Richard
Christopher
I
Nobody knew exactly where the giant had come from, or how he had become so tall. Children often cried to look at him. Grown men were terrified of his immense form, and would hasten in their steps if they saw him nearby, would look down to avoid meeting his eyes (which, it was said, were terrible to behold). When he could not see, of course, it was different. People glanced smiles at eachother as he bent to fit through a doorway or hit his head off an overhanging sign.
The giant did not know when he had become so much bigger than the rest of the people in the town. He could not be certain that he did not dwarf them when he arrived there many years ago. It was clear that when he looked down today they were very much distanced from him. Shorter, something less than him.
When he came to leave, nobody was there to wave him off. For a few days, of course, people were relieved that this monster no longer lived amongst them. They went about their work and their church going and their drinking without fear, and in time, they forgot altogether about this giant.
The giant had also forgotten who he was. He did not starve; his limbs were long enough to catch any deer. He was not killed; he was strong enough to fight off any wild animal. So there was no need for fasting to remind him of his own existence. He had much as was needed; no abundance, but never little enough to starve. Neither was he reminded of his existence by fear of death, as he was so tall and strong that he needed to fear nothing. And so he settled into a mechanical routine of hunting and resting, never too comfortable, but never in pain. He existed; but never with any cause to become conscious of it.
II
Many pieces of time moved by the giant while he acted out his existence. They seemed to stop moving for him one day; it was a longer day, longer than most in the year, and there seemed to be no night, no chance of rest, and no animals would come near him. It was on this strange day that the prince rode past where the giant had made his home. The prince and his horse moved ahead of a great army. The giant's eyes opened wide. The sight of the army was awesome, but it was not as overpowering as the reflection of the sun in the helmet and shield of this noble. The giant fell in love with the prince's power.
What joy was in his heart as the prince stopped his horse and turned to him. The prince looked at the giant; his eyes are looking into mine, thought the giant! How long since anybody has dared to do this! The giant thought: this prince is, indeed, a braver man than those I knew before in the town.
Perhaps it was that he had been so long away from the company of men, and had grown lonely. Perhaps there was actually something about this individual which made him seem so tall. The giant watched the noble, riding on his great horse, his robes washed in the wind, and saw a person who could look him in the eye; or more than that, could look down on him, could dominate him, could issue orders to him. How mighty the noble looked that day; how pleasing to the eye, how powerful. Here, thought the giant, is finally someone who I can be subject to. I no longer have to wonder alone, I can be in the service of this greater man. He can order me, perhaps teach me what crumbs of wisdom he has for me. The giant wished nothing better than to fight alongside him, to share in the glory of this warrior, to become great through standing in the light which shone from his master's polished armour.
When the prince asked the giant to fight at his side, the giant rejoiced and offered his services. Surely he, the giant, would now be fighting for the greatest, most powerful lord on this earth! What greater glory could existed than that of the prince? Who better could he serve!
III
The giant served the prince, and fought alongside him in battle. On behalf of the great power of the prince, the giant smashed all that lay before him.
The giant slept soundly until one night when camped the night before a battle, he heard the prince scream from his tent. Fearing that enemy assassins had made their way into the camp, he found his prince lying in his camp bed, his body glistening, this time not with golden armour, but with sweat. The prince crossed himself again and again.
It seemed that an old woman had found her way into the camp and cursed the prince in the name of the devil. The prince had shown such fear of the devil that he had entered a great fever and was screaming out as hallucinations passed before his eyes.
Who is this devil, thought the giant, who the prince can fear so much? And the giant was sad. The prince whose power he had so loved, the invincible, the all-powerful, was now just a old man writhing on his bed. An old man thinking himself a child, screaming for his mother. The giant realised he was no longer in love with this prince, if he ever was. The all-powerful lord he sought to follow was not here amongst the weak and wretched. So the giant left the Prince's camp, vowing to find the devil, and to serve him. This was his calling, for surely the devil was the most powerful lord who existed.
