When the Rabbis saw how things were going, they too raised their voices and shouted: "Praised be the Prophet! Hail to thee, O Nazarene!"

"All is won!" whispered the disciples, crowding up together. "Even the Rabbis shout!"

The Rabbis, however, had quickly sent for the police; they came up to Jesus and, as soon as the crowd became quieter, entered into conversation with Him.

"Master," said one of them, "truly you appear at the right time. The condition of our poor people is such that we know not which way to turn. You are the man who turns aside neither to right nor left, but who keeps in the straight path of justice. Tell us what you think: Shall we Jews pay taxes to the Roman Emperor or shall we refuse?"

Jesus saw what they were driving at, and asked to be shown a coin. They were surprised that He had no money in His pockets, and handed Him one of the Roman coins current in the country.

"From whom do these coins come?" He asked.

"As you see, from the Roman Emperor."

"And whose picture is on the coin?"

"The Emperor's."

"And whose is the inscription on the coin?"

"The Emperor's."

"Whose is the coin?"

They were silent.

Jesus said: "Render unto God what comes from Him, and unto Caesar what comes from Caesar."

Those who saw through the case broke out into applause and shouting over the decision, and carried the crowd with them. The Rabbis were secretly furious that He had escaped their cunning snare. They had reckoned: If He says, Pay taxes to the Roman Emperor, the people will know that He is not the Messiah but rather a servant of the foreigner. And if He says, Do not pay taxes to the Emperor, He is a demagogue, and will be taken prisoner. But now He has both Emperor and people on His side, and we must let Him alone.

"Everything is going splendidly," the disciples whispered. "They ask His advice, they will do nothing without Him."

The interpreters of the Law had got Him in their midst, and could not rest till they outwitted Him. So one of them asked Him: "Oh, man of great wisdom, do you believe that there will be a resurrection of the dead?"

"There will be," He answered.

"That marriage between man and woman is indissoluble, and that a woman may only have one husband at a time?"

"That is so."

"And that after the death of one the other may marry again?"

"It is so."

"You are right, sir," interposed a third speaker. "But suppose a woman had seven husbands one after another because they died one after another. If they all rise from the dead the woman would have seven husbands at once, each is her lawful husband, and yet she may only have one."

There was immense eagerness to hear what He would say, for the problem seemed insoluble. And Jesus said: "He who asks that question knows neither the Scriptures nor the power of God. The Scriptures promise us resurrection, and the power of God the eternal life of the soul. There is no marriage between souls, so the question falls to the ground."

There was fresh shouting and applause, and kerchiefs were waved from all sides. The teachers of the Law drew back in ill-humour, and dismissed the police who were waiting in the back court.



CHAPTER XXVIII

After the excellent reception in Jerusalem, and the victory in the Temple on the first day, the disciples ventured to walk about the city fearlessly and openly. Jesus remained grave and silent. They put up in a quiet inn by the gate. The disciples did not see why He should not have lodged them in a palace. They would have liked occasionally to accept the invitation of rich people, and enjoy the homage that would be paid them, but Jesus would not permit it. The festival of the Passover was at hand; there was something else to do than to be feted and have their heads turned, they would soon need to have their heads very cool. If He accepted any of the invitations it would be the one from Bethany, where He knew He had truer friends than in Jerusalem. But meanwhile He had something more to say in the Temple.

When He went there the next day the hall was filled to overflowing with people, Rabbis, and expounders of the Law. Some had come in order to witness His glorification, others to try and ruin Him.

One of the Pharisees came up to Him and asked Him without any preliminaries which was the greatest commandment.

Jesus ascended the pulpit and said; "I have just been asked which is the greatest commandment. Now, I am not come to give new commandments, but to fulfil the old ones. The greatest commandment is: Love God above all, and thy neighbour as thyself. Those who asked Me, your teachers and interpreters of the Law, say the same, but their actions do not square with their words. You may believe their words, but you must not imitate their deeds. They exact the uttermost from you, but do not themselves stir a finger. And what good they do, is done in the eyes of the people, so that they may win praise. They like to take the first place at festivals, and to be greeted on all sides as the expounders of Holy Writ. That honour they do not offer to God, but to themselves. I tell you he who exalts himself will be cast down."

Some of the Pharisees interrupted Him and contradicted Him. He turned to them face to face, and in a louder voice said: "Yes, you expounders of Holy Writ, you seek to shine outwardly. You keep your vessels clean on the outside, and your wool soft, but inside you are full of wickedness and lust of plunder. Ye who sit in the seats of learning and preach morals are like tombs adorned with flowers outside, but full of corruption inside. You despise the fathers because they persecuted the prophets; while you yourselves kill the prophets whom the Lord sends to-day, or else suffer them to be contemned. And when they are dead you build them fine tombs. Cursed be ye, ye hypocrites! You forbid others to be the heralds of salvation; you even stone them. You will not go yourselves into the Kingdom of Heaven, and you keep out those who wish to go in. Cursed be ye, ye, with your semblance of holiness, who take to yourselves the houses of widows and the property of orphans under the pretence of love! Ye fools and blind guides who lead the people to petty, unimportant things, to outward observances and customs, instead of to the important things—to justice, to mercy, and to love! That is as wise as to strain out the gnat and swallow the camel. Ye snakes and vipers! Be ye cursed eternally! Even if God sent His Son you would crucify Him, and would pretend you did it for the sake of the people because He was a traitor. But know that you will have to pay for the blood of the heaven-sent Messenger! The time is not far off when the blood of your children will flow in streams through the streets of Jerusalem!"

While Jesus was speaking His disciples trembled. They had never seen Him so consumed with anger. But it was too soon! He had no army to protect Him if they should attack Him. The crowd was immensely excited, and the applause grew to a storm. Many screamed with delight that such words were at last spoken; others looked threateningly at the Pharisees. They—the Rabbis and Pharisees—had all kinds of excuses ready against the terrible accusations, but it seemed to them wiser not to honour the outbreak of this "seeker of the people's favour" with any answer, and to leave the Temple at once, unnoticed, by the back entrances.

The broad square in front of the Temple was a sea of heads. As many persons as possible had pushed their way in, but the greater number surrounded the enormous building, and shouted incessantly: "We, too, want to hear Him! Let Him come out and preach in the open air so that we may see Him. Hail to the Messiah King! He shall reign in the golden palace and in Solomon's glorious Temple!"

When Jesus stepped out of the Temple into the confusion. He heard the shouts, and mounted the plinth of one of the immense pillars that surrounded the building. Here again He spoke. Looking at the city He hurled these words at the crowd:

"You boast of your glorious Temple! I tell you that not one stone of this building shall remain on the other. For you have heaped up crime upon crime. I find none of you thirsty, but you are all the worse for drinking. The cup is full, and the present generation shall know it. When desolation comes over the land, then let him who is in the valley flee to the mountain, and let him who is in the field not return into the city, and let him who is on the roof not come down, in order to fetch his coat from the house. Fire and sword will meet him. Woe to the women and children in those days: they will cry. Mountains fall on us and crush us. It will be a wailing and lamentation such as has never before been under the sun, and never will be again. Unappeasable anger will overtake the people, Jerusalem will be destroyed, and its inhabitants be led into captivity by strange nations. And men will be judged according to their good or evil deed. Of two who are in the field one will be accepted, the other cast out. Of two who lie in the same bed one will be heard, the other ignored. The grain shall be gathered in the barns, the weeds shall be burnt in the fire."

These words caused some murmuring in the crowd, and one of the disciples wrung his hands in despair: "There will be trouble over this!"

