The country became more and more uninviting, and it was almost impossible to avoid many discomforts. Simeon remembered the comfort of his palace in Jerusalem, and contemplated turning back. And yet the thought of the wise man who could help him to immortality proved too attractive. People came over the bare hills who told of the teacher at the other extreme of the desert, how He gathered at times all kinds of people round Him and spoke of the everlasting Kingdom of God. And so the swaying litter went on farther, and the next day reached the valley through dry rocky ravines, and found there a few olive and fig trees. People crowded round one of the fig trees; they were for the most part poor, sad-looking creatures, miserable outcasts wandering, homeless and loveless, here and there. Clothed in scanty rags, their forms bent, they turned their faces towards the tree, for there He stood and spoke.

"Be ye not sad nor cast down. You miss nothing of the world's attractions. Yours is the Father and His Kingdom. Trust in Him; you are His. You shall be made glad through love; things will be easier for you if you love than if you hate. And in every misfortune that comes upon you, keep a steadfast soul, and then you have nothing to lose."

Simeon clearly heard the strange words, and thought to himself: "Can this be He? No, a wise man does not surround himself with such a shabby, poverty-stricken crowd. And yet they say it is He." Simeon got out of his litter and drew his scimitar. Then he pressed forward amid the disagreeable smell of old clothes and of the perspiring crowd. Oh, how repulsive is the odour of the poor! The multitude shyly gave way to the brilliant figure, for never had its like been seen in the Master's neighbourhood. Jesus stood calmly under the fig tree and saw the stranger coming. He stood still three paces off Him, beat his head, placed his hand on his brow, like a king who greets another.

"Sir," said the stranger, and his voice was not sharp and shrill as when he gave his servants orders, but low and hoarse. "Sir, I have come a long way; I have sought you a long while."

Jesus held out His hand to him in silence.

Simeon was excited. He wanted to explain his object at once so as to return to Jerusalem without delay, but the words would not come. He stammered out; "Sir, I hear that you understand about eternal life. Therefore am I come to you. Tell me where it is to be found. What shall I do in order to possess eternal life?"

Jesus stepped forward a pace, looked earnestly at the man, and said: "If you desire to live, keep the commandments of Moses."

"Of Moses?" returned the stranger, surprised. "But I do. Although I am of pagan descent, in these matters I follow the people among whom I live. But that is not the point. They die. I want to live for ever."

Then said Jesus: "If you desire to live for ever, follow Him Who lives for ever. Love God above everything, and your neighbour as yourself."

"Oh, Master," said Simeon, "that is just what I strive to do. And yet I am afraid."

Whereupon Jesus said: "You are afraid because you ought to do it, and desire to do it, and yet do it not. You possess palaces in the town, fertile acres in the country, ships on the sea, laden with precious things from all quarters of the world. You possess a thousand slaves. Your stewards would fill many volumes if they wrote down all that you possess."

"Sir, how do you know everything?"

"My friend, your brilliant train spells wealth; but look at the people who follow Me. They have poor garments but glad souls, they have the Kingdom of God within them. If you are in earnest, you must give up all you possess."

"Give up all I possess?"

"You must give it up and become like these. Then come to Me, and I will lead you to everlasting life."

When Jesus had said that and more, the stranger cast down his head, and slowly stepped back. What? I must become like these lowly, beggarly people? must deliberately step out of my accustomed circle into this boundless misery? No, no man could do it. He returned to his suite in very low spirits.

Jesus looked after him thoughtfully with a kindly glance.

"Who is he?" the disciples asked. "He wears royal garments. We have never seen such silks. Is he a priest from the East? If he came in order to make us gifts, he has forgotten his intention."

Paying no heed to the jesting words, the Master said thoughtfully: "It is difficult to gain a rich man for blessedness. Men's wills are too weak. Their bodies are lapped in luxury, yet scorn of the soul leaves them a prey to fear. Yes, My friends, it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter our heaven."

The word was spoken more in sorrow than in anger. And then someone ventured to say: "Yes, if the commandments are too hard, there must be sin. Men are bound to transgress them."

Jesus looked at the trembler: "Why, then, am I come? Why, then, do I show you how light the burden is? Do you not see for yourselves how free a man is when he has thrown off great cares and desires? Nay, you will never see that till the grace of God is given you."

They scarcely heard what He said. The brilliant procession had attracted their attention, and as it moved off with its horses, camels, riders, Moors, and lovely women, they looked after it with longing eyes. A little old hunchbacked Israelite, who was cowering behind a block of stone, murmured with some malice: "Seems to me they'd rather go with the heathen than wait here for the grace of the Heavenly Father."

Simeon once more lay in the swaying litter and thought. He tried to reconcile his unaccomplished purpose with his conscience. This Prophet—he was a visionary. What could the Kingdom of God within us mean? Visionary! intended only to make people lazy and incapable. A doctrine for vagabonds and beggars! And so that was living for ever! So long as he lived he should believe himself to be right, and when he was dead, he could not know that he had been wrong. And then the social danger. The possessor not the owner of his own property? He must give it up, share it with the poor. Such equality of property or lack of property would prevent all progress, and plunge everything into mediocrity. No, that is not my salvation! Ah, well, this journey into the desert will be an advantage to me in one way: it will make me feel happier than ever in my comfortable house.

He took the opportunity of a last look at the place on which he now turned his back. Several, attracted by the brilliant cavalcade, had followed from afar. Three of the disciples had even come after him in order to set right a misunderstanding. They came up with the stranger at a spring which gushed forth from a rock, and grass grew round it. The Moors wished to prevent them coming nearer, but Simeon recognised that they were not dangerous, and let them approach him.

James, one of the disciples, said: "Great Lord, it is a pity. You are one of the few who have left our Master without accomplishing their purpose. It would not be quite so hard as you think. He Himself says that if a man only has a good will he is never lost. The will to live for ever is the thing."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Simeon. "His demands are quite impossible."

"Must everything be taken so literally?" said James. "The Master always puts the ideal high, and expresses it in lofty words, so that it may the better stay in the memory."

Simeon waved them aside with his gold-encircled hand. "To give up all I possess! To become horribly poor——?"

Then another disciple stepped forward, stood before him in a sad-coloured garment, crying: "Look at us. Have we given up everything? We never had much more than we have now, and what we had we have still. Our brother Thomas has only one coat because he is full-blooded; I have two coats because I easily feel cold. If I had poor legs the Master would allow me an ass like Thaddeus. Every one has what he needs. You need more than we do because you are accustomed to more. But you cannot use all that you have for yourself. And yet you need it for the many hundreds of men you employ, who work for the good of the country, and live by you. I say that your property belongs to you by right just as my second coat to me, and that you can quite well be His disciple."

"You chatter too much, Philip," said James reprovingly. "If a man makes a pilgrimage of repentance towards eternal life, he doesn't travel like the Emperor of the Indies, or if he does, he doesn't know what he wants. Believe me, noble sir, wealth is always dangerous, even for life. The best protection against envy, hate, and sudden attacks is poverty."

There was a third disciple, Matthew, with them, and he addressed himself not to the stranger, but to his comrades, and said: "Brothers, it must be clearly understood that he who desires the Kingdom of Heaven must give up everything that causes him unrest; otherwise he cannot be entirely with the Father. But you," turning to the great man from Jerusalem, "you do not wish to break with the world? Well, then, do one thing, love your neighbour. Keep your silken raiment, but clothe the naked. Keep your riding-horse, but give crutches to the lame. Keep your high position, but free your slaves. Only if you think what is brought you from the fields, the mines, the workshops is yours, then woe be to you!"

"I would willingly do one thing," said Simeon. "Good! then say to your slaves, 'You are free. If you will continue to serve me, I will treat you well. If you prefer to go your own way, take what you require of good clothing and mules.' Will you do that, stranger?"

"You fanatic!" shouted Simeon angrily. "What notions you have about men. They're not like that. Life's very different from that!"

"But life will be like that some day," said Matthew.

"He is a Messiah who destroys the Kingdom instead of building it," exclaimed Simeon, jumping into his litter and giving the sign to depart.

The procession moved on slowly, its glitter showing up against the dark rocks of the desert track. The disciples gazed after it in silence.

A little old man lay on the yellow sand. He was so grey and dwarfish that he looked like a mountain sprite. The old fellow was at home in the bare, big rocks. He loved the desert, for it is the home of great thoughts. He loved the desert where he hoped to find the entrance to Nirvana. Now when the disciples passed near him as they were returning to the Master, he pushed the upper part of his body out of the sand, and asked: "What did the man want to whom you were speaking?"

"He wanted to be able to live for ever."

"To live for ever!" exclaimed the old fellow in surprise. "And that is why the man drags himself across the desert. What extraordinary people there are! Now I could go any distance to find my Nirvana. I only desire eternal life for my enemies. It is many a day since people said I was a hundred years old. If you are men of wisdom, teach me, tell me what I must do to reach Nirvana?"

They were astonished. It was something like out of a fairy tale. A living creature who did not wish to live! But Matthew knew how to answer him.

"My friend, your desire is modest, but it can never be fulfilled. You will never be nothing. If you die, you lose only your body, not yourself. You will, perhaps, not live, but you will be just as the same as now: you are not living now, and yet you exist. Breathing and waiting is not living. Living is fulfilment, is love—is the Kingdom of Heaven."