IV
He did not have to search far for the devil, as the devil knows who longs for him, and is prepared to meet them. The devil looked awesome, shining piercing, blinding light all around him, light which overpowered every colour and every thought. The giant no longer had to think; nothing more terrible could be seen in the world. This was surely the greatest lord that could be found, and the giant served him.
The giant served the devil for many years. The devil ordered him to move forward, and the giant did so. The devil ordered him to strike, and the giant did so. All these obstacles passed without so much as a thought. The giant did what he was told; even the prince whose power he had once loved was to be struck down, and the giant did what was asked, not with sadness, or gladness, but obedience.
V
The giant tore his path through life with the devil. The giant had no mind of what he had passed, so subsumed was he with the idea of the power of the devil, and the complete knowledge that nothing could stand in his way while he was in service of this great lord.
One day, at a crossroads, they stood before a monument. It was an image of a man hung on a cross, his head lulled as though admitting a final defeat. The giant was filled with revulsion at the image of this weak man, and was angered by the stupidity of those who worshipped it. He awaited the order to smash the monument, which he would carry out with great zeal, but no order came, as the devil had fled.
He chased after the devil as he retreated, but his view was now more sober. The man I have been serving is a coward, thought the giant, who flees before superstitious images.
The giant cried to the devil: I thought you strong, I thought you without fear! I wished to be in the service of the greatest lord, but what powerful lord runs from an image made of stone! But the devil would not respond. The devil would not walk in that direction. The devil knew that the one whose image hung there was stronger than him, and he would not approach it again, but would take another route.
The giant was sad, and left the service of the devil.
VI
The giant stumbled, as though drunk, tired and despairing, from town to town. While in the service of the devil, life had needed no tasting, as it had been as satisfactory as not to demand use of the senses. Now he tasted life again, and it tasted bitter and sour. He spat, but he could not rid himself of the taste. As he passed by people in the streets, demanding to know where he could find the Christ whose image hung on the cross, they fled, as they recognised him as the giant who had previously smashed their homes and slaughtered those who cowered within them. Thinking that the priests would know, the giant entered churches, grabbed the professed holy men by their throats, and ordered that they tell him where the most powerful lord was. But the priests could not utter a word to the giant, as they were so frightened.
V
The giant came to a river. Here, he thought, I can wash from my mouth this sour and painful taste. He thought: The water will wash away the taste of life, and leave such nothingness as I had been comforted by before. Here, at the height of his despair, he heard laughter. It was a strange laughter, as it did not seem to come from about him, but rather from within, as though he was laughing at himself, and at the state he found himself in. Finding it silly that one should hear voices from within, he turned to look at who might be laughing, and saw a hermit, sitting in a cave.
The hermit did not appear to be laughing, but his eyes glowed, and the giant was drawn to them.
The hermit saw that the giant was hungry, and offered him what little food he had, which the giant greedily fell upon, while the hermit smiled. You are hungry, the hermit said, that is good. You desire things once again. You desire to be filled, not to be emptied of life.
The giant was sad upon hearing these words. His desire to be filled, to find the source of power which would satisfy him had let him only to pain, to constant death of his dreams. He wished to strip himself of desire, and kill himself, but even that was a desire, for silence, for peace. Had the hermit found peace this side of the grave?
The hermit said he did not know if he had found peace, but if it was to be found, it was not to be found in silence, but in laughter, and not in surrendering, but in desiring.
The giant mocked the hermit: if this small man had desire, why was he here sitting in a cave, and not making his fortune in the money. But what the hermit desired was love. In the past he had lived in the love of his parents, and among his childhood friends, and later loved the warmth of beautiful women who lay with him. And it was a true love, the same love as he found now, among the fields and the trees and the water and his cave.
The giant did not understand the love which the hermit sought, he only sought a lord of great power who he could serve, and believed that lord to be Christ, who even the devil feared. The hermit smiled, because he knew that this Christ and love were the same thing.
The giant asked the hermit: Do you know where one can find Christ?
The hermit laughed and told the giant that he crossed the river many times each day.