Then His tone became gentler; "But do not despair; the days of that misery shall be shortened. I will pray for it. Where there is carrion there are eagles, and from the nation of sinners shall arise martyrs of the truth of God. As the trees blossom and sprout after the hard winter, so shall the Kingdom of Heaven blossom forth from the purified people. For the glad tidings will penetrate through the whole universe, and happy will be the nations which accept it."

"Heaven upon earth?" asked someone from the swaying crowd. Jesus answered: "Not your heaven upon earth! Not that! For the earth is too weak to bear heaven. The earth is doomed, and of that doom the downfall of Jerusalem is but a parable. In that day much distress will come. False prophets will come and say, We are the saviours of the world! Their spirit and their truth will blind the people, but it will not be the Holy Spirit or the eternal truth. A great weariness and despair will come over men's souls, and they will long for death. And as men gradually lose their light, their reason, so will the stars in the sky be extinguished; the sea will cover the land, and the mountains be sunk in the sea. But the fiery token of the Son of God will appear in the dark sky."

"What is the token?" asked one of the grey-bearded Rabbis.

"He who has eyes will soon see the token of the Lord's judgment high on Golgotha. His angels will announce Him in the air, but not in His lowliness as at Bethlehem. He will come in all the strength and glory in which He sits at the right hand of the Father. And He will restore every soul to its body, and reward the faithful with eternal joy, and the unbelieving with everlasting punishment."

With terrified countenances and whispered words the people asked: "When will this happen?"

"Watch, my children! God alone knows the day and hour. This world is passing, as you see, hour by hour. Everything changes; only the word of the Father shall endure for ever."

This speech of the Prophet made a deep impression on the people. They no longer shouted or rejoiced; they no longer looked on His countenance as gladly as the day before, the glowing eyes burnt with such terrible anger. They became silent, or only whispered to each other. Did you understand? one asked his neighbour quietly. Yes, they had all understood, but each something different. They were all impressed with the words; every one was moved; and groups of people, as they made their way out, talked over the Prophet's speech, and many began to dispute about it.

"I don't expect much from this Messiah," said an innkeeper to his guests. "As far as I can see, He promises more ill than good. If He can offer nothing better than the destruction of Jerusalem and the Last Judgment, He might just as well have stayed at home at Nazareth."

"No, I've never taken much account of the Last Judgment," said a dealer in skins from Jericho.

"It's quite true," shouted a tailor, "nothing good comes from Galilee!"

"Nor from Judaea," laughed an unpatriotic tailor from Joppa. "I can tell you I expect nothing until we have expelled all our Jewish princes and Rabbis and become Romans out and out. The Emperor of Rome is the true Messiah. All the rest should be impaled."

So they gave vent to their various opinions. The Temple authorities rubbed their hands in satisfaction. "He is not clever enough to be dangerous. He will hardly come within the arm of the law after what He has said."

"But the people will judge Him," said one of the oldest among them, "the people themselves. Mark that! I promise you they will."

"No, indeed. He is not a man of fair words," said one of the overseers. "He does not flatter the mob, and my contempt for the Nazarene is less than it was yesterday. If He falls in the eyes of the people, He rises in mine."

"The man makes me think that He will soon give Himself up. Did you hear His allusion to Golgotha?"

"Bless my soul, a famous prophet has got to be right in something," mocked one of the high priests. "I think we ought to confer with the authorities so as to prevent any disturbance to-morrow at the festival. You understand me?"

"That's worth consideration with all this concourse of people."

"I think he has poured enough water on the fire," said the high priest. "No one would stir a finger if we took Him."

"Let's wait till the festival is over. You can never be sure of the mob."

"What! After laying traps for Him all over the country, are we to let Him insult us here in the Temple itself? No, I don't fear the mob any more. The law is more hazardous."



CHAPTER XXIX

The little town of Bethany was situated in a narrow valley at the foot of the Mount of Olives. There was a large house there belonging to a man who had been ill for many years; formerly he had been filled with despair, but since he had become an adherent of the Nazarene, he was resigned and cheerful. His incurable disease became almost a blessing, for it destroyed all disquieting worldly desires and hopes, and also all fears. In peaceful seclusion he gave up his heart to the Kingdom of God. When he sat in his garden and looked out over the quiet working of Nature, he hardly remembered that he was ill. He was so entirely imbued with the happiness of life in the Kingdom of Heaven, and his prayers were full of gratitude that death could not destroy such a life, since it was immortal, and would be carried into eternity with the immortal soul.

Two of the inmates of his house were at one with him in this. Magdalen, his wife's sister, the fallen woman of Magdala, lived with them since she had been obliged to part from the Master. Now she heard with a fearful joy that Jesus was in Jerusalem. Her brother, Lazarus, was in still greater excitement about it. The youth declared that the Master had accomplished the greatest thing of all in regard to him. He could not talk about it enough, and was irritated if they did not receive his tale as the very newest thing, although it had happened months before, when Jesus had been in the wilderness of Judaea. They had marvelled at the event beyond all measure, but when the great miracle came to be related every day, it got commonplace. "Just let one of you experience what dying is like," Lazarus would often exclaim, interrupting a lively conversation. "When you lie there and turn cold, they put on a shroud, tie a kerchief round your head, stretch you out on a board, and lament that you are dead. You are dead, but it isn't quite what you thought. You know about it; you are there when they put you into the sack, carry you to the grave, and rend their garments for grief. You are there when your body is buried in the damp, everlasting darkness, and begins to mingle with the earth. Your poor soul gathers itself together to utter a cry for help, but your breast is dead, your throat is dead. And in this agony of death, which never ceases, a man comes by, lays his hand on your head, and says, 'Lazarus, get up!' and your pulse begins to beat, and your limbs grow warm again, and you get up and live! And live! Do you know what it means—live?"

Then Magdalen would go to her brother and calm him, telling him that it was a great thing to awake a dead body to life, but a still greater thing to bring a dead soul to life!

Now this family of Bethany had sent to Jerusalem and invited the Master to go to their house with two of His travelling companions in order that He might repose Himself after His long wanderings in homelike security. Jesus thought it was time to leave the city for a little, and accepted the invitation. His disciples were sorry. They each desired some hospitable house in order that after so long a time of hardship they might once again be glad with the Master; they thought that was only reasonable, considering His victory. When the disciples found that only two of them could go with Him, they were distressed, for all had been obliged to share the hard times with Him.

"Have you ever lacked anything with Me?" He asked. "Have you suffered want?"

"No, Lord, never!" For by His side they had never felt want. The Master rejoiced over their disinterestedness, and the ten decided that the youngest and the oldest should go with Him, as was only fair. So John and Simon Peter were chosen. The rest found lodging with citizens of the town. Joseph of Arimathea, who had property round Jerusalem, received some of the disciples. There was the rich Simeon, who had once ridden out into the wilderness to gain eternal life, and had nearly lost his mortal life. Since then he had changed his opinion about the value of great possessions; at least, he let the needy share them, and he received some of the disciples. James had business in Bethpage, on the farther slope of the Mount of Olives, where he had hired the ass. He took Andrew with him. The animal had been sent back, but had not yet been paid for. The little old man came to meet them in most friendly fashion. He was proud beyond everything that his noble brown ass had had so great an honour. He had himself been in the city, and had heard how the Prophet reproved the Pharisees in the Temple. That was the finest day of his life. If the Master would only come and heal his wife of her rheumatism, he would be converted.

That was a good thing, said James, because they hadn't any money with which to pay him. The little old man whistled in surprise. He saw now that people were right when they set no store by men of Galilee.