"My Kingdom of Heaven is Nirvana," said the little old man, and buried himself again in the sand.

As they went along Matthew said: "He fears everlasting existence because he does not recognise a God. But he is not so far from us as the man who loves the world."

Simeon went on his way, and towards evening reached the oasis of Kaba. He ordered his people to encamp there for the night. The servants, porters, and animals formed the outer ring, the tent—in which he took his supper, stretched himself on his cushions, and let himself be fanned to sleep by the maidens—was in the centre. But he did not sleep well. He had bad dreams: his house in Jerusalem was burnt down, his ships were wrecked, faithless stewards broke open his chests. And amid all, always the cry, "Give it all up!" About midnight he awoke. And it was no longer a dream, but terrible reality. A muffled noise could be heard throughout the camp, dark forms with glittering weapons moved softly about, in the camp itself crawling figures moved softly here and there. A tall, dark man, accompanied by Bedouins, carrying torches and knives, stood in front of Simeon.

"Do not be alarmed, my princely friend!" he said to Simeon, who jumped up; but none could tell whether he spoke from arrogance or authority, kindly or in scorn. "It's true we are disturbing your night's repose, but, provided you give no trouble, we have no evil designs. Hand over all that you possess."

In the first confusion the wretched man thought he heard the Prophet speaking, but he soon noted the difference. The Prophet and His disciples gave up everything that they possessed. This man took everything that others possessed.

"I know you, proud citizen of Jerusalem. I am Barabbas, called the king of the desert. It is useless to resist. Three hundred men are at this moment keeping watch round your camp. We've settled matters with your servants and slaves; they are powerless."

It was clear to the poor rich man what the chief meant. His slaves were slain, he was menaced by a like fate. What had that disciple of the Prophet said? Wealth endangered life, and poverty protected it. If he had set his followers free, giving them what they needed, and wandered about in simple fashion on his own legs, the robber's knife would not now be pointed at his breast. In unrestrained rage he uttered a brutal curse: "Take whatever you can find, and do not mock me, you infamous beast of the desert!"

"Calmly, calmly, my dear sir," said the chief, while dusky men rolled up carpets, clothes, arms, jewels, and golden goblets, and threw them into big sacks. "See, we are helping you to pack up."

"Take the rubbish away," shouted Simeon, "and leave me in peace."

The chief, Barabbas, grinned. "I fancy, my friend, that you and I know each other too well for me to let you go back to Jerusalem. You would then have too great a desire to have me with you. You would send out the Romans to search for me, and bring me to the beautiful city. The desert is much more to my taste: life is pleasanter there. Now, tell me where the bags of coin such as a man like you always carries about with him are hidden. No? Then you may go to sleep."

He who went forth to seek eternal life is now in danger of losing mortal life. In terror of death, cold sweat on his brow, he began to haggle for his life with the desert king. He not only offered all that he had with him. The next caravans were bringing him rare spices and incense; bars of gold, diamonds, and pearls were coming in the Indian ships, and he would send all out to the desert, as well as beautiful women slaves, with jewels to deck their throats. Only he must be allowed to keep his bare life.

Grinning and wrinkling up his snub nose, Barabbas let it be understood that he was not to be won with women and promises—he was no longer young enough. Neither would he have any executioner dispatched in search of him—he was not old enough. And he had his weaknesses. He could not decide which would suit the noble citizen's slender, white neck best, metal or silk. He took a silken string from the pocket of his cloak, while two Bedouins roughly held Simeon.

Meanwhile, outside the camp, the second chief was packing the stolen treasure on the camels by torchlight. Whenever he stumbled over a dead body he muttered a curse, and when his work was finished he sought his comrade. Women in chains wept loudly, not so much on account of their imprisonment—they took that almost as a matter of course—but because their master was being murdered in the tent. So the second chief snatched a torch from a servant, hastened to the tent, and arrived just in the nick of time.

"Barabbas!" he exclaimed, taking hold of the murderer, "don't you remember what we determined? We only kill those who fight; we do not kill defenceless persons."

Barabbas removed his thin arms from his victim and in a tearful voice grumbled: "Dismas, you are dreadful. I'm old now, and am I to have no more pleasure?"

Dismas said meaningly: "If the old man does not keep his agreement, the troop will have its pleasure, and, for a change, swing him who likes to be called king of the desert."

That had the desired effect. Barabbas knew the band cared much more for Dismas than for himself, and he did not wish matters to come to a climax.

When day dawned a mule was led to Simeon. One of his slaves, with his wounded arm in a sling, was allowed him, and he carried some bread and his cloak, and led the beast. And so the citizen of Jerusalem returned to the town he had left a week before under such brilliant circumstances, a defeated and plundered man.

The affair attracted great attention in the city. Armed incursions were eagerly made into the desert between Jerusalem and the Jordan, where one evil deed after another was reported. Even the Rabbis and Pharisees preached a campaign to clear the rocks and sandy flats of the dangerous and destructive hordes by which they were infested. The famous band of the chiefs, Barabbas and Dismas—so it was said—were not the worst. Much more ominous were the vagrant crowds that gathered about the so-called Messiah from Nazareth, who, feeling himself safe in the desert, indulged in disorderly speeches and acts. So it was settled to send out a large company of soldiers, led by the violent Pharisee, Saul, a weaver who had left his calling out of zeal for the law, in order to free the land from the mob of robbers and heretics.

Now about this time Dismas, the old robber-chief, fell into deep contrition. His heart had never really been in his criminal calling. Murder was particularly hateful to him, and, so far as he was free to do so, he had always sought to avoid it. Now even plundering and robbing became hateful to him. In the night he had visions of the terrible Jehovah. He thought of John, the desert preacher, and considered it high time to repent. So one day he said to Barabbas:

"Do you know, comrade, there is just now a prince at the oasis of Silam who has with him immensely more wealth than that citizen of Jerusalem? I know his position and his people, and I know how to get at him. Shall we take this lord?"

"If you continue to be so useless, Dismas, you'll be flung to the vultures." Such were the terms in which Barabbas thanked his ally. It was decided that the attack should be made. Dismas led the band towards the oasis of Silam. Barabbas went with his steed decorated with gay-coloured feathers, an iron coronet on his head. For it was a prince whom he was to visit! Dismas encamped his men under a rocky precipice. And when at night time all rested in order to be fit for the attack on the princely train early in the morning, Dismas climbed the rocks and gave the signal. The Roman soldiery hidden behind the rocks cut down all who opposed them, and took the rest prisoners, Dismas and Barabbas among them. When the latter saw that he had been betrayed, he began to rage in his chains like a wild animal.

"What would you have brother?" said Dismas to Barabbas, who had often scorned him so bitterly. "Am I not a prisoner, too? Haven't you always preached that right lay with the stronger? So then the Romans are right this time. Once you betrayed me and forced me to join the plundering Bedouins, most excellent Barabbas, and now it's my turn. I've betrayed you to the arm of Rome. And we'll probably be impaled!" Then, as if that were a real delight, he brought his hand down cheerfully on his companion's shoulder so that his chains rattled. "Yes, my dearest brother, they will impale us!"

They were brought in gangs to Jerusalem, where they lay in prison for many long months awaiting death. On account of his self-surrender, Dismas had been granted his wish for solitary confinement. He desired, undisturbed, to take stock of his wasted life. A never-ending line of dark, bloody figures passed before him. But there was one patch of light amid the gloom. It had happened many years ago, but he had a very clear remembrance of that distant hour. A young mother with her child rode on an ass. The infant spread out his little arms and looked at him. But never in his life had human creature looked at him like that child had looked, with such a glance of ardent love.

If only once again, before he died, he could but see a beam of light like that.



CHAPTER XXII

When the people who had gathered round Jesus heard that Saul, the terrible weaver, was scouring the desert with a troop of police, they began to melt away. They feared unpleasant consequences. They fully recognised the right, but most of them were disinclined to suffer persecution for that right. They must return to their domestic duties, to their families, industries, and commerce, and, so far as was possible, live according to the Master's teaching. They left Him because it seemed to them that His cause was falling. In the end there were just a few faithful ones who stayed with Him, and even some of them were in hopes that He would reveal the power of the Messiah. But they all urged Him to repair to some other neighbourhood. Jesus was not afraid of having to render an account of Himself to His adversaries in Jerusalem, but the time had not yet come, the work was not yet finished. He knew that He could never retrace His steps, for the more incontestable His justification was, the more dangerous it would seem to them. With His now dwindled troop of followers He left the desert to revisit once again His native Galilee.

But here His opponents were no better than before; houses were closed as He approached, the people got out of His way when He began to speak. Only Mary, with all a mother's simple faith, said; "Ah, you have come at last, my son! Now stay, with me!"

There was, however, no place for Him in the house. A strange apprentice from Jericho was established in the workshop. He worked at the wood with the hatchet and saw that Jesus had once handled; sat by the hearth and at the table where Jesus had once sat; slept in the bed on which Jesus had once reposed. But it did not seem that he enjoyed the same pleasant dreams for he groaned and tossed about, and when he awakened was ill-pleased at having to continue the same work which he had ill-humouredly laid aside the evening before. How often did Mary look at him in silence, and think of the difference between him and her Jesus. And she saw how the man carelessly ate his meals, and went to his bed each day, while her son was perhaps perishing in a strange land, and had no stone whereon to lay His head.

