’s why they were seated around this table, this is what they were celebrating tonight. And they kept talking about that house, which was always in their minds, which they knew was expecting them somewhere, and they talked about he who had come to take them with him, who beckoned them and they all went out in the street, and that’s how they left at that time, and now they were here and every year they kept recounting the story, they rose to speak in turns while the others listened, and the children listened so that they would come to learn how the blood dripped on their doorstep and unlocked the door, how they packed their things in the dead of night and left, how they ate in haste, stealthily, in the dark, and when the day broke, they were all on the road, and a plangent cry was heard everywhere as they left, the loudest and the most mournful that had ever been heard, and nothing like this would be heard ever again, but they did not look back, that was the hour when day broke, the sun was opposite them, the sun was in their eyes and mud was on their feet, a salty kind of mud, the mud, reeds, and mosquitoes, and then the dust, they were unable to see because of the wind and the dust, and no water at all, not even under the stones, nothing, nowhere, not even a drop, only the animals that quenched their thirst with blood, and from the blood of one to the blood of the next they kept going, and went on eating their animals one after the other, but still their thirst kept stalking them. But in the end, they found this river that, as soon as they set foot upon it, stood still as if its water had turned to ice, and let them pass. And they passed. And today the city is standing around them and it has no limit, they said, no place exists outside of us any longer, we have been free ever since and you are hearing the story tonight, so that you can tell it, later, when we are gone, and keep telling it and we shall keep coming home to this great feast.
Thus we will always return to begin once more from this table, upon which the order of time is set with the purpose of having us all join together, and together with him, and with everyone else, and let him come sit in our midst and have dinner with us, he will sit right here—and they showed the children his armchair, still empty between them, and the children wanted to climb on it and sit until he came, but they wouldn’t let them, they said, no, it is not allowed because this is the place of the lord, and the children kept asking where is he now, when will he come. Look, they were telling them, he is on his way, and yet he is already here, he is here along with all things he has given us, look here at the table, he gave us all of this, and they would go on to say that, for their sake, he had even made stones crack open, and a drop of water was held within every stone, and from all these drops a lake was formed and they fell to their knees and they drank. And then they used to briefly stop recounting the story, they drank a glass of wine, the table was all silent now, no one was talking, someone took the bread and broke it, he said, see, this is the bread of our sorrow, and it is baked under the sun, we used to eat it, and heard the sand grind our teeth. This sand is with us still, it’s in the bread, the wine, and what we remember, and before quenching our thirst, we will pour a drop of wine on this plate to go with a prayer, ten times over, and say a prayer with every drop.
That’s what they told them. And when it was time for the meat and the lamb, they cut it and took care not to break the bones, and each hand raised a piece up high, and it was as if the animal were standing upright once more and rejoicing with them, and then one more glass of wine would follow, the symbol of the blood now returning, the blood that drowned death and engulfed him forever, it has engulfed him by now and everyone has stepped over him, he is far out of view, he has even less substance than this shadowy blot at the bottom of the lake, he is barely heard, he has less substance than this very whisper, this tail of a snake slithering into the reeds, or the creak of the door that swung open when the captives came out. And they were set free, and crossed from one bank to the other, the water stood still and waited for them and they stepped upon it, and they covered it as if they were dry leaves, so incredibly light, that the water would barely feel them, like those bones that are so incredibly light they are barely felt by the soil underneath them, they stand upright and walk, weightless, and they still go, like we do, all together, from one house to the next. And tonight, each of us holds such a bone in his hand, so incredibly light, and it’s grown even lighter by now, and as we all sit, eating together, and everyone eats holding a bone in his hand, when there is no more meat, we say, come, let’s put them back together again, and we make a long chain, each bone touching the next one, and by this chain we hold tightly together, and that’s why it won’t break and we never shall split apart. Because we are all part of this feast, each with his bone, and, come now, one child on one side, the other child on the other, hold the bone in your hand as it is holding you by the hand, let us hold the bones whose meat we have eaten, close our eyes and try to think what would happen if we put these bones together again, what would they become, a ladder would emerge from them, made out of the bones of all the animals woven together with those of the people who ate them, come to think about that, and if we made a ladder with them all, how high up could it reach, it would lift us right up to the sky.
Right up to the sky. That’s what the sky was for them, it was what still lay above them in wait. And so they had come all together tonight, with the songs and the wine and the meat, they were one moving essence that wanted to rise up there, or someplace else, wherever it could, even though it never knew where, yet it longed to rise, and perhaps it might reach the highest place, the sky of the world that was formed within their eyes. And even if no one saw that world, even if no one believed anything that had been said about it, at least they would trust in their eyes. Something had settled in there, a tear to be found in no other place, and perhaps it was there that the one they spoke about would come, and if anyone would be up to imagining him, they would be able to see him as he came down the stairs, now it was one ladder for them, a ladder of light reaching down to their minds. It was that particular moment in the midst of the feast when all things rushed to the mind as one, and they remembered all of it now, in a single instant, and right at that single instant they had forgotten again all about it, the feast was getting more boisterous and became ever louder, now they are laughing and talking and hugging and kissing and dancing and singing as if they have nothing else left, only that instant of the feast that has grown so much by now, and every mind is a link in the chain that’s locked in on itself, that tonight has gotten hold of them all and does not let them go, and everything starts and ends here, with those who are here now, at this very moment, and for those who are not, a door is flung open, it opens someplace inside them, and even they, those that are missing, are coming through it.
That’s what the world is about for them tonight, and it is the same for all eyes, they make it come true and it will be over only when the feast comes to an end, but it’s not over, the bell rings, there are more at the door, and still even more, one of them may be him, but this isn’t the time to think about that, yes, they have been waiting for him, but now everyone’s here, even if he has not yet arrived. And they don’t even think about how they’d recognize him when he finally came, it’s been a long time since the last time and he may even be here already, he may have arrived, but no one realized, he may be standing right here, right next to them, but he simply may not have had a chance to sit down yet.
If he really has come, however, he will surely stay until morning. He will not go, not even when everyone has surrendered to sleep, quite the opposite, this will be the time for him to take a seat, and he doesn’t mind at all, he will eat among the chairs that are strewn all over the place, the overturned plates and the half-empty glasses, the wine that is the symbol of blood but has not yet dried on the tablecloth, he will sit down to eat with the fire rising behind his back one last time, in front of the window, the night that once changed everything changes them every year, and there is no need for anything else, because this night is like all nights put together, and everyone is awake, even inside their sleep, and he, beside them, will continue to eat, chewing quietly so as not to disturb, and when it’s time for him to leave, he will leave, and he will take along with him the toy that he put in his pocket when he sat down, this teddy bear who had also been sleeping, face down next to his plate, hugging a fork and a knife, as a knocked-over wine glass dripped on its back.