In order to save their countrymen's honour, they offered to work in the garden until they had fully paid the debt. So both the disciples set to digging, and thought, perhaps, of the parable of the labourers in the vineyard. Then they discussed the events in Jerusalem, and how they would rather be ministers of the Messiah in the golden palace than doing such hard work here.

When Jesus with John and Peter reached Bethany, their host Amon had himself pushed in his wheeled chair to meet them, and called to his wife, Martha, to make haste and come and pay her respects to the guests. She had, she said, no time for that; she had things to look after, in the parlour, the dining-room, everywhere, to see that all was in order, if need be to lend a helping hand herself. The children of the servants were playing about in the courtyard, and a contented, homelike feeling pervaded everything. Suddenly the slender form of Lazarus hurried up, and lay down at the Master's feet. He recognised him, and said: "Lazarus, you have your life in order to stand upright." The youth got up. And then, hesitating and half afraid, Magdalen approached. He greeted her in silence.

She, too, said nothing. But when they were at table she knelt before Him, and anointed His feet. She dried them with her hair and wept. The pleasant odour of the oil filled the room, and Peter whispered to his neighbour: "Such ointment must cost a mint of money! If she had given it to the poor, He would have been better pleased."

Jesus heard what he said. "What is wrong, Peter? She is kind to Me so long as I am here. When I'm no longer with you, you'll still have the poor. She has shown Me a mark of love that will never be forgotten."

Peter was ashamed, and said softly to his neighbours: "He is right. It often happens that people leave a good deed undone, and say, 'We'll give something, therefore, to the poor.' That's what they say, but they do neither one nor the other. He is right."

They ate and drank amid the pleasant, homely surroundings, and were very cheerful. Magdalen wanted to sit quite at the lower end of the table, but the Master desired her to sit on His right hand. Her enthusiastic glance hung on His face, and it seemed as if she drank from His mouth every word which He spoke. Jesus was indefatigable in narrating legends and parables, every one of which contained some great thought. If He dealt harshly with human foolishness before the people, He treated it as earnestly now, but with a warm sympathy that went to the hearts of all His hearers. The invalid host was delighted, and signed to his wife to listen to the Master's words. But Martha was continually occupied in looking after the various courses and dishes, in seeing that everything was as perfect as possible, and in serving her guests. She was vexed with her sister Magdalen who sat there by His side, and troubled herself about nothing. When she again brought in a dish, Jesus put His hand gently on her arm, and said; "Martha, how busy you are. Do leave off for a little, and come and sit down. We've had more than enough with all these dainties, and you bring us still more. Copy your sister; she has chosen the better part—spiritual food instead of bodily."

So Martha sat down, and she too watched His mouth, but less for the sake of what He said than to see how He liked the food. He observed this, and said with a smile, "Everyone is kind in his own way." And He continued to reveal in attractive fashion the secrets of the Kingdom of Heaven. But Martha always interrupted Him with remarks on the dishes, or with orders to the servants, until Jesus became almost annoyed, and said sharply: "Know you not that I will give you food? The soul is the one thing needful."

Then they also spoke of the day's proceedings, and Amon congratulated Him prettily on the great victory at Jerusalem.

"Do you call that a victory?" asked Jesus. "Amon, do you know men so little? They see in Me the Messiah King who will conquer the Empire to-morrow. They, blind creatures, they have no idea of My Kingdom. They are pleased with words that destroy, they do not want to hear words that build up. It's an empty-headed people that can only be roused by need and oppression. But they will be aroused."

After dinner He lay down on cushions, the softest that Martha could find in the house. Young John's curly head lay on His breast, Magdalen sat at His feet. Peter lay near by on a carpet; a little farther off sat Amon in his wheeled chair, with Martha stroking his white hair. John was particularly happy to-day. He had never seen the Master so calm and gentle. Yet something depressed the disciple. At the above remark about the people he observed: "Master, if they knew how deeply you loved them."

"They ought to know it."

"But they cannot know it from the way in which you speak to them."

"The way in which I speak to them?" said Jesus, and stroked the disciple's soft hair. "That is just My John all over. He cannot understand that you do not stroke buffaloes with peacocks' feathers. I'm too hard on these hypocrites, these obdurate, indifferent men, am I? When I disappoint those who would extract daily profit from Me in the form of miracles, when I lay bare the carefully-concealed thoughts of their hearts, then I am hard. And when I shatter their childish love of the world, their craving for vanities, then I am hard. And when they strut about with their condemnations and their hard-heartedness, trampling the weak underfoot out of greed and malice, haughty as the heathens who bring human sacrifices to their gods, I would fain chastise them with a lash of scorpions. But when the forsaken come to Me, and penitent sinners trustfully seek refuge with Me, then, John, I am not hard."

The voices of children playing in the courtyard sounded through the open windows. Jesus turned to His hostess and said: "Martha! You have excellently entertained Me in your house. Will you give Me yet another treat?"

"What is it, Master? I would leave no wish of yours ungratified."

"The little ones—let them come in."

"Ah! my poor boy will cry his eyes out that he wasn't here to-day. Dear lad, he's in Jerusalem."

"God be his guard! Let those who are playing in the courtyard come up."

They came shyly in at the door, two dark little girls, and a fair boy, who carried a carved wood camel in his hand. When Jesus spread out His arms, they went to Him, and were soon at home, holding up their little red mouths, in which He put fruit from the table. Peter, who would have liked to sleep a little, was not particularly pleased with the little guests, but was glad that the Master petted them and joked with them.

Then Jesus said to the boy: "Benjamin, mount your camel, ride to that man over there, and ask him why he is so silent."

Peter accepted the invitation to join in the conversation, but he was not very happy in what he said. "Master," he said hesitatingly, "what I have to say is scarcely suited to this pleasant day."

Such remarks, said Martha humorously, were of the right sort to add to the cheerfulness of the company. Peter was not the man to keep a secret long. Turning to the Master, he said: "Early to-day, in the city, I heard some people talking. They're always doing you some injustice."

"What were they saying, Peter?"

"They said that the Prophet was a man of fair words, but that He did nothing. He never once healed the sick who came to Him from great distances."

"They say that?"

"Yes, sir, that's the kind of thing they say."

Jesus raised His head, and looked cheerfully round the circle. While He rocked one of the little girls on His knee, He said calmly: "So they say I only talk and do nothing. In their sense they are right. I don't pray, they mean, because they don't see Me do it. I don't fast, because we can't eat less than a little, except when we sit at a luxurious table like Martha's. I don't give alms because My purse is empty. What good do I do, then? I don't work, because in their eyes My work doesn't count. I don't work miracles on their bodies, because I am come to heal their souls. Amon, say, would you exchange the peace of your heart for sound legs?"

"Lord!" exclaimed Amon vivaciously, "if they say you do nothing good, just let them come to the house of old Amon at Bethany. You came under my roof, and my soul was healed."

"And you brought me resurrection and life," shouted Lazarus passionately from the other end of the room.

"And me, more than that," said Magdalen, looking up at Him with moist eyes. And then she bent down and kissed His feet.

And Peter exclaimed: "I was a mere worm, and He made me a man. He does more than all the Rabbis and physicians and generals put together."

Then John turned to him and asked: "Brother, why didn't you talk like that to the people in Jerusalem? Were you afraid of them?"

"Is yon man a coward?" asked the boy, pointing with his hand to Peter. "Then he'll help us to play lion and sheep in the courtyard!"