And now Jesus was once again with her. "Mother," He said to Mary, "don't speak impatiently to Aaron. He is poor, discontented, and sullen; he has found little kindness in men and without exactly knowing it, thirsts for kindness. When you would bring Me water in the morning to wash with, take it to him. When you would prepare dinner for Me, prepare it for him. When you would bless Me in the evening, bless him. Love may perhaps do what words cannot. Everything that you think to do for Me in My absence, do for him."

"And you—you will have nothing more from me?"

"Mother, I want everything from you. I am always with you. You can be good to Me in showing kindness to every poor creature. I must lead men by stern measures, be you gentle. I must burn the ulcers from out the dead flesh, you shall heal the wounds. I must be the salt, be you the oil."

How happy she was when He spoke to her like that. For that was her life—to be kind, to help, wherever she could. And here was her son consecrating such deeds of kindness till they became a covenant between her and Him, a bond of memory for mother and child when parted from each other. Now that He had appealed to her love, she did not feel so lonely; she felt once more at one with Him, and had a sort of presentiment that in future times her bleeding mother's heart would be satisfied beyond measure.

Once again Jesus went through His native land to see if the seed of His teaching had sprung up anywhere. But the earth was barren. He was not so much troubled by the passionate enmity with which many regarded Him, or the angry murmurings against Him and His word, as by indolence of mind, by obstinate, stupid adherence to commonplace inanities, by entire lack of perception, by indifference towards spiritual life. At first the novelty and strangeness of His appearance had compelled attention, but that was over. Whether the Prophet was old or new, it was all one to them. One was just like another, they declared, and they remained indifferent. "The hot and the cold," Jesus exclaimed one day, "I can accept, but those who are lukewarm I cast from Me. Had I preached in heathen lands, or in the ruined seaports of Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented in sackcloth and ashes. Had I taught in Sodom and Gomorrah, those towns would still be standing. But these places here in Galilee are sunk in a quagmire of shame; they scorn their Prophet. When the day of reckoning comes, it will go worse with this land than with those towns. My poor Bethsaida, and thou, fair Magdala! And thou, Capernaum the beautiful! How I loved you, My people, how highly did I honour you; I desired to lift you to Heaven. And now you sink in the abyss. Pray to him, your Mammon, in the days of your need; there will be no other consolation for you. Carouse, laugh, and be cruel to-day; to-morrow you will be hungry and you will groan: Ah, we have delayed too long! Believe me a day will come when you fain would justify your lives to Me, crying: 'Lord, we would willingly have given you food, drink, and lodging, but you did not come to us.' But I did come to you. I came in the starving, the thirsty, the homeless, only you would not recognise Me. I will not accuse you to the Heavenly Father, but Moses, whose commandments you have broken, will accuse you. And when you appeal to the Father, He will say: 'I know you not.'"

The disciples trembled and were terrified in mind and soul when He spoke those angry words. But they were not surprised, for the people had sunken very low.

He woke His comrades in one of the next nights and said: "Get up and let the others sleep; they will not go with us, our way is too hard. Enemies will be on us. Whoever of you fears, let him lie down again." Many did lie down again, and those who went with the Master numbered twelve.

They wandered over the heights of Cana, over the mountains of Gischala till close on midnight, and then again till sundown. The disciples knew not whither they were going; it was enough that they were with Him. On the way they found many of the same mind, and also some who invited the Master to their houses for a jest, in order to be able to say: I am acquainted with Him. Men of good position were among those who listened to His words with the greatest attention, and then haggled with Him to see if the Kingdom of Heaven could not be had at a cheaper price than the world. He always answered: "What use is the world to you if you have no soul! Herein alone is the secret of salvation; a man must find his soul and preserve it, and raise it to the Father." Or, as He put it differently: "God is to be found in the spirit!"

And when the stranger audience asked what "in the spirit" meant, the apostles explained: "He means spiritual life. He would not have man live his life merely in the flesh; man's real self. He teaches, is a spiritual reality, and the more a man works spiritually and lives in ideas which are not of the earth, the nearer he comes to God, who is wholly spirit."

"Then," said they, "men learned in the law are nearer to God than the workers in the field." To which John replied: "A man learned in the law who depends only on the letter is far from the spirit. The labourer who does not draw a profit from the land but thinks and imagines how to improve it, is near the spirit."

On the road between Caedasa and Tyre is a farm. When its owner heard that the Prophet was in the neighbourhood, he sent out people to find Him and invite Him to go to the farm where He would be safe from the snares of the Pharisees. But the owner was himself a Pharisee and he intended to examine Jesus, perhaps to tempt Him to betray Himself and then deliver Him over to the government. Jesus told the messenger that He would gladly accept the hospitality if He might bring his companions with Him. That was not in the Pharisee's plan, first, because of the quantity of food and drink so many persons would need; and second, because under such protection it would be difficult to lay hands on the demagogue. But in order to get the one, there was nothing for it but to include the others. They were respectfully received and entertained. The host testified to his joy at entertaining under his roof the "Saviour of Judaea," and was delighted with the Master's principles. He gave a great banquet in His honour with the choicest viands and costliest drinks to which the disciples, who were somewhat hungry and thirsty, heartily did justice, while the Master, who never spoiled a glad hour, cheerfully did the same. When tongues were loosened, the host wanted straightway to begin with artful allusions and questions, but his guest was a match for him.

Jesus had observed that, while they were feeding so luxuriously in the hall, needy folk were harshly turned away in the courtyard, to slink off hungry and embittered. So He suddenly said that good stories suited good wine, and He would tell one. "That is delightful!" exclaimed the host. And Jesus related the following:

"There was once a rich man who wore the most costly garments, and enjoyed the most luxurious food and drink, and lived in complete contentment. One day there came to his door a sick, half-starved man, who begged for a few of the crumbs that fell from the table. The proud man was wrathful that the miserable wretch should dare to disturb his pleasure, and let loose his hounds. But instead of worrying the man, the dogs licked his ulcers, and he crawled ashamed into a hole. On the very day on which the wretched creature died, death came also to the rich man, casting his well-fed body into the grave and his soul into hell. And there his wretched soul endured most horrible torture, gnawing hunger and parching thirst, and the pain was increased when the dead man looked into Paradise and saw there the man he had sent away despised from his door sitting by Abraham. He saw how ripe fruits grew there, and clear springs gushed forth. Then he called up, 'Father Abraham. I implore you, tell the man sitting by you to dip his finger-tips into the water and cool my tongue, for I suffer unbearable torture.' To which Abraham answered, 'No, my son, that cannot be. You received all that was good on earth and forgot the poor, now he forgets you. There is no longer any connection between him and you.' Then the man in hell whimpered, 'Woe! woe! woe! Let my five brothers who still dwell on earth know that they must be merciful to the poor, so that they may not be in my case. And Abraham said: 'They have the prophets on earth who tell them that every day.' Then the man whined: 'Oh, Father Abraham, they do not listen to the prophets. If only you would make one of the dead live again, that he might tell them how the unmerciful are punished, then they would believe. And Abraham: 'If they do not believe the living, how should they believe the dead?"

During the Master's recital, the host several times stretched forth his hand to his glass, but each time drew it back again. He had not a word to say, and the desire to lay snares for the Prophet had gone. He stole unnoticed from the hall, went down to his steward, and ordered him henceforth never to send a needy man from the door unrefreshed.

One of his friends who was at the banquet was immensely pleased that this betrayer of the people should have so exposed himself. "You understood? The story was nothing but an attack on the possessors of property."

"Let that be," said the host, and turned away. Then he went and furnished the Prophet and His little band with provisions, gave Him directions for His journey, and pointed out how He could best avoid pursuers. He looked after them for a long time. "They have prophets on earth and do not heed them." He would like to accompany this prophet. His little soul had been caught by Him he had wished to catch.

Things did not go so well with our fugitive in other places. An evil slander about the Baptist was spread abroad—that he was a glutton and a wine-bibber! Jesus heard of it, and said: "John the Baptist fasted. They said of him that he was possessed by a demon. It is neither eating nor fasting that they object to in the prophets; it is the truth which they speak."

Then they came to villages and farms where they wished to rest, but none would give them shelter. This angered the Master. The dust on the ground was not worthy to remain sticking to the feet of those who came to bring the Kingdom of God. The heartless would be thrust aside! But anger was turned into pitiful love. When a contrite man approached Him He raised him up with both arms, encouraged him, taught him to be kind, showed him the joy of life, and how to penetrate the sacred recesses of his own being—self-examination.

Self-examination! That is the everlasting guide Jesus gave to all who sought God.



CHAPTER XXIII

At last Jesus and His followers reached the sea. When it lay before them in its immensity, and the white-winged ships flew over the blue surface; when they saw in the far distance the line drawn between sky and water, and the firmament rising behind so darkly mysterious, their courage was renewed, and Simon proposed that they should sail across to the cheerful Greeks and the strong Romans.

"Why not to the savage Gauls and the terrible Germans?" exclaimed Bartholomew, with some ill-temper at such an adventurous spirit.