VI
The giant was glad and sat by the river, waiting for Christ to pass by. But he only saw traders going to market, couples holding hands on their path over the river to find a place to make love, children paddling. When the sun fell, the giant was sad, for he had not seen Christ and offered to serve him. He went to the hermit and demanded to know why he had lied in saying that Christ crossed the river many times a day.
The hermit laughed and explained: Christ is a joker. We must allow God his games, after all, for if he had no love of fun, our lives would be much duller. No doubt, Christ has disguised himself.
The giant furrowed his brow. This was a strange lord, who disguised himself and played games. Yet if the devil was frightened of him, he must be powerful, and so the giant returned to his place by the river, and waited. He saw a merchant, and, thinking that, in his fine robes this may be Christ, he offered to carry him over the river. The merchant was extremely wary of the giant's offer, but he was vain, and worried that he would get his fine robes wet, so accepted. The giant carried the merchant across the river, and did not accept the merchant's offer of silver, thinking it may be a trick of Christ to see if the giant was greedy or not. The merchant, offering his thanks, carried on into the distance. The giant stood watching him as he disappeared, and returned, his legs struggling through the water. The giant cursed the river as it soaked him, the cold stinging water holding each leg back as he tried to move and then returned to sitting on the bank, waiting for Christ.
Seeing that the giant was sad, the hermit smiled, and told the giant that he would have to carry Christ over the river many times before he revealed his nature to him. Before the giant left, the hermit also told the giant to accept any money offered as thanks. Certainly, if a person had no money to offer, the giant should carry them anyway, as to carry people over the river is a service offered in kindness, not for money. And if the person had money, but did not wish to offer any, to think nothing of it, for some people need their money at this stage in their lives. But if a person offered money as thanks, the giant should take it, buy what food he needs, and give the rest to charity. If the giant did not eat and retain his strength, he would have trouble carrying himself across the river, let alone anybody else.
VII
The giant carried many people across the river. Some people accepted his offer out of fear, some out of necessity, others turned and ran simply upon seeing him. As time passed, people learned to trust this strange giant who helped them across the river. Old men visiting their grandchildren, beautiful women dressed for a dance, farmers on their way to market, they became used to his strong arms hoisting them up onto his broad shoulders, his slow, steady path across the river, his care in placing each person on the ground.
He became used to their weights and shapes, and when he held them, the physical balance within his body shifted. It was as though he grew or reshaped each time he placed someone on his shoulders. He heard their stories and they became a part of him. What did he have to give in return, he sometimes asked himself. They give him so much, confide all their sadnesses and chatter excitedly about their successes or hopes, and he takes them all, but gives nothing back.
VIII
One morning in March a child wished to cross the river. The giant raised the child onto his shoulder and began to wade into the water. As he crossed, the weight of the child he was carrying became heavier. With each step, the mass pressing on him became less and less bearable, and the giant reached out to grab the broken bough of a tree to lean against in order to support the weight.
Having reached the other side of the river, the giant collapsed onto his knees to look at the child. How can it be that a child could be so heavy? The child replied that he was Christ, and carried the burdens of the world.
The giant knew that he loved this child. However fragile the child was, he was the one who could carry the world. He would serve this child, even though a child has no need for ornamentation or fanfare. The child had passed by here before, but then he was a lady, then a farmer, then an old man. And each time, the weight had pressed down on the giant, and the giant took it as a part of him, as his own suffering and privilege. He would hold and love each person and carry them and keep their clothes dry because they were Christ. And in carrying them, he too would be Christ. When his arms lifted people onto his shoulders, they were Christ's arms, and when his legs crossed the river, they were Christ's legs, and when he heard them tell their stories, he heard through Christ's ears. In serving, in holding and carrying, in listening, the giant was growing, changing. Glimpsing wholeness- feeling it for a couple of fleeting seconds. Of course Christ the Lord would be a child. Who else but a child could play with the pieces and create a form of such beauty, then move the pieces again to another shape, and another. Only a child's imagination could give birth to endless millions of worlds.
The child smiled and left the giant, tired and breathless, sitting in the grass, his back aching.