Jesus shook His head over such talk, and said: "No, My Peter is not a coward, but he is still somewhat unstable for a rock. No one who, at his age, can train himself for the Kingdom of God could be a weakling."

Martha, who had gone out to look after the supper, called into the room that the children's mother wanted them to go to her to read the Haggadah.

The little ones pulled long faces. "To read the Haggadah!" murmured the boy in a tone far too contemptuous of the holy Passover book.

"Don't you like to read about God, my child?" asked Jesus.

"No," replied the boy crossly.

John pinched his red cheek. "Naughty boy! Good boys always like to hear about God."

"But not always to read about Him!" said the little one. "The Haggadah tires me to death."

Then said Jesus: "He is of the unhappy ones for whom God is spoiled by the mere letter of the Word. Would you rather stay with Me, children, than go and read the Haggadah?"

"Yes, yes, we'll stay with you." And all three hung round His neck.

And Martha sought the mother and told her: "They are reading the Haggadah with six arms."



CHAPTER XXX

Two days were spent in this quiet, cheerful fashion. Then Jesus said to the disciples: "It is over; we must return to Jerusalem."

They were to spend the festival in the city, and James had hired a room in which the Master and His twelve faithful friends could solemnly celebrate the Passover. His disciples again gathered round Him; but they looked anxious. For they had had unpleasant experiences in their walks through the town. The mood of the people had entirely changed; they spoke little of the Messiah but rather of the demagogue and betrayer of the people, just in the same tone as had been used in Galilee. Only here the expressions were more forcible, and accompanied with threatening gestures. In front of the town gates, where there was a rocky hill, Thomas had watched two carpenters nailing crossbeams to long stakes. He asked what they were doing, and was told that criminals were impaled on the festival. Questioning them more closely, he learned that they were desert robbers.

"Desert robbers?" said a passer-by. "What are desert robbers? There are desert robbers every year. This time quite different people are to be hoisted up."

"Yes, if they're caught," said another. "His followers are burrowing somewhere in the city, but He Himself has flown. It's too absurd how the police seek everywhere, and can't find out where He is."

Thomas did not want to hear any more, and took himself off.

Judas heard similar things, only more plainly; it was quite clear that it was the Master who was meant. Things had gone as far as that! And all the enthusiasm had been false. The olive-branches and palm-leaves were not yet all trodden down, and they bore witness to the Messianic ecstasy of four days ago. And to-day? To-day the police were searching for Him! But wasn't it His own fault? To run into the jaws of your enemies, and to irritate and abuse them—to do no more than that! If He had only stirred a fold of His cloak to show who He was. Who believed that He had walked on the water: that He had brought the dead to life? They only laughed when such things were related. Why did He not do something now? Just one miracle, and we should be saved. Perhaps He is intentionally letting things come to the worst, so that His power may appear the more impressive. They will take Him and put Him in chains, lead Him out amid the joyful cries of the mob, and suddenly a troop of angels with fiery swords will come down from heaven, destroy the enemy, and the Messiah revealed will ascend the throne. That will happen, must happen. The sooner the better for all of us. How can it be hurried on? His indecision must be changed into determination. I wish they had Him already, so that we could celebrate a glorious Passover. Such were the thoughts of the disciple, Judas Iscariot. Sunk in deep reflection he walked through the streets that evening. The pinnacles and towers glowed in the dull red of the setting sun. He met several companies of soldiers: a captain stopped him and asked if he did not come from Galilee?

"I suppose you're asking about the Prophet," replied Judas; "no, I'm not He."

"But I'm certain you know about Him."

Judas drew a deep breath, as if he were on the point of saying something. But he said nothing, pursued his way, and came to the house where they were all gathered round the Master.

The room was large and gloomy. A single lamp was suspended over the large table, covered with a white cloth, that stood in the centre, around which they were already seated. The Master was so placed that the whole table could see Him. A large dish with the roasted Paschal lamb stood before Him. By its side were the Passover herbs in shallow bowls. On the table were other bowls, and the unleavened bread baked for the festival in remembrance of the manna eaten in the wilderness. Near the centre of the table was a beaker of red wine. They were silent or speaking in whispers, so that the steps of Judas, as he entered, echoed. He was almost terrified by the echo. Then he greeted them in silence with a low bow and sat down, just opposite John, who was at the Master's right hand, while Peter sat at His left.

There was solemn silence. Their first Passover in Jerusalem! Jesus took one of the unleavened cakes, broke it, and laid the pieces down. James divided the lamb into thirteen portions.

"We are thirteen at table," whispered Thaddeus to his neighbour Bartholomew. He was silent. They did not eat, but sat there in silence. The lamp flickered, and the reddish reflection hovered about the table. Then Jesus began to speak.

"Eat and drink. The hour approaches."

John placed his hand tenderly on His, and asked: "What do you mean, Lord, when you say, The hour approaches?"

"My friends," said Jesus, "you will not understand how what will happen this night can come to pass. They will come and condemn Me to death. I shall not flee, for it must be so. I have to bear testimony to the Father in heaven and of His tidings, and therefore I am ready to die. If I were not willing to die for My words, they would be like sand in the desert. If I were not willing to die, My friends would not be justified, and would doubt Me. A good shepherd must lay down his life for his flock."

"Master," said Thomas, and his voice trembled, "not when you live; only when you die, could we doubt you."

Then Jesus looked sadly round the circle, and said: "One among you doubts Me, though I live."

"What do you mean by that, Lord?" asked Judas.

Jesus said: "The Son of Man goes His appointed way. Yet it would be better for that man never to have been born. One of My own people will betray Me this night."

As if struck down by a heavy weight, they were silent for a moment. Then they exclaimed: "Who is it? Who is it?"

"One of the twelve who sits at this table."

"Master!" exclaimed Peter, "what causes that gloomy thought? No one is unfaithful."

Jesus said to him; "Yes, Simon Peter! And another at this table will deny Me before morning cockcrow."

They were silent, for they were all greatly afraid. After a while He continued speaking. "It must happen as the Father in His wisdom has determined. But the time of work begins for you. You will be My apostles, My ambassadors, who will travel over the world to tell all the nations what I have told you. You shall be the salt of humanity, and season it with wisdom. You shall be the yeast which causes it to ferment. To others I have said, Do the good work secretly; to you I say, Let your light shine forth as an example. Be wily as the serpent, and let not hypocrites deceive you; be like clever money-changers, who accept only good coins and refuse the false. Be without guile, like doves, and go forth, innocent as the sheep who go among wolves. If they have persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. Where you sow peace for others, there will be the sword for you. It will also come to pass that your message of peace will awake discord; one brother will dispute with the others, children will be against their parents, because some will be for Me and others against Me. But the time will come when they will be united, one flock under the care of one shepherd. Then there will be a great fire on earth, that of enthusiasm for the Spirit and for Love. Would it were already burning! Do not despair because, with your simplicity and want of eloquence, your ignorance of foreign tongues, you must travel in strange lands. The moment you have to speak, My Spirit will speak through you in burning eloquence. If you are silent, then the stones must speak, so vital is the word that must be spoken. You must speak to the lowly of the glad tidings; you must speak to the mighty who possess the power to kill your body, but not your soul. Days of temptation and persecution will come, I will not cease to implore the Father to stand by you. Be not cast down. If I did not now depart, the Spirit could not come to you. The visible is an enemy of the invisible. I have spoken to you much in parables, so that it may the better remain in your memory. I had still much to say to you; but My Spirit will speak to you, and He will make you understand more easily than when I spoke in parables. Upon you I build My Church; do you open the Kingdom of God to all who seek it. What you do on earth in My name will also hold good in heaven with the Father. And now I give you My peace as the world can never give it. I remain with you in My Spirit and My Love."