"Ever since I was a boy I longed to see Rome," said Simon.

Jesus replied: "Seek your strength in your native land. Here in the land of the prophets grows the tree among the branches of which will dwell the birds of heaven. Then the winds will come and carry the seeds out into the whole world."

The disciples who had not hitherto travelled much, found a new world in the harbours of Tyre and Sidon, a world of folk and wares from every quarter of the earth, strange people and strange customs. They had never before seen men work with such industry in the warehouses, on the wharves, on the ships; yet others gave themselves up to continual idleness, trotting half-naked along the beach, begging with loud pertinacity in the harbour, or shamelessly basking in the sun. Look! the lepers are limping about, complacently exhibiting their sores. One of the disciples looked questioningly at the Master, wondering if He would heal them? Then, perhaps, they would believe in Him.

"You know quite well," He said reprovingly, "they would fain be healed and then believe, whereas I say they must believe in order to be healed."

There were also to be seen in those towns nobles and kings from all lands surrounded by dazzling brilliance and gay trains; as others here haggled for spices, silks and furs, so they haggled for dignity and honour. And there were wise and learned men from among all peoples; they made speeches, and talked in the public places in praise of their native prophets and gods. The Hindoo praised his Brahma, the Magian shouted about sacred fire, the Semite spoke zealously for his Jehovah, the Egyptian sang the praises of his Osiris, the Greek extolled his Zeus, the Roman called on his Jupiter, and the German spoke in hoarse tones of his Wotan. Magicians and astrologers were among them, and they boasted of their art and knowledge. Naked saints stood on blocks of stone, flies and wasps buzzing round them, and still as statues they endured torments for the glory of their gods. The disciples of Jesus saw and heard all this in astonishment, and were terrified to find there were so many gods. When they were alone together with the Master in a cedar-grove near Sidon, one of them who had been deeply wrapt in thought said: "An idea has just occurred to me. Whether it be Brahma the reposeful, or Osiris the shining, or Jehovah the wrathful, or Zeus the loving, or Jupiter the struggling, or Wotan the conqueror, or our God the Father—it occurs to me that it all comes to the same in the end."

They were alarmed at this bold speech, and looked at the Master expecting an angry reproof. Jesus was silent for a while, then said calmly: "Do good to those who hate you."

They scarcely understood that with these words He marked the incredible difference between His teaching and all other doctrines.

They were still speaking when a young man with a beardless face and insolent expression came riding by on a tall steed. When he saw the group of Nazarenes he reined in his horse; it would scarcely stop, stamped with its legs on the ground, and threw its head snorting into the air.

"Isn't this the man with the Kingdom of Heaven?" asked the rider contemptuously.

James came forward quickly. "Sir, stop your mocking. How do you know that you will never need it?"

"I?" said the arrogant cavalier. "I need a Kingdom of Heaven that is not to be seen, heard, or understood!"

"But felt, sir!"

"Then that is He," exclaimed the horseman, pointing to Jesus. "No, Nazarenes, I do not believe in your Heavenly Kingdom."

To which Jesus replied; "Perhaps you will believe in My empty tomb."

"We will see," said the cavalier, putting spurs to his horse so that it reared, and galloped off. Soon all that the disciples saw was a cloud of dust. Matthew looked searchingly at his comrades. "Did you recognise him? Wasn't it Saul, the dread weaver? They were saying in the town yesterday that he was coming with a legion of soldiers to arrest the Nazarenes."

Then they urged in terror; "Master, let us flee."

He was not accustomed to flee before zealous Pharisees, but there was another reason for removing his innocent disciples from the atmosphere of these big cities. Simon was always suggesting that it would be no bad thing to spend the coming Passover on the Tiber, for he felt less afraid of the heathens in Rome than of the Jews in Jerusalem. He had no idea of what was before them.

"Not in Rome," said Jesus, "but rather in Jerusalem will we eat the Paschal lamb."

Soon after they wandered forth and left the noisy seaport behind them. As the roads became more and more unsafe, they climbed the rocks and took the way across the mountains.

The gods came down from high Olympus, the Law came down from Sinai, Light came down from Lebanon. For it was at Lebanon that the great revelation came, which my shrinking soul is now to witness.



CHAPTER XXIV

The following incident took place during the journey among the mountains of Lebanon. One day they were resting under an old weather-beaten cedar. The rain trickled through the bristling bush of needles from one branch to another on to the hats under the broad brims of which the men cowered, their legs drawn up under them, their arms crossed over their chests. Tired and somewhat out of humour, they looked out into the damp mist against which the near summits and masses of rock stood out. The hair and beards of the older men had turned grey, and even the faces of the younger seemed to have aged. For their hardships had been great. But the glow in their eyes was not quenched. They had laid aside their long staffs; the sacks which some carried on their backs were wrinkled and empty. A little way off was a tree-trunk, so big that three men could hardly have encompassed it; the bark was white and rough, so that it seemed as if spirits had carved mysterious signs thereon in pure silver. Jesus, a little apart from His disciples, was resting under this tree. He was, as usual, without a hat, and His abundant nut-brown hair fell over His shoulders. His indescribably beautiful face was paler than formerly. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed His eyes.

The disciples thought He slept, and in order not to wake Him they looked at one another and spoke in whispers. Their hearts were full of the impressions of their late experiences. They thought of the persecution in their native land, the attractiveness of the big world, and their ignorance of the future. Many of them during this gloomy rest-time thought of their former lives. Who is managing my boat? Who tends my fruit-trees? Who works in my workshop? Who sits in the profitable toll-house? Who is providing for my wife, my children? There had been a triumphant progress through the land and then a flight. Men had not recognised the Master. If He would only say distinctly and clearly who He was! Meanwhile the outlook was desperate. As if they had run after a demagogue, a traitor, an anti-Jew! How could an anti-Jew be King of the Jews? If He would only say who He was!

Snow lay on the mountains. The ice-wastes stretched down from the heights of Hermon. If our travellers looked up to their summits they saw the wild ruggedness of their covering; if they looked downwards they saw abysses in which the water thundered. An eagle flew through the solitude and vultures screamed in the storm-beaten cedars. The men from the fertile plains of the Galilean Lake had never seen such wild nature. Simon was so enchanted that he wanted to build huts there for himself, his comrades, and the Prophet. The other disciples shuddered, and would gladly have persuaded the Master to return. He pointed to the high mountains, and said: "What frightens you, My children? When the races of men are becoming satiated and stupid, such wildness will refresh them."

Simon and John nodded in agreement, but the others, as often was the case, did not understand what He—who spoke for all time—said.

They wrapped themselves more closely in their cloaks, climbed up to where there was no path, and still went on their way. The Master walked in front and they followed Him through briars, and over stones; it never came into their heads that He could miss the way. At length, amid the bare rocks standing high above the cedar tops, they had to rest again. Some of them, especially the young John, were almost exhausted. Matthew dipped into his sack and drew forth a small crust of bread, showed it to his companions, and said softly, so that the Master, who was sitting on a stone higher up, might not hear: "That is all; if we do not soon light upon some human dwelling we must perish."

Then Simon said: "I rely on Him Who has so often fed His people in the desert."

"Words won't cure our hunger to-day," remarked Andrew, and was frightened at his own temerity. Then Bartholomew put his hand on Matthew's arm and said: "Brother, give that bread to the Master."

"Do you think I'm knave enough to eat it myself?" blazed up Matthew. He got up, went to the Master, and gave Him the bread.

"Have you already eaten?" He asked.

"Master, we are all satisfied."

Jesus looked at him searchingly, and took the bread.

Just at that moment a cry of delight broke from the men. The mist had suddenly lifted; they could see far out into the sunny world. And beneath them lay the blue, still plains, stretching away until they cut the sky. Far off in the sky were clouds shining like the golden pinnacles of temples. Along the shore lay a chain of villages, and then the sea, studded with sails. The view was so extensive and so bright that they could not but rejoice.

"From over there beyond the water came the heathens," said Matthew.

"And over there will the Christians go," added Simon.

"Who are the Christians?" asked Bartholomew.

"The adherents of the Anointed."

"They will go forth and destroy the Romans," said James.

"Ssh!" they whispered, and laid their fingers on their lips. "He does not like such talk."

He did not seem to have heard them. He had risen and was looking out in silence. Then He turned to one and another to read in their faces how their spirits stood, whether they had lost heart or whether their courage was strengthened by the sight of the splendours of God by which they saw themselves surrounded. Simon had become very thoughtful. He pondered on the Master's words and on the miracle they had wrought in him. Of all the wisdom that he had ever heard, none was so lofty and clear as this divine teaching. It created a heaven which had not existed formerly. And yet! why was one still so weak? He had turned sidewards and thoughtfully nodded his head.

"What trouble one has with his own people!" he murmured. James laughed and said: "With your own people? Who are they? I see only one of your own people, and that is you yourself."

"That's just the one who troubles me," said Simon. "For, you know, the rascal is timid. I can't forget that. The suddenness overwhelms him. 'Twas so for weeks down in Capernaum whenever the soldiers came near us, and in Sidon when that weaver suddenly appeared. Oh, my friend and brother! If it is a question of always sharing want and disgrace with Him, I am ready, I have courage for that. But when I've to stand in absolute danger, my heart fails me. Can such a one be fit to go with the Master?"

