Jesus On Mars

The six Martians went into conference then, speaking the language which Hfathon had said was Krsh.

When they were through, Ya'aqob said, in Greek, 'You are probably right. Please pardon us for what must seem to you an excessive curiosity about certain matters. It is not excessive for us. Indeed, it is the only thing that really matters in our world. But if we're going to get any place we should proceed from the simple to the complex so that we may understand each other.

'But I do have a few questions which may seem irrelevant to you but which we'd like to have answered before we start our mutual education. For one thing, why, if the black man is a disciple of Christ, and therefore Jewish, is he not Jewish? Would a Gentile be circumcised?'

'It has long been the custom to circumcise male infants in the Western world,' Bronski said. 'Not because of religious reasons but for sanitation. Of course, the Muslim religion, which stems from the Jewish religion in part, also requires circumcision. Also, the ancient Egyptians, who held our fathers in bondage, circumcised.'

Ya'aqob looked blank, then said, 'Muslim? Well, you are right. One question only leads to a hundred others. But there is one more on this subject.'

He gestured at the blondish Sha'ul, who opened the box and removed a pile of rations from the lander. So the Martians had entered the vessel. Danton and Shirazi must have seen this and so would all of Earth. He could imagine the consternation, the wonder, the frustration. Perhaps the two had tried to communicate with the invaders, but they would not have known, of course, that only New Testament Greek would be understood. Not that it would have done them any good. Neither could speak it.

Sha'ul held up a can of meat in his gloved hand. The top of it had been removed. Its casing was a thermoplastic hydrocarbon. It could be boiled in water to make a nutritious soup.

'What is this meat?' Sha'ul asked sternly.

'Ham,' Bronski said.

Looking disgusted, Sha'ul dropped the can on the table.

'At least you told the truth,' he said.

Bronski had guessed that the meat had been analysed. He had also anticipated the man's reaction.

After hearing the translation, Orme said, 'So what's the big deal?'

'The Martians are orthodox Jews,' Bronski replied.

4

Fifteen minutes before 'noon', five of the captors left. Sha'ul had departed immediately after ascertaining that the can contained unclean meat. Even though he had not directly touched the ham, he might have had to be ritually cleansed.

As they had done at 12:00 every day, the sirens began wailing. People poured out from the buildings and stood looking up at the burning globe. After three minutes, the sirens moaned off into silence. Another minute passed and then loudspeakers began a chant quickly joined in by the crowds. This was short, perhaps fifteen lines, after which the people dispersed, the office workers to their homes or to tables in parks where they ate, the residents to their houses.

Bronski shook his head. 'They look as if they're worshipping the sun. Its equivalent, I mean. But they can't be. No Jew would even think of worshipping an idol.'

'We'll find out in time,' Orme said. He sat down at the table and began cutting into the ham left by Sha'ul.

'They're watching you,' Bronski said. 'I think they left the ham to see if you'd eat it.'

Orme chewed vigorously. 'Man, that tastes good! I'm crazy about ham, bacon, sausages. Anything that comes from a pig, including the feet.'

'You mean hoofs.'

'We call it pig's feet.'

Bronski gestured irritation. 'I don't think you should have accepted it. It might make a difference in their attitude towards us.'

Orme looked surprised. 'Why? What do they care what I eat?'

'The ancient Hebrews wouldn't eat at the same table with a Gentile. My parents wouldn't either.'

Orme forked in another large piece. 'Something like in my grandparents' day, when whites wouldn't eat with blacks?'

'No, it's not the same thing at all. Gentiles ate ritually unclean food, tabu food. So, to keep from being unclean, the Hebrews refused to eat with Gentiles. They could become impure just by proximity.'

'But they did regard Gentiles as being inferior, didn't they? Gentiles were not the chosen people of God:'

'Not theoretically. All people were equal in the eyes of God. But practically, I suppose, the Hebrews couldn't keep from acquiring an attitude of moral superiority.'

A series of short whistles announced that lunch had been delivered. Bronski removed the two trays from the recess, put one on the table, and took the other to a chair.

Orme grinned at him. 'You aren't going to sit at the table with me?'

'I've been sitting with you at mealtime ever since the launch,' Bronski said. 'Even when you were eating the flesh of swine. Don't make light of this, Richard. It may seem a ridiculous matter to you, but to these people it is a very serious business. I'm not taking a chance of... uh... getting contaminated. One of us has to have some credibility. I mean, be looked at with some respect. They might not want to deal with you, so...’

'Just remember that I'm captain,' Orme said.

'To me you are. To them, well, I don't know. So far you're just a prisoner who offends them because of your diet preference.'

'Yeah, but you've offended them, startled them, anyway, because you aren't a disciple of lesous ho Christos. Of Jesus Christ. How do you reconcile their Jewishness with their statement about Jesus?'

'I don't. I don't know what's going on here.'

Orme ate the bread (there was no butter), beans, peas, and an apple. Bronski finished his mutton, lettuce, bread, and apple.

After a sip of the wine Bronski smacked his lips. 'Very good.'

The captain grinned again. 'Maybe we could get a monopoly on Martian wine. We could really clean up on Earth.'

He rose and went into an inner room. Shortly after the sound of flushing water reached Bronski, Orme reappeared.

'I've been watching them closely, but I never see them do anything or say anything to open the door.'

'A monitor must do it,’ the Frenchman said. 'What would you do if you could get out?'

'Take off like a stripe-assed ape.'

'That'd be foolish. You wouldn't get more than a few steps.'

'Maybe. But I'd give it the old college try. Wouldn't you come along?'

'Not unless you ordered me to,' Bronski said. 'And I'd protest. Anyway, these people don't seem to have any sinister motives.'

'Not that you know of. But as long as we're being held in jail, we have a duty to try to escape.'

Bronski gestured impatiently.

'They have to quarantine us. We'd do the same if they had landed on Earth.'

'Yes, but you heard Hfathon say we had a clean bill of health. So why don't they let us out?'

'We can't learn the language if we're acting like tourists.'

'That's the best way,' Orme said. 'Talking to the people themselves. Anyway, they haven't even started giving us language lessons.'

Ten minutes later, he admitted that he'd been wrong, at least, in his guess about the Martians' intentions.

Immediately after entering, and making sure that the container of ham was disposed of, Hfathon sat down, holding a box with a large assortment of artefacts. He held up a fork with three very long tines. Articulating slowly, he said 'Shneshdit.'

Bronski, the linguist, succeeded in reproducing the word after only two attempts. Orme had to try four times and only succeeded when Bronski told him that the d was pronounced with the tip of the tongue touching above the gum ridge and the t with the tip of the tongue against the roof of the mouth.