* * * * * *

The great words were spoken. A solemn peace fell on their hearts. Judas went out. The rest sat on in silence and looked at the Master with unbounded affection. They could not understand what He had said, but they felt these were words before which the earth would tremble and the heavens bow down.

And now something extraordinary happened. It was not a miracle, it was more than a miracle. Jesus stood up, took a towel and a washing-bowl, knelt before each, and washed his feet. In their astonishment they offered no resistance. When He came to Peter, Peter said, "No, Master, you shall not wash my feet."

To which Jesus replied: "If I do not, then you are not Mine."

Said Peter: "If that is so, then wash my face and hands, too, O Lord! so that it may be evident how utterly I am yours."

Then Jesus said: "You call Me Lord, and yet I wash your feet. I do this so that you may know that among men there is no lord, that all are brethren who shall serve one another. See how I love you. No one can give a greater proof of his love than to die so that his friends may live. So I leave you this legacy: Brothers, love one another. As I love you, love one another."

John, overcome by those words, sank on his knees, and, sobbing, laid his head upon His bosom. And Jesus said once more: "Children, love one another."

Then He again sat down with them at the table. They were all silent. Jesus took bread in His hand, lifted it a little towards heaven that it might be blessed, and broke it in two. He handed the pieces to the right and left of Him, and said: "Take it and eat. It is My body that will be broken for you."

They took it. Then He took the beaker of wine, lifted it to heaven that it might be blessed, passed it round, and said: "Take it and drink. It is My blood that will be shed for you."

And when they had all drunk. He added: "Do this in remembrance of Me."



CHAPTER XXXI

When the disciples separated after the meal, notwithstanding their fears, they did not realise that it was a farewell. They sought their lodgings. Only John, Peter, and James accompanied the Master when He left the town in the dark night and descended the valley to the foot of the Mount of Olives. There was a garden there. White stones lay between the savin trees and the weeping cypresses, fresh spring grass covered the ground. Jesus said to His companions: "Stay here a little." He Himself went farther into the garden. The sky was covered by a thin veil of cloud, so that the moon shed a pale light over the earth. The town on the mountain rose up dark and still; no sound was to be heard except the rippling of the brook Kedron in the valley. Jesus stood and looked up through the trees towards heaven. He breathed heavily, and drops of perspiration stood on His brow. He felt a great agony, an agony He had never before known. Had He not often thought of death, and in His mind felt quite reconciled to it? Did He not know that the Heavenly Father would receive Him? Only He still belonged to this sweet life below, and still the way was open to Him to escape death. Is His soul so weak now that it is troubled by the prospect of the enemy at hand, ready to seize Him? Can He not go over the mountain to Jericho, into the wilderness, to the sea? No, not flight. Of His own free will He is to appear before the judges in order to stand by what He said. Ah! but this surrender to the powers He had offended means death. He sank down on the ground so that His head touched the grass, as if He would draw the earth to Him with eager arms. "Must it be, O Father? Fain would I stay with men in order to bring them nearer to Me. Who will guide My disciples, still so weak? Guard them from evil, but do not take them from the world. Let them live and spread Thy name. If it is possible, let Me stay with them. But if it must be, take this agony of soul from Me and stand by Me. But I must not demand aught, My God, only humbly entreat. If it is Thy will that I shall suffer all human sorrow and pain, then Thy will be done. Accept this sacrifice for all who have provoked Thee. If Thou desirest it, I will take the sins of the world upon Me, and atone for them that Thou mayest pardon. But if it may be avoided, Father, My Father who art in heaven, have mercy on Thy Son, who has proclaimed Thy mercy." So He prayed, and in His infinite distress He longed for His disciples. He went to them and found them asleep. They were sleeping like innocent children, and knew nothing of His terrible struggle. He woke Peter, and said: "I am wellnigh perishing with sorrow. Surely you might watch with Me in this hour."

The disciple pulled himself together with some difficulty and shook the others. But when Jesus looked at the poor fellows. He thought: "What can they do for Me?" He left them and went away, in order to fight through it alone. And again He prayed: "Help Me, Lord; Oh, My God, forsake Me not." But Heaven was silent, the loneliness was intolerable, and lie once more went back to His disciples. They were again fast asleep. They rested so peacefully, tired out by the cruel world, that Jesus thought, Well, let them sleep. Drops, like blood, ran down His forehead and fell on the ground. A third time He turned to the Father: "Forsaken of all, on Thee alone I call. There is none to hear Me in My agony. They are all asleep, and the clash of spears is on the road. Lord God, send Thine angels to protect Me!"

Not a leaf stirred; there was not a breath of air. Heaven remained deaf and dumb.

"It is the silent word of God. To His will I submit."



CHAPTER XXXII

When Judas sat in the room among the twelve, he felt so bewildered and confused that he did not hear all that Jesus said. So he got up, left the room, and rushed through the empty streets of the city. "One of those who sit at this table will betray Me!" He knows men's thoughts. That gives Him power over all. But He does not know how to use that power; He must be driven to that. Judas could think of nothing else. The thought with which hitherto he had only played now took violent possession of his head and heart. He went through the city gate, which was not closed at this Passover time. He would spend the night among the bushes; but see—there goes the Master along the road with three of His disciples. Judas stretched out his head between the branches in order to look after them. They went towards the valley. Were they going to Bethany? Now he knew what to do. He quickly pulled himself together, and went straight off to the Roman captain.

"I know where He is."

"You want money for this Jew?"

"That's not my reason for telling you."

"Yet you tell me."

"Because I can't wait any longer. You will find out who He is, ere long."

"Well, where is He?"'

"I'll go with the soldiers. There are several persons with Him; I will go up to one and kiss his cheek. That will be He."

"How much do you want for this service of love, you brute?" asked the captain.

"Insult away! Seek Him without me. I know what I'm after."

"Well, how much do you want? Are thirty silver pieces enough?"

"The Man is worth more."

"I do not haggle over prices."

"Well, give what you please. I fancy He will cost you very dear."

The bargain was struck. Judas, the treasurer, put the coins in the common purse, and thought: If we had only had this sooner. And now it's hardly any use to us. Then a troop of soldiers placed him in their midst, and, carrying torches, the procession marched out of the town and down into the Valley of Kedron. They crossed the brook, and at the entrance to the garden gate intended to proceed to Bethany. But a swift, curious glance of Judas observed, by the glimmer of the moon, figures lying on the ground under a bush. He stopped, looked, and recognised the brothers. He signed to the soldiers to enter the garden quietly. To walk quietly is the way of traitors, not of warriors. The sound of marching and the clash of swords woke the disciples. A very different awakening from the gentle bidding of the Master! They jumped up and hastened to where He was kneeling.

Judas came forward and said: "Did I frighten you?" Then he went up to Jesus: "You are still awake, Master?" He bent down in greeting, kissed Him lightly on the cheek, and thought in tremulous expectation: Messiah King, now reveal Thyself!

Then the soldiers rushed up. They had been joined by a mob armed with sticks and cudgels, just as when notorious criminals are taken. Jesus went forward a few steps to meet them and offered His hands to them to be bound. John threw himself between, but he was dashed to the ground. James struggled with two of the soldiers; Peter snatched the sword of a third, and hacked at one of the Temple guards so that his ear flew from his body.