"We are fishermen, not heroes," assented James. "I do not know which needs more courage, a life of hardship or a swift death."

"I must confess one thing to you, brothers," interposed Andrew. "I am not clever—but I'm not satisfied. Can anyone tell me what will become of us?"

Simon's attention was diverted. Brother Philip came up and plucked him by the sleeve. He gave him a piece of bread. Simon took it in order to give it to Matthew.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Philip gave it me, but I'm not wanting it."

"But," said Matthew, "it is the piece of bread I just gave the Master."

The piece of bread went round the circle, from Matthew to the Master, from Him to John, then on from one to the other until it returned to Matthew, When they were amazed to find that no one needed the bread, the Master smiled and said: "Now, you like to see miracles. Here is one. Twelve men fed with one piece of bread."

"The bread did not do that, Lord. The word did that."

"No, friends; love did it."

Single drops fell from the trees, others hung like long needles and sparkled. Just as the sea lay spread out below, so the summits of the mountains were now revealed, the snow-peaks, and the pinnacles of rock, while the ice-fields were visible until near midnight. The deep stillness and the softness in the air made the men dreamy. Some were inclined to sleep. Others thought of what the future might have in store for them, and thinking thereon suffered themselves to sink, untroubling, into the will of God.

All at once Jesus raised His head a little, and said softly so that those nearest Him heard it: "You hear people talk about Me although they are silent in My presence. What do they say?"

The disciples were alarmed at the sudden question, and said: "People say all kinds of things."

"What do they say about Me? Whom do they say I am?"

Then one answered: "They all take you for some one different. They prefer to believe in the most unlikely things."

But as he continued to look questioningly at them, they became communicative and told: "One says that you are the prophet Jeremiah; another that you are Elijah of whom they know that he was taken up to heaven in a fiery chariot. Or they say you are John the Baptist whom Herod caused to be murdered."

Then Jesus lifted His head still higher and said: "People say that, do they? But you, now? Who do you think I am?"

That came like a thunderbolt. They were all silent. Surely He could see that they had followed Him, and knew why. Could He not see into their thoughts? Had He suddenly begun to doubt their faith in Him? Or had He lost faith in Himself? It is all so mysterious and terrifying. As they were silent He went on to say:

"You attached yourselves to Me in innocent trustfulness, like men who spread their cloaks at My feet, and paid Me the honours of the Messiah. When I announced the Kingdom of God you were with Me. And when some left Me because My way became dangerous, and My person contemned, you stayed with Me, and when My words were not fulfilled as you expected, leading not to worldly power but to humiliation, you still stayed with Me, followed Me into exile among the heathen, and into the desert hills. Who am I, then, that you remain faithful to Me?"

They were so moved that no one was able to utter a word. Jesus continued:

"I shall go down again to Galilee, but I shall find there no stone on which to rest My head in peace. All who are with Me will be persecuted for My sake. I shall go along the Jordan to Judaea, and up to Jerusalem, where My most powerful enemies are. I shall confront them and pronounce judgment on them. My words will pierce them, but My flesh will be in their power. I shall suffer shame and disgrace and a contemptible death. That will happen in a short time. Will you still stay with Me? Whence is your trust derived? Who do you think I am?"

Simon jumped up from the ground, and exclaimed loudly and clearly: "You are Jesus the Christ! You are the Son of the living God!"

* * * * * *

Solemnly it sounded forth to all eternity: Jesus Christ, the Son of God!

He stood up straight. Was there not a light round His head? Did not the sky grow bright? The men's eyes were dazzled so that they were obliged to shade them with their hands in order not to be blinded. A sound came out of the light, a voice was heard: "He is My Son! He is My beloved Son!" They were beside themselves; their bodies were lifeless, for their souls were in the heights. Then Jesus came down to them out of the light. His countenance had a strange look; something extraordinary had passed over Him. With outstretched arms He came slowly towards the disciples: "Simon! Did you say that of yourself? It was surely an inspiration from above. Such a faith is the foundation of the Kingdom of God; henceforth, then, you shall be named Peter, the rock. I will found My community upon you, and what you do on earth in My name will hold good in heaven above."

Simon looked round him. "What?" he thought in the secret recesses of his heart, "am I raised above the others? Are none of the brothers equal to me? That is because I am humble." Jesus turned to them all, and said: "Prepare yourselves, be strong; evil times are approaching. They will kill Me."

As He said that, Simon Peter grasped His arm with both his hands, and exclaimed passionately: "In the name of God, Master, that shall not happen."

Upon which Jesus said quickly and severely: "Get behind me, Satan!"

They looked round them. What a sudden change! For whom were the hard words meant? Simon knew; he went down and hid himself behind the young cedars. There he wept and shook with grief.

"John, He hates me!" muttered the disciple, and hid his face in his young companion's gown, for John had gone to comfort him. "John! It was my pride. He sees our thoughts. He hates me!"

"No, Simon, He does not hate you; He loves you. Think of what He said to you just before. That about the rock. You know what Jesus is. You know how He has to pour cold water so that the fire of love may not consume Him. And you must have touched on something that He Himself finds difficult. I'm sure of it. I believe that He is suffering something that we know nothing about. It is as though He saw it was the Father's will that He should suffer and die. He is young, He feels dismayed, and then you come and make the struggle harder for Him. Stand up, brother; we must be strong and cheerful and a support to Him."

And when they gathered together, prepared for further journeying, Jesus looked round the circle of His faithful adherents, and said, with solemn seriousness: "In a short time you will see Me no more. I go to the Father. I build my Kingdom upon your faith, firm as rock, and give you all the keys of heaven. With God, heaven and earth are one, and everything you do on earth is also done in heaven."

That is what happened on one of the heights of Lebanon when Jesus rested there with His disciples.

And then He went again to His native place, not to stay there, but to see it once more. After days of hardships which they scarcely felt, and of want which they never perceived, they came down into the fertile plains, and the soft air was filled with scent of roses and of almond blossoms. They found themselves once again in their native land, where they were treated with such contempt that they had to avoid the high roads and take the side paths. When they were passing through a ravine near Nazareth, they stopped under the scanty shade of some olive trees. They were tired, and lay down under the trees. Jesus went on a little farther, where He could obtain a view of the place. He sat down on a stone, leaned His head on His hand, and looked thoughtfully out over the country. Something strange and hostile seemed to pervade it. But He had not come in anger. Something else remained to be done. It was clear to Him that He Himself must be the pledge of the truth of His good tidings.

A woman came toiling over the stones. It was His mother. She had heard how He had come down from the mountains with His disciples, and thought she would go through the ravine. Now she stood before Him. Her face, grown thin with grief, was in the shade, since to protect herself from the sun she had thrown her long upper garment over her head. A tress of her dark hair fell over one cheek; she pushed it back with one finger, but it always fell down again. She looked shyly at her son, who was resting on a stone. She hesitated to speak to Him. She advanced a step nearer, and as if nothing had ever separated them, said; "Your house is quite near, my child. Why rest here in such discomfort?"

He looked at her calmly. Then he answered: "Woman, I would be alone."

She gently answered: "I am quite alone now in the house."

"Where are our relations?"

"They wished to fetch you home, and have been away for weeks in search of you."

Jesus pointed with a motion of His hand to His sleeping disciples: "They did not seek Me for weeks, they found Me the first day."

As if she wished to prevent Him complaining again that His kinsmen did not understand Him, His mother said: "People have long been annoyed that work was no longer done in our workshop, and so they go to a new one which has been set up in our street."

"Where is Aaron, the apprentice?"

She replied: "It is not surprising that no one will stay if the children of the house depart."

He spoke excitedly: "I tell you, woman, spare Me your reproaches and domestic cares. I have something else to do."

Then she turned to the rocky wall to hide her sobs. After a while she said softly: "How can you be so cruel to your mother! It's not for myself I complain; you may well believe. All is over for me in this world. But you! You bring misfortune on the whole family, and will yourself destroy everything. By your departed father, by your unhappy mother, I implore you to let the faith of your fathers alone. I know you mean well, but others do not understand that, and nothing you do will avail. Let people be happy in their own way. If formerly they went to Abraham, they will continue to find their way to him without your help. Don't interfere with the Rabbis; that never pays. Think of John the Baptist! Every one is saying that they are lying in wait for you. Oh, my beloved child, they will disgrace you, and kill you!" She clutched the rock convulsively with her fingers, and could say no more for bitter weeping.

Jesus turned His head to her, and looked at her. And when her whole body shook with sobs, He rose and went to her. He took her head in both His hands and drew it towards Him.

"Mother! mother!—mother!" His voice was dull and broken: "You think I do not love you. I am sometimes obliged to be thus harsh, for everything is against Me, even My own kith and kin. But I must fulfil the will of the Heavenly Father. Dry your tears; see, I love you, more than any human heart can understand. Because the mother suffers double what the child suffers, so is your pain greater than that of Him who must sacrifice Himself for many. Mother! Sit down on this stone so that I may once again lay My head in your lap. It is My last rest."

So He laid His head on her knees, and she stroked His long hair tenderly. She was so happy, in the midst of her grief, so absolutely happy, that He should lie on her breast as He did when a child.

