By Fire, By Water by Mitchell James Kaplan

despite his moral failures. The same applies to King David, and even to Moses.”
    “If you compare any of them to Jesus,” said Santángel, “it’s hard to see them as great leaders, let alone as founders of an ethical religion.”
    Serero turned to him. “Only if you believe Jesus was morally perfect. The Jewish view is, we’re all flawed. What matters is the struggle. That’s what the story of Jacob wrestling with the angel tells us. The struggle transforms Jacob. The angel gives him a new name, Israel, which means, ‘one who struggles with God.’”
    “That transformation, that struggle,” said Felipe. “I want to understand it.”
    “That is why we’re here, Señor de Almazón,” said the scribe. “That is why we’re all here.”
The Ninth Meeting
     
    A BRAM S ERERO MADE A REQUEST . “A friend of mine, a learned Jew, has cordial relations with Monsignor Pedro de Monterubio.”
    Felipe de Almazón frowned. “How is that possible?”
    “It hardly surprises me,” said Luis de Santángel, remembering the frail old churchman he had seen speaking with Pedro de Arbués on the day of his return from Rome. He asked Serero, “But why are you mentioning this?”
    “A priest in the monsignor’s office asked my friend for instruction. My friend has too many students.”
    “A priest?”
    “Not just any priest. The monsignor’s personal secretary. This man studied Hebrew in the seminary. And Jewish mysticism, which is not my specialty.”
    Felipe de Almazón shook his head. “We needn’t take more risks.”
    “This particular risk, I don’t think is so serious,” said the scribe.
    Both looked to Santángel for a decision. “To have a churchman in our midst,” the chancellor reflected. “Someone close to the monsignor, no less. It might bring a certain legitimacy to our group. To our pursuit. Pedro de Arbués would hesitate before pursuing the monsignor’s personal secretary. But we need more information.”

     
    Luis de Santángel spent two weeks discreetly inquiring after the priest’s background. Raimundo Díaz de Cáceres had studied at the University of Salamanca, a community of intellects famous for casting a wide net, encompassing the great thinkers of all faiths, in their pursuit of Truth. His teacher at Salamanca had been none other than Hernando de Talavera, a cleric renowned for his knowledge of Judaism and Islam. Many observers of the Church in Castile regarded Talavera as Tomás de Torquemada’s ideological adversary.
    Father Cáceres made his first appearance the week after Santángel consented. He wore not the habiliments of his calling, but a simple gray smock. His queries challenged; his manner bristled with perplexity. During those first meetings, he posed a number of questions about that most forbidden of topics, the Jewish understanding of Jesus Christ’s messianic mission.
    “Christ’s mission, Father Cáceres, is beyond our scope,” explained the scribe.
    “I understand,” conceded the priest in his reedy voice. “But what about the concept of the messiah in general? The divinity of the messiah. His purpose.”
    “Suppose Señor Serero were to explain his people’s position on this subject,” asked Felipe. “Suppose he were to defend that position to a Christian, and in a secret meeting, no less. It would amount to a capital crime.”
    “Forgive me,” said the priest. “I intend no disrespect.” He ran his hand over his bald pate.
    Serero nodded.
    Cáceres challenged him again. “What about His disciples? What does Judaism say about them? Were they liars?”
    “Please, Father,” Felipe protested.
    “I am not going to claim these subjects are never broached,” the scribe admitted. “But those texts—the most ancient of them, the most authoritative—don’t get circulated much.”
    “Why not?”
    “They could be seen as provocative. You know that, Father.”
    “All of them?” asked the priest.
    “Some of them,” said Serero.
    Cáceres pushed