"What are you doing?" Jesus called to the disciple. "If you interfere they will kill you. You will conquer not with the sword, but with the word. But you, O people of Jerusalem; you treat Me as shamefully as if I were a murderer. And only five days ago you led Me into the city with palms and psalms. What have I done since then? I sat in the Temple among you. Why did you not take Me then?"

They mocked at Him. "Isn't to-day soon enough for you? Can't you wait any longer for your ladder to heaven? Patience, it is set up already."

When the disciples heard such allusions, and saw the Master calmly surrendering Himself, they drew back. The sticks and spears clashed together, the crowd jogged along, the torches flickered, and so the procession went up to the city.

Judas stood behind the trunk of a tree, looking through the branches at the dread procession, and his eyes started from his head in terror.



CHAPTER XXXIII

The judges were awakened at midnight; the Jewish High Priests that they might accuse Him, the heathen judges that they might condemn Him. The High Priest Caiaphas left his couch right gladly; he was delighted that they had caught Him at last, but he thought that the High Priest Annas should frame the accusation; he was younger, better acquainted with the Roman laws, and would carry through the ticklish business most effectively. He, Caiaphas, would hold himself ready for bearing testimony or sealing documents at any minute. Annas, too, was delighted that the Galilean, who had insulted the Pharisees in the Temple in so unheard-of a fashion, was caught at last. He would settle the matter this very night, before the people, on whom no reliance was to be placed, could interfere. With respect to the accusation, the whole high priesthood of Jerusalem must meet in order to take counsel over this knotty case. As a matter of fact there was nothing they could legally bring against the fellow. His speeches to the people. His proceedings in the Temple were, unfortunately, not sufficient. Some crime—a political one if possible—must be proved against Him, if that heathen, the Roman governor, was to condemn Him.

So they met at the house of Caiaphas to take counsel. They carried innumerable scrolls under their arms, in which were written all manner of things that had occurred since the first appearance of the Nazarene. The Galilean Rabbis especially had sent volumes in order to discredit and expose Him. Yet all this would not be sufficient for the governor. Some definite point must be clearly worked up.

Then Jesus was brought in. His hands were bound, His dress was soiled and torn. His countenance very sad. The crowd had already had proof of His courage. He stood there quietly. Terror He no longer felt, sadness alone lay in His eyes. They turned over the scrolls and spoke together in whispers. It was made known that they would be glad to hear anyone who could bring any evidence against Him. But no one offered. The priests looked at each other in bewilderment. Those who struck Him and insulted Him must surely know why they did it!

At length a deformed man came forward. He was certainly only a poor camel-dealer, but he knew something. The story of the whale! The Galilean said that, just as the whale cast up Jonah after three days, so would He come forth from His grave three days after His death. The man had also said that He would destroy Solomon's Temple, which had taken forty-seven years to build, and rebuild it in three days. Other witnesses could be found to testify to these things.

Some considered, however, that these stories were empty exaggerations, and nothing more.

"They are blasphemy," exclaimed Caiaphas. "Everything He says has a hidden meaning. What He meant was that three days after His death He would rise again, in order to destroy the Kingdom of the Jews and establish a new Kingdom." Then he turned to Jesus: "Did you say that?"

Jesus was silent.

"He does not deny it; He did say it. The wrath of Jehovah which presses heavily on Israel has been evoked by this blasphemer and false prophet. And the guilty creature does not deny it." Then Caiaphas turned to the people who were gathering in increasing numbers in the fore-court: "Let him who knows anything further against Him come forward and speak."

Then several voices exclaimed: "He is a blasphemer, He is a false prophet. He has brought on us the curse of Jehovah!"

"Do you hear?" said the High Priest. "That is the voice of the people! Yet in order to satisfy the nicest of consciences we will permit Him to speak once again that He may defend Himself. Jesus of Nazareth! many know that you have said that you are the Christ, sent by Heaven. Answer clearly and without ambiguity. I ask you, Are you Christ, the Son of God?"

"You say so," replied Jesus.

Again, and in a louder voice, Caiaphas asked: "By all you deem sacred, speak now on oath. Are you the Son of God?"

Then said Jesus to the High Priest: "If you do not believe it now that I stand before you as a malefactor, you will believe it when I come down from heaven in the clouds at the right hand of Almighty God."

When Jesus had spoken these words, Caiaphas turned to the assembly: "What do you want more? If that's not rank blasphemy, I'll resign my office. If that's not blasphemy, then we have punished others, who said less, far too severely. What shall we do with Him?"

Several priests rent their garments in anger, and shouted: "Let Him die!"

The cry was taken up by many voices out in the streets. The priests immediately put things in shape for the sentence to be pronounced that night, and, if possible, carried into effect before the festival, without making a stir.

If the matter had rested with Herod, King of the Jews, he would have rid himself of his rival from Nazareth with a snap of his lingers; but it was the Roman governor with whom they had to deal. So Pontius Pilate also was awakened in the night. He was a Roman, and had been appointed by the Emperor to hold Judaea in spite of Herod, whose Jewish kingdom had become as nothing. Pilate often declared that this office of ruling the Jewish people for the Emperor had been his evil star. He would rather have remained in cultured Rome, whose gods were much more amiable than the perverse Jehovah, about whom all kinds of sects disputed. And then came this Nazarene. When Pilate learnt the reason why he was disturbed from his sleep he cursed. "This stupid business again about the Nazarene who, accompanied by a few beggars, rode into Jerusalem on an ass, and said He was the Messiah. The people laughed at Him. And that's to be made a political case! They should expel Him from the Temple and let people sleep."

But the crowd shouted in front of his windows: "He is a blasphemer! A deceiver and a traitor! An anarchist! He must be tried!" Pilate did not know what to do. Then his wife came, and entreated him not to do anything to Jesus of Nazareth. She had had a horrible dream about Him. She had seen Him standing in a white garment that shone like the moon. Then he had descended into a deep abyss where the souls of the condemned were wailing, had raised them up and led them on high. Then dreadful angels with big black wings had seized the judges, and thrown them into the abyss. Pilate had been among them, and his cry of pain still rang in her ears.

"Don't make my head more confused than it is already with your talking," he commanded. The noise in the street became more threatening every moment.

Jesus was exhausted, and, surrounded by guards, sat down on a stone in the courtyard of Pilate's house. The crowd came up, mocked Him and insulted Him. They draped Him in the torn red cloak of a Bedouin for royal purple, they plucked thorns from a hedge in the neighbouring garden, wove them into a crown, and set it on His head. They broke off a dry reed and put it into His hand as a sceptre. They anointed His cheek with spittle. And then they bowed down to the ground before Him, and sang in a shrill voice: "Hail to Thee, O anointed Messiah-King!" and put out their tongues at Him.

Jesus sat there, calm and unmoved. He looked at His tormentors with sad eyes, not in anger, but in pity.

His disciples, terrified to death, had now come up, but remained outside the walls. Peter was furious over the infamous betrayal that had taken place, and could not understand what had possessed Judas. In sore distress he stood in the farthest courtyard where it was dark. Then a girl tripped up to him on her way to the well for water.

"Here's another!" she shouted. "Why are you standing here? Go and do homage to your King."

Peter turned in the direction of the gate.

"You're one of those Galileans, too," she continued.

"What have I to do with Galilee?" he said.

A gatekeeper interposed: "Of course he is a Galilean. You can see that by his dress. He belongs to the Nazarene."

"I do not know Him," said Peter, and tried to hurry off. The gatekeeper stopped him with the shaft of his spear. "Halt there, you Jew! Your King is seated yonder on His throne. Do homage to Him before He flies into the clouds."