But He went on, speaking gently and softly; "I have preached to the people in vain about faith in Me. I need not preach to you, for a mother believes in her child. They will all testify against Me. Mother, do not believe them. Believe your child. And when the hour comes for Me to appear with outstretched arms, not on earth and not in heaven, believe then in your child. Be sure then that your carpenter has built the Kingdom of God. No, mother, do not weep; look up with bright eyes. Your day will be everlasting. The poor, those forsaken by every heaven, will pour out their woes to you, the blessed, the rich in grace! All the races of the earth will praise you!" He kissed her hair, He kissed her eyes, and sobbed Himself. "And now go, mother. My friends are waking. They must not see Me cast down."

He arose from this sweet rest. The disciples raised their heads one after another.

"Did you get some rest, Master?" asked Simon.

He answered: "Better rest than you had."

A messenger who had been sent out returned with a basket, and they paid him with a little gold ring, the last to be found on the fingers of the wanderers. They ate, and rejoiced over God's beautiful world and its gifts, and then prepared for further wanderings, Whither? Towards the metropolis.

Mary stood behind the rocks and gazed after Him as long as He was visible in the haze of the Galilean sun.



CHAPTER XXV

And so they made their way towards Jerusalem for the celebration of the Passover. Long ago Moses had delivered the Jews from bondage in Egypt, and led them back to their native land. In grateful remembrance many thousands assembled every year at Jerusalem at the time of the first full moon of spring, made a pilgrimage to the Temple, and, according to the ancient custom, ate of the Paschal lamb, with bitter herbs, and bread made without yeast, as once they ate manna in the wilderness. At such an assembly there was of course much commerce and show. The execution of criminals took place at that time, so that people were sure of one terrible spectacle in accordance with the words of the Rabbis in the Temple who said; He who breaks the Law shall be punished according to the Law.

"I should like to see such a thing once," said the disciple Thaddeus to his comrades as they went along. "I mean such a punishment."

"You'll easily find an opportunity in Jerusalem," replied Andrew; and added with light mockery, "to see criminals impaled is the correct merry-making for poor men. It costs nothing. And yet I do not know a costlier pleasure."

"How is the impaling done?" Thaddeus wanted to know.

"That's easily described," Matthew informed them. "Think of an upright post planted in the earth and a cross-beam near the top. The poor sinner is bound naked to it, his arms stretched out. When he has hung there in the people's eyes for a while, they break his legs with a club. For very serious crimes they sometimes fasten the limbs to the post with iron nails."

Thaddeus turned aside in horror. "May it never be my lot to look on at such a thing."

"Do not imagine that such talk is a jest," said another. "Every one implores God that such a doom may never befall any of his relations or friends. We are all poor sinners. When our Master establishes His Kingdom this horrible mode of death will be abolished. Don't you think so?"

"Then all modes of death will be abolished," said Simon Peter. "Are you asleep when He speaks of eternal life?"

"But He says Himself that they will slay Him."

"That they wish to slay Him He means. Just wait till He once shows them His power!"

So they often talked together, half in pleasantry, half in simplicity, but always behind the Master's back.

A change had come over Jesus since the events on the high mountain. It was as if He had now become quite clear about His divine call, as if He had only now fully realised that He was God's messenger, the Son of the Heavenly Father, summoned from eternity to go down to earth to awake men and save them for a life of bliss with God. He felt that the power of God had been given Him to judge souls. The devils fled before Him, He was subject to no human power. He broke with the history of His degraded people; He annulled the ancient writings, falsified by priests and learned men. He recognised that in His unity with the Heavenly Father and Eternal God, He was Lord of all power in heaven and on earth.

So it was with Him since that hour of light on the mountain. But the knowledge of all this made Him still more humble as a man on whom such an immense burden had been laid, and still more loving towards those who were sunken in measureless poverty, distress and subjection, resigned to their fate of being lost in blindness and defiance, and yet full of wistful longing for salvation.

The relations between Him and His disciples had also changed since that day. Formerly, although they had treated Him with respect they had always been on familiar terms with Him. Now they were more submissive, more silent, and their respect had become reverence. With some, love had almost become worship. And yet they always fell back into unruliness and timidity. There was one especially who disagreed with much. When, in order to avoid the high roads, they went through the barren district on the other side of Jordan, and endured all sorts of hardships and privations, the disciple Judas could not forbear uttering his thoughts. He had nothing to do now as treasurer of the little band, so he had plenty of time to spread discouragement behind the Master's back. Why should not the Messiah's train of followers appear in fitting brilliance? He explained what Jesus taught about death as implying that when the beggar prophet died, the glorious Messiah would appear! But why first in Jerusalem? Why should they not assume their high position in the interval; why were the honours of the new era not already allotted?

Jesus' popularity had increased once more, and in the more thickly inhabited districts the people hurried together. "The Prophet is passing through!" They streamed forth bringing provisions with them, and the sick and crippled came imploring Him to heal them. He accepted enough to meet His immediate needs from the store that was offered Him, but He did not work the desired miracles. He forbade His disciples even to speak of them. He was angry with the crowd who would not believe without miracles, and would not understand the signs of the times. "Directly they see a cloud rise in the west they say: It's going to rain. If a south wind blows they know that it is going to be hot. But they do not understand the signs of a new world uprising. If they cannot understand the spiritual tokens, they cannot have others. They would fain see the sign of Jonah, who lay three days in the whale's belly? Be it so. They shall see how the Son of Man, after being buried for three days, shall live again."

Judas shook his head over such talk. "That doesn't help much." But the others, especially John, James and Simon, did not think about the kingdom of the Messiah, or about earthly power; their hearts were filled with love for the Master. Yet they, too, had their own temptations. They often talked together of that other world where Jesus would be Eternal King, and where they—they who firmly adhered to Him—would share His glory. And in all seriousness they dreamed of the offices and honours that would be theirs, and actually disputed who among them would hold the highest rank. Each boasted of his own achievements. James had brought Him the most friends in Galilee. Simon rested his claim on the fact that he had been the first to recognise in Him the Son of God. John reminded them that he came from the same place, and had once worked with Him as carpenter's apprentice. John might have said that the Master was especially fond of him, but he did not say so. Simon, on the contrary, put forward most emphatically the fact that the Master had called him the rock on which He should found His community.

When Jesus noticed how they were disputing He went to them and asked what they were discussing so eagerly.

"Master," said James boldly, "you come to us as if we had called you. We want to know who among your disciples will be first in the Eternal Kingdom. See, brother John and I would like to be nearest you, one on your right hand, the other on your left, so that we may have you between us then as we have you now."

Upon which Jesus said: "This is not the first time that you have talked thus foolishly. You don't know what you want. I tell you, when you have done what I do, and have suffered what I shall suffer, then you may come and ask."

They replied: "Lord, we will do what you do and suffer what you suffer."

These resolute words pleased Him, and He said nothing of the enormous distance between Him and them. They were too simple to understand that. He only said: "Leave that to Him who will show you your place. For every ruler has rulers over him; One alone has no authority above Him. Consider: if a servant has worked hard and faithfully, he will not therefore in the evening sit at the upper end of the table and begin to eat before his master, but he will first prepare his master's food, and place a footstool under his feet. And so it is with you. Whoso would be greatest must serve the others. I, too, have come not to be ministered to but to minister, and to sacrifice Myself for others and to give My life a ransom for many."

It alarmed them that He should speak more and more often of giving up His life. What did it mean? If he perished Himself how could He save others? That might occur in saving people from fire or from drowning, but how could a man free a people and lead it to God by sacrificing his life? True, the heathens had their human sacrifices. Judas had his own ideas about the matter. The Master was depressed by failure, or He merely wished to test His adherents, to find out if they had strength enough to follow Him through thick and thin. If only He could be entirely sure of that, then He would hasten like the lightnings of heaven to annihilate the enemy and glorify His own adherents. If, as He Himself had said, faith was so strong that it could remove mountains, it would be quite easy for Him to show His power at the propitious moment.

This firm belief of Judas made the disciple Thomas remember the Master's actual words about faith: Whosoever says to the mountain, Depart, and cast yourself into the sea, and does not doubt but believes that it happens, for him it will happen. Mark, for him it will happen. Whether others who do not believe will see the mountain fall into the sea He did not say.

"Then, brother Thomas," said Bartholomew, "you think things that happen through faith happen only for him who believes. They form only an inward experience, but real enough for him, because he sees them happen with his spiritual eye. But they are not real for others. If that's the case, my friend, we should be lost. Jesus may believe that the enemy fall, Jesus may see them fall; all the same they still live and live to destroy us."

"That is cheap logic," said the resolute Judas. "Every one has seen how He made the lame to walk and the dead to live; even those who did not believe. Take heed! If only the Master would make some outward demonstration of His power you should see what He could do."

Others were of that opinion, so they followed—followed their Messiah.

But during their long wandering over the bad roads of the desert and over the fertile plains they suffered continual distress. Although they had now been some time in the plains they were not always in good humour. They saw how the Master renounced the power and pleasure of the world and yet walked the earth strong and cheerful. It was only later that they understood how the two things could be reconciled. He enjoyed what was harmless if it did not hurt others, but He attached little value to it. His bodily senses were all He needed to recognise the Father's power in nature, and to be happy in that knowledge. He did not deny the world; He spiritualised it and made it divine. The things of earth were to Him the building-stones for the Kingdom of Heaven. So, in spite of increasing doubt, the disciples always found that things came right, and they, too, determined to despise the world and to love their simple life.