"Let me alone; I do not know the man," exclaimed Peter, and hastened away. As he went out of the gate, a cock crowed just over his head. Peter started. Did He not speak of a cock at supper? "And another will deny me this night just before cock-crow." In a flash the old disciple saw what he had done. From terror that he, too, would be seized, he had lied about his Master, about Him who had been everything to him—everything—everything. Now in His need they had left Him alone, had not even had the courage to acknowledge themselves His supporters. "Oh, Simon!" he said to himself, "you should have stayed by your lake instead of playing at being the chosen of God. He gave me His Kingdom of Heaven and this is how I requite Him!" His life was now so broken that he crept out into the desert. There he threw himself on a stone, wrung his hands, and abandoned himself to weeping.

Jesus was at last brought into the hall before the Governor. When Pilate saw Him in that unheard-of disguise, his temper began to rise. He was not to be waked from His sleep for a joke. Well, the Jews had mocked at their Messiah-King, and He would mock at them through Him.

He heard the accusation but found nothing in it. "What?" he said to the High Priests and their supporters, "I'm to condemn your King? Why, what are you thinking of?" Instead of terrifying the accused with his judicial dignity, he desired to enter into conversation with Him. Although the Nazarene stood there in such wretched plight, He must have something in Him to have roused the masses as He did. He wanted to make His acquaintance. In a friendly manner he put mocking questions to Him. Did he really know anything special of God? Would He not tell him too, for even heathens were sometimes curious about the Kingdom of Heaven? How should a man set about loving a God whom no one had ever seen? Or which among the gods was the true one? And for the life of him he would like to know what truth really was.

Jesus said not a word.

"You do not seem to lack the virtue of pride," continued Pilate, "and that's in your favour. You know, of course, in whose presence you stand, in the presence of one who has the power, to put you to death, or to set you free."

Jesus was still silent.

The crowd which already filled the large courtyard became more and more noisy and unmanageable. Rabbis slipped through it in order to fan the fire, and on all sides sentence of death was eagerly demanded. Pilate shrugged his shoulders. He did not understand the people. But he could not condemn an innocent man to death. He would let the Nazarene just as He was step out on to the balcony. He himself took a torch from a slave's hand to light up the pitiful figure. "Look," he called down to the crowd, "look at the poor fellow!"

"To the gallows with him! To the cross with him!" shouted the crowd.

"If," said Pilate, preserving his ironical tone, "if you do not want to miss your Passover spectacle, go out there; no fear of criminals not being crucified to-day. What do you say to Barabbas, the desert king? O ye men of Jerusalem, be satisfied with one king."

"We want to see this Jesus crucified," raged the people.

"But why, by Jupiter? I cannot see that He is guilty of anything."

One of the High Priests came up to him.

"If you set free this blasphemer, this demagogue, who, so He says, intends to redeem the Jewish nation from bondage, who has the devil's eloquence with which to influence the masses, if you let this man go about among the people again, then you are your Emperor's bitterest enemy. Then we shall ask for a governor who is as true to the Emperor as we are!"

"You would be more imperial than Pontius Pilate!" He threw out that sentence to them, measuring their figures with contempt. Whenever Rome touched any of their chartered rights they seethed with anger; but whenever they needed power to accomplish some purpose hostile to the people, they cringed to Rome. They recognised no people and no Emperor; their Temple-law was all in all to them. And they dared to advise the Governor to be imperial! But the crowd murmured angrily. The storm of passion was increasing in the courtyard. A thousand voices threatening, shouting shrilly, demanded the Nazarene's death. At that moment his wife sent to Pilate and reminded him of her dream. He was inclined to set the accused free at once. Then in the dim light of the torches and the dawning day a dark mass appeared above the heads of the people. It was one of those criminals' stakes with the cross-beam like those erected out at Golgotha, only more massive and imposing. They had dragged the cross here, and when it became visible to the crowd they broke out in heightened fury: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him! Jesus or Pilate!"

"Jesus—or Pilate?" Was that what they shouted?

"Jesus or Pilate?" was re-echoed from courtyard to courtyard, from street to street.

"Do you hear, Governor?" one of the High Priests asked him. "There is nothing else to be done! You see, the people haven't been asleep to-night. They are mad!" So saying, he seized the staff of justice, and offered it to Pilate. He had turned pale at the sight of the raging mob. He signed with his hand that he wished to speak. The tumult subsided sufficiently for his words to be heard, and he shouted hoarsely:

"I cannot find that this man has committed any crime. But you wish to crucify Him. So be it, but His death is on your consciences!" Purposely following the Jewish custom, he washed his hands in a bowl, so that those who could not hear him might see; then holding them up, all dripping wet, before the people, he exclaimed: "My hands are clean from His blood. I accept no responsibility." He seized the staff, broke it in two with his hands, and threw the pieces at Jesus's feet.

Then there arose a storm of jubilation; "Hail to thee, Pilate! Hail to the Governor of the great Emperor! Hail to the great Governor of the Emperor!"

The High Priests humbly bowed before him, and the guards seized the condemned man.



CHAPTER XXXIV

The big cross, carried by insolent youths, swung to and fro above the heads of the people. Every one tried to get out of the way of the sinister thing; if a man, joking, thrust his neighbour towards it, he pushed quickly back into the crowd with a shriek. And the unceasing cry went on: "Hail to Pontius Pilate! To the cross with the Nazarene!"

Jesus was led from the hall into the courtyard, where His guards had to protect Him from the fury of the mob. They led Him up to the cross.

A sentry appeared, and, violently swinging his arm, shouted; "No execution can take place here! Away with Him! No execution can be permitted here!"

"To Golgotha!"

When the youths found that they would have to take the cross back to where they had fetched it, they let it fall to the ground, so that the wood made a groaning noise, and then ran off.

"Let Him carry His own cross!" shouted several voices. The plan commended itself to the guards; they unbound His hands, and placed the cross on His shoulder. He staggered under the load. They beat Him with cords like a beast of burden; He tottered along with trembling steps, carrying the stake on His right shoulder, so that one arm of the cross fell against His breast, held fast there by His hands. The long stake was dragged along the ground. They had tied a cord round His waist by which they led Him. They pulled Him along so violently that He stumbled, and often fell. The crowd which followed tried to do everything they could to hurt Him. So Jesus tottered along, bowed under the heavy weight of the wood. His gown covered with street mud, His head pierced by the thorns so that drops of blood trickled down His unkempt hair and over His agonised face. Never before was so wretched a figure dragged to the place of execution, never before was a poor malefactor so terribly ill-treated on his way to death. And never before had such dignity and gentleness been seen in the countenance of a condemned man as in that of this man. Some women who had got up early out of curiosity to see the procession stood crowded together at the street corner. But when they saw it their mood changed, and they broke out into loud lamentation, over the unheard-of horror. Jesus raised His trembling hand towards them, as if He wished to warn them: "While your husbands murder Me, you are melted to tears. Do not lament for Me, lament for yourselves and for your children, who will have to suffer for the sins of their fathers!" One of the women, heedless of the raging mob, tore the white kerchief from her head, and bent down to Him who was carrying the cross in order to wipe the blood and perspiration from His face. When she got back to her house and was about to wash the cloth, she saw on it—the face of the Prophet. And it seemed as if kindness and gratitude for her service of love looked out from its features at her. The women all came running up to see the miracle, and to haggle to get the cloth that bore such a picture for themselves. But its possessor locked it up in her room.