One day they came to a place in which there was great activity. Men were ploughing in the fields, hammering in the workshops, lithe carmen and slow camel-drivers were driving hard bargains. And it was the Sabbath! "Did heathens dwell here?" the disciples asked. No; it was a Jewish village, and the inhabitants were so pious that they seldom let a Passover go by without going up to Jerusalem. Many years ago they had heard a young man speak words in the Temple which they had never forgotten. "Men should work on the Sabbath if it was for the good of their fellows," the young man had preached with great impressiveness. Now, it is generally admitted that all work is for the good of the individual and also of the community. So they began there and then, and had never since stopped working for a single day. The result was great local prosperity.

When Jesus saw how His words at Jerusalem on that occasion had been so utterly misunderstood or were misapplied through a desire for gain, He was filled with indignation, and began to speak in the market-place: "I tell you the Kingdom of God will be taken from these lovers of gain and given to a people more worthy of it. For the good of one's fellow-men? Does good depend on the property a man possesses? Property is harmful to men; it hardens their hearts, and makes them continually fearful of loss and death. And you call that good! There was once a rich man who after years of toiling and moiling had his barns full, and thought: Now I can rest and enjoy life. But the next night he died, and the property to gain which he had destroyed body and soul he had to leave to those who quarrelled and disputed over it and mocked at him. I tell you, if you gain the whole world and lose your soul—all is lost."

When He had so spoken a very old man came up to Him and said: "Rabbi, you are poor, and it is easy for you to talk. You do not know how difficult it is for a rich man to cease adding to his wealth. Oh, the delightful time I had when I was poor! Then I began to get money unawares, was glad of it, and began to fear I might lose it. And then as the needs of my family increased more quickly than my means, I thought my money was not sufficient, and the more one had the more one required. I am now an old man; I possess thirty sacks full of gold, and I know that I cannot enjoy my wealth any more. But I cannot stop gaining and amassing. I could sooner stop breathing."

Jesus told the old man a little story: "Some children by the roadside attacked a strange boy for the sake of some broken potsherds which they were collecting. But when they had got a great heap together the roadman came along, and with his spade threw the pieces into the gutter. The children raised a great cry. But the man saw that there was blood on some of the fragments, and asked: 'Where did you get these from?' Whereupon the children grew pale with terror, and the man took them off to the magistrate."

The old man understood. He went away and compensated all who had come to harm through him, and then on his way home he started once more to amass treasure!

The next day Jesus and His followers reached another village. There all was quiet, and the inhabitants lay under the fig-trees although it was not the Sabbath. Then Jesus asked: "Why do they not work?"

And one of the villagers said: "We should like to work, but we have no tools. We want spades, ploughs, sickles, and axes, but our smith is always making holiday. And it is just he who makes the best knives. There are no other smiths here."

Our wanderers then went to the smith. The man was sitting in his room, reading the Holy Scriptures and praying. One of the disciples asked him why he was not at work although it was a week-day.

The smith replied: "Since I heard the Prophet it is always Sabbath with me. For a man should not strive after material property, neither should he take any care for the morrow, but seek the Kingdom of Heaven."

Then Jesus went to the entrance of the house, and told, so that the smith could hear Him, of the man who made a journey. "Before he departed he called his servants together and gave them money with which to carry on the work of the house. He gave the first five heavy pieces of gold, the second two, and the third one. They were to keep house according to their own discretion. When after a long time the master returned, he desired his servants to account for the way in which they had employed the money. The first had increased it tenfold. 'I am glad,' said the master, 'and because you are faithful in little I will trust you much—keep the gold.' The second servant had increased the money twofold; the master praised him also, and gave him both principal and interest. Then he asked the third servant what he had done with his money. 'Master,' replied the man, 'it wasn't much to begin with, so I wouldn't risk losing it. I should have liked to gain a second gold piece, but I might have lost the first. So I did not use it for the housekeeping, but buried it in a safe place, so that I could faithfully return it to you.' Then the master snatched the gold piece from him and gave it to the fellow who had increased his money tenfold. 'The little that he has shall be taken away from the lazy and unprofitable servant and given to him who knows how to value what he has.'"

"Do you understand?" Matthew asked the smith. "The gold pieces are the talents which God gives men—to some more, to others less. Whoso lets his talents lie fallow, and does not use them, is like the man who has strength and skill to work the iron, but who lays the hammer aside to brood idly over writings he cannot understand."

"How is it then," said someone, "fault is found with him who works, and likewise with him who doesn't work?"

Matthew tapped the speaker on the shoulder. "My friend! Everything at the right time! the point is to do that for which you have a talent, not to yearn after things for which you have no talent whatsoever."

The smith laid aside his book and his phylacteries and grasped his hammer.

Then a man came by who complained that the new teaching was worthless. He had followed it, had given away all his possessions because they brought him care. But since he had become poor, he had had still more care. So now he should begin to earn again.

"Do so," said James the younger, "but take care that your heart is not so much in it that your possessions possess you!"

And others came: "Sir, I am a ship's carpenter! Sir, I am a goldsmith! Sir, I am a stone-cutter! Are we not to put our whole heart into our work so as to produce something worthy? If our heart is not in it we cannot do good work."

"Of course," said the disciple, "you must exert your whole strength and talent in order to produce worthy work. But not for the sake of the work or the praise, but for the sake of God and the men whom you serve. And rejoice from your hearts that God creates His works through you."

A rustic once came to James and discussed prayer. The Master said you should pray in few words and not, as the heathens do, in a great many words, for the Father knows our needs. Well, he had once prayed just in that way, using few words, but his prayer had not been heard.

Then James said: "Don't you remember what the Master said of the man to whose door a friend came in the night and begged for bread? He had gone to bed, took no heed of his friend's knocking, and at length called out: 'Go away and let me sleep.' But the friend continued to knock and to complain that he needed bread, and began noisily to shake the door. That lasted until the man in bed could endure it no longer. Out of temper, he got up, took some bread and gave it to his friend through the window. He did not give it him out of love, but only to be rid of him. The Master meant that with perseverence much might be attained by prayer."

The man was irritated by the disciple's explanation, and said; "What! One time He says, Pray shortly, using few words; and at another time, You must not leave off praying until you are heard."

But James replied: "Friend, you misunderstand me again. Did He say, You shall pray little? No; He said, You shall pray in few words; but without ceasing, and with your whole heart, and with faith that the Father will at length hear you. And the longer He keeps you waiting for His help, the greater must be your faith that He knows why He keeps you waiting, and at last He will give you more than you asked for. If that man gave the bread in order to be rid of the annoyance, how much more will the Father give the child whom He loves?"

To which the man replied: "Well, I did pray thus, I kept on and I believed, and yet I was not heard."

"What did you pray for?"

"For this," said the rustic. "I have a neighbour who steals the figs from my tree, and I can't catch him at it. So I prayed that he might fall from the tree and break his legs. But I was not heard."

James was obliged to laugh aloud over the foolish fellow who prayed to the merciful Father for vengeance.

"Pray for strength to pardon your neighbour and give him the figs which he seems to need more than you, and you will certainly be heard."

"And," continued the disciple, "if it is a question of praying without ceasing, that does not mean you are always to be folding your hands and uttering pious words; it is rather to direct one's thoughts continually with longing to the dwelling of God and things eternal, and to measure everything in life, small things as well as great, by that standard, in reverence and faith."

A noisy fellow asked: "How can I measure the corn I have to sell by that standard?"

"If you refrain from taking advantage of the buyer with mixed, damp grain, but give him good stuff, then you are doing God's will, and are not harming your immortal soul by deceit, then your corn and your method of acting are measured by the standard of God and Eternity."

"But see," exclaimed another, "my business friend gave me bad measure when he sold me oil, and gave me half water. And it stands in the Scriptures: As it is measured to you, so shall you measure it again."

As they walked on Jesus shook His head. To think that His simple teaching could meet with so much misunderstanding, especially among those wanting in will towards it, those who could think of nothing but their desires and bodily comforts! "No," He exclaimed sorrowfully, "they do not understand the word. They must have an illustration that they can see and feel, an illustration they will never forget."



CHAPTER XXVI

Gradually they were reaching the end of their journey. They met with no persecution during this last stretch. Indeed, they rather saw how some of the seeds, although mingled with weeds, had taken root. They reached the last hills after a night in which they had encamped under sycamore and fig trees. Jesus was walking in front. Although He was exhausted with the long wandering, and His feet almost refused their office, He still walked on ahead. The disciples came behind, and when they reached the top of the hill they gave a great cry. There opposite them on the tableland of the other hill lay the metropolis! In the morning sun it looked as if built of burnished gold, Solomon's Temple with its innumerable pinnacles overtopping everything.

Several of the disciples had never before been to Jerusalem, and a feeling of inspired reverence came over them at the sight of the Holy City of the kings and prophets. Here—so thought Judas and many another—here will the glory begin for us. They sat down under the olive-trees to rest and to put their clothes in order, while some even anointed their hair. Then they ate figs and the fruit of the currant bushes. But they were anxious about the Master. The exertions of the last few weeks had told on Him, and His feet were very sore. But He said nothing. The disciples agreed that they could not let this go on any longer. James went down the slope to where he saw some cottages, and asked if anyone had a riding horse or at least a camel on which a traveller could ride into the town. They would like to borrow it.

A little bent old man sidled up to the stranger and assured him with much eloquence that neither horse nor camel was to be had, but that there was an ass. Yet that ass was not to be had either.

Could the Messiah make His entry on an ass? No, we could not begin like that. Such was the disciple's first thought. Then it occurred to him that ancient prophets had foretold: He would make His entry on an ass. Whereupon James declared himself willing to take the ass.

"You may want him and I mayn't give him," said the old man with a cunning laugh. "If anything happened to this animal I should never get over it. It is no ordinary ass, my friend!"

"It is no ordinary rider who needs him," said James.

The little old man took the disciple to the stable. The animal stood by the manger, and was certainly of a good breed. It was not gray, but rather bright brown and smooth, with slender legs, pretty, sharp-pointed ears, and long whiskers round its big intelligent eyes.

"Isn't it the colour of a thoroughbred Arab?" said the old man.

"It's a beautiful creature," assented James. "Will you lend it for a silver piece and much honour? It can easily be back by noon."

To which the little old man replied: "It stands to reason that we can make something out of it during this time of visitors. Let us make it two silver pieces."

"One silver piece and honour!"

"Let us make it two silver pieces without honour," haggled the little old man. "A steed for princes, I tell you. In the whole of Judaea you won't find such another beauty! It is of noble descent, you must know."

"We can dispense with that honour," said James, "if only it does not stumble."

Then the old man related how in the year of Herod's massacre of the innocents—"a little over thirty years ago, I think—you must know that the Infant Messiah lay in a stable at Bethlehem with the ox and the ass. The child rode away into foreign lands, as far as Egypt, they say, on that very ass. And this ass is descended from that one."

"If that's so," said James brightly, "it's a marvellous coincidence!" And he whispered softly in the old man's ear: "The man who will enter Jerusalem to-day on that ass is the Messiah who was born in the stable."

"Is it Jesus of Nazareth?" asked the old man. "I will hire the animal to Him for half a silver piece. In return I shall implore Him to heal my wife, who has been rheumatic for years."

So they made their compact, and James led the ass up the mountain where they were all sitting together, unable to gaze long enough at Jerusalem. Only Jesus was wrapt in thought and looked gloomily at the shining town.

"Oh, Jerusalem!" He said softly to Himself. "If only thou wouldst heed this hour. If thou wouldst recognise wherein lies thy salvation. But thou dost not recognise it, and I foresee the day when cruel enemies will pull down thy walls so that not one stone remains upon another."

John placed his cloak on the animal, and Jesus mounted it. He rode down to the valley followed by His disciples.

And then an extraordinary thing happened. When they reached the valley of Kedron where the roads cross, people hurried up shouting: "The King is coming! The Son of David is coming!" Soon others ran out of the farms and the gardens, and kept alongside them at the edge of the road, shouting: "It is the Messiah! God be praised. He has come!"

No one knew who had spread the news of His arrival, or who first shouted the word Messiah. Perhaps it was Judas. It caught on like wildfire, awaking cries of acclamation everywhere. When Jesus rode up to the town, the crowd was so great that the ass could only pace slowly along, and after He had passed the town gate the streets and squares could scarcely contain the people. The whole of Jerusalem had suddenly become aware that the Prophet of Nazareth had come! Strangers from the provinces, who had already seen and heard Him in other places, pressed forward. Now that He entered the metropolis with head erect and the cry of the Messiah filling the air, people who had scorned the poor fugitive were proud of Him and boasted of meetings with Him, of His acquaintance. Hands were stretched out to Him. Many cast their garments on the ground for the ass to step on. They greeted Him with olive and palm branches, and from hundreds of throats sounded: "All hail to Thee! All hail to Thee! Welcome, Thou long-expected, eagerly desired Saviour!" The police, with their long staves, made a way through the streets that led to the golden house, to the king's palace. From all doors and windows they shouted: "Come into my house! Take shelter under my roof, Thou Saviour of the people!" The crowd poured forward to the palace. The disciples, who walked close behind Him and could scarcely control their agitation, were surrounded, overwhelmed, fanned with palm-leaves, pelted with rose-buds. Simon Peter had been recognised as soon as the Master, and could not prevent the people carrying him on their shoulders; but he bent down and implored them to set him on the ground, for he did not wish to be lifted higher than the Master, and he feared if they held him up like that over the heads of the others many would take him for the Messiah. John had managed better; bending down and breathing heavily, he led the animal, so that the people only took him for a donkey-driver. All the rest of the disciples enjoyed the Master's honours as their own. Had they not faithfully shared misery with Him!

"Jerusalem, thou art still Jerusalem!" they said, intoxicated and filled with the storm of exultation around Him. "However well it went with us, it has never gone so well as here in Jerusalem."

Judas could not congratulate himself enough that, despite the poor procession, the Master was recognised. "I always said He would work His miracle when the time came."

"Well, I am full of fears," said Thomas. "They shout far too loudly. The sounds come from the throat, not from the heart."

"Oh, take yourself off. You're always full of foreboding."

"I understand people a little. Idle townsfolk are easily pleased; they like to enjoy themselves, and any cause serves their turn."

"Thomas," said Matthew reprovingly, "It is not your humility that makes you heedless of the honour. It is doubt. See that fat shopkeeper there who brings more faith out of his throat. Listen! 'Hail to Thee, Son of David!' he shouts, and is already hoarse through his loud shrieks of joy."

Thomas did not answer. Stooping down in irritation, he hastened through the crowd. Cries of welcome filled the whole town, and the streets along which the procession took its way were like animated palm groves. All traffic was at a standstill, windows and roofs were filled with people, all stretching their necks to see the Messiah.

Jesus sat on the animal, both feet on the one side, holding the reins with His right hand. He looked calmly and earnestly in front of Him, just as if He was riding through the dust clouds of the wilderness. When the pinnacles of the royal castle towering above the roofs of the houses were in front of Him, He turned the animal into a side street, to the Temple square. Two guards at the entrance to the Temple signed violently with their arms to the crowd to go away, but the people remained standing there. The procession stopped, and Jesus got off the ass.

"He is not going to the palace, but to the Temple?" many asked in surprise. "To the Temple?"

"To the Rabbis and Pharisees? Then we'll see what we shall see."



CHAPTER XXVII

Jesus, with serious determination, quickly ascended the steps of the Temple, without even glancing at the shouting people. A part of the crowd pressed after Him, the rest gradually dispersed. But the shout: "Praised be He who has come to-day!" never ceased the whole day.

When he entered the forecourt of the Temple and looked in. He stood still in dismay. It was full of life and movement. Hundreds of people of all kinds were tumbling over each other's heels, in gay-coloured coats, in hairy gowns, with tall caps and flat turbans. They were all offering goods for sale with cries and shrieks; there were spread out carpets, candlesticks, hanging lamps, pictures of the Temple and of the ark of the covenant, fruit, pottery, phylacteries, incense, silken garments, and jewels. Money-changers vaunted their high rate of exchange, the advantage of Roman money, broke open their rolls of gold and let the pieces fall slowly into the scales in order to delight the eyes of the pilgrims. Buyers made their way through, looked scornfully at the goods, haggled, laughed, and bought. Rabbis glided round in long caftans and soft shoes so that they were not heard. They wore velvet caps on their heads below which hung their curly black or grey hair. They carried large parchment scrolls under their arms—for the Sabbath was about to begin—slipped around with a dignified yet cunning manner, bargained here and there with shopkeepers or their wives, vanished behind the curtains and then reappeared.

When Jesus had for some time observed all this confusion from the threshold, anger overcame Him. Pushing the traders aside with His arms, He cut Himself a way through. At the nearest booth He snatched up a bundle of phylacteries, swung them over the heads of the crowd, and exclaimed so loudly that His voice was heard above everything: "Ye learned teachers and ye Temple guards, see how admirably you understand the letter of the Word! It is written in the Scriptures: My house is for prayer! And you have turned Solomon's Temple into a bazaar!" Hardly had He so spoken when He overturned a table with His hand, and upset several benches with His foot so that the goods fell in confusion to the ground under the feet of the crowd which began to give way. They stared at one another speechless, and He continued to thunder forth: "My house shall be a holy refuge for the downcast and the suffering, said the Lord. And you make it a den of assassins, and, with your passion for lucre, leave no place for men's souls. Out with you, ye cheats and thieves, whether you higgle over your goods or with the Scriptures!" He swung the phylacteries high over the Rabbis and teachers so that they bent their heads and fled through the curtained entrances. But the Rabbis, the Pharisees, and the Temple guards assembled in the side courts, and quickly took counsel how they were to seize this madman and render Him harmless. For see, ever more people streamed through the gates into the forecourt, surrounded the angry Prophet, and shouted: "Praised be Thou, O Nazarene, who art come to cleanse the Temple! Praise and all hail to Thee, long-looked-for Saviour!"