When Jesus fell beneath the cross for the third time, He was unable to get up again. The guards tugged and pulled Him; the Roman soldiers who accompanied them were too proud to carry the cross for this wretched Jew. So the crowd was invited to chose someone to lift up Jesus and drag the cross along. The only answer was scornful laughter. A hard-featured cobbler rushed out of a neighbouring house, and, almost foaming at the mouth with rage, demanded that the creature should be removed from before his door. "Customers will be frightened away," he cried.

"Let Him rest here for a moment," said one of the soldiers, pointing to the fallen man, whose breast heaved in short, violent spasms.

Then the cobbler swung a leathern strap and struck the exhausted man. He pulled Himself together in order to totter a few steps farther. An old man, full of years and very lonely, stood by. He had come from the desert where great thoughts dwell. He had come to see if Jerusalem was ascending upwards or sinking downwards. He desired its descent, for he longed for rest. The old man stood in front of the cobbler and said to him softly: "Grandson of Uriah! You refuse a brief rest to this poorest of poor creatures? You yourself will be everlastingly restless. You will experience human misery to the uttermost and never be able to rest. The curse of your people will be fulfilled in you—you heartless Jew!"

At that selfsame hour Simeon, the citizen, was sitting alone in his house thinking over his fate, and he was sad. Since the ride into the wilderness, from which he had returned beaten and robbed, he had, following the word of the Prophet from whom he had sought happiness, made many changes in his way of life. Impossible as it had then seemed, much had become possible. He had emancipated his slaves, broken up his harem, given the overflow of his possessions to the needy, and dispensed with all show. And yet he was not happy—his heart was bare and empty. He was pondering the matter when the shouting of the crowd reached him from the street. What was happening so early? He looked down, saw the spears of the soldiers glitter above the people's heads, and noted how one of the malefactors who was to be executed that day was being led out. Simeon was turning away from the disagreeable sight when he saw that the man was carrying the cross Himself, and how, ill-treated by the guards, He became weaker every moment, so that the cross struck noisily against the stones. In a flash he understood. Without stopping to think, he hurried into the street, and pushed his way to the tortured creature in order to help Him. And when he looked into the poor man's worn face, down which a tear ran, he was so overcome with pity that he placed himself under the cross, took it on his shoulder, and carried it along. The crowd howled; insults and mud were thrown at Simeon. He paid no heed, he scarcely observed it. He was absorbed in what he was doing; he only thought of his desire to help the unhappy creature who staggered along beside him to bear His load. A wondrous feeling stirred in him, an eager gladness that he had never known before. All the joy of his life was not to be compared with this bliss; he would have liked to go on for ever and ever by the side of this Man, helping Him to bear His load and loving Him.

Is that it? Is that what men call life? To be where Love is and to do what Love enjoins?



CHAPTER XXXV

Anxiety increased in the quiet house at Nazareth. Mary determined to go to Jerusalem for the holy festival to offer her sorrow as a sacrifice to God, to implore Him to enlighten her erring son, and to restore to Him the faith of His ancestors. As she journeyed through Samaria and Judaea she thought of the days long past, when she had travelled that way to Bethlehem with her faithful Joseph, and of the inconceivable things that had happened since then.

She reached a valley where the earth was grey and dry. It was the place in which Adam and Eve had settled when they were driven out of Paradise. She thought of the wayward children of our first parents, and with her mind's eye saw a dear little descendant of Adam, who was perfectly innocent, and yet had to share earth's sorrow with the guilty. The boy stood sadly by a hedge, and peeped over into the Lost Paradise. A white-robed angel standing by the Tree of Knowledge saw the child and was sorry for him. He broke off a branch from the tree, handed it over to the boy, and said: "Here is something for you out of Paradise. Plant the bough in the ground. It will take root and grow, and produce fresh seeds until the throne of the Messiah is built out of its trunk." "O, God! where is the trunk, and where is the Messiah's throne?" sighed Mary, and she moved away.

When after her tiring journey she reached the town one morning, she found the people streaming along the roads and streets in one direction. She asked the innkeeper what was happening. He replied by asking her if she did not also wish to go and see the execution.

"God forbid!" answered Mary; "happy are all who are not obliged to go."

"Look, there they come!" exclaimed the inn-keeper in glad surprise. "They'll come past here. I really believe it's the Messiah-King! Oh, I could have let out my windows for a silver groat apiece!"

The woman from Galilee wanted to go back into the house, but she was pushed aside and carried with the crowd into the narrow street, where suddenly she stood before Him! Before Jesus, her son! When He saw His mother His little remaining strength nearly forsook Him, but He managed to keep His feet. He turned to her with a look of unspeakable sadness and love, a brief look in which lay all that a son could have to say to his mother at such a meeting. Then they pushed Him on with blows and curses.

Mary stood as if turned to stone. Her eyes were tearless, her head in a whirl, her heart scarcely beat. "That is what God has prepared for me!" That was all she could think, as, unwilling, bewildered, she was carried along by the crowd. Everything seemed sunk in a blue darkness, yet stars danced before her eyes.

At length the procession emerged through the vaulted double gateway into the open. A dim, pale light lay over the barren land. The rocky hill stood out clear on the right. A great stir was there. Busy workmen were digging deep holes on the top, others were preparing the stakes for the desert robbers. Those wild creatures were already half naked, and the executioners were slinging cords round them to bind them to the wooden frame. They were the lean, brown Barabbas and the pale, sunken-eyed Dismas. The former gazed around him with his hawk's eyes, clenched his hands, and tried to burst his fetters. The other was quite broken down, and his unkempt hair hung about him. The disciples had come as far as the tower of the town walls, but had withdrawn in terror, all but John, James, and Peter. For Peter had decided to acknowledge himself a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, should it cost him his life. But no one troubled any further about the strangers. The disciples had seen Judas slinking behind the rocky mounds; he looked abject and forlorn, the very image of despair, and although their rage against the traitor had known no bounds, they were softened by the sight of the miserable creature, regarding him only as an object of horror.

Simeon carried the cross to the top of the hill. And when he laid it down and looked once again into the face of the malefactor who had staggered up beside him, he recognised the Prophet. He recognised the man with whom he had spoken in the desert concerning eternal life. He had then paid scant attention to His words, but he had forgotten none of them. Now he began to understand that whoever lived according to the teaching of this man must attain inward happiness. And was it on account of that teaching that the man was to be executed?

The captain ordered Simeon to move away. Two executioners laid hands on Jesus in order to strip away His garments. He threw one swift glance to Heaven, then closed His eyes, and calmly let them proceed. The guards seized His gown, fought for it, and because they could not agree who had won it they diced for it. Then they accused each other of cheating, and fought afresh. Up came Schobal, the dealer in old clothes, and pointed out with a grin that it was not worth while to crack their skulls over a poor wretch's old coat. The gown was torn and bloody; it was not worth a penny; but in order to end a dispute between his brave countrymen he would offer fourpence, which they could divide in peace among them. The coat was delivered over to Schobal. He went up and down in the crowd with the garment. It was the coat of the Prophet who was being executed! Who wanted a souvenir of that day? He would sell the coat for the half of its value; it might be bought for twelve pence!

A man brought long iron nails in a basket. The Nazarene was not to be tied, but nailed, because He had once said that He should descend from the cross. When they noticed that Jesus was nearly swooning, they offered Him a refreshing drink of vinegar and myrrh. He refused it with thanks, and when He began to sink down the executioners caught Him and laid Him on the cross.

Suddenly the crowd drew back. Many did not want to see what was going on. They were dumb. They had never dreamed of this. The gentleness with which He bore all the torture, the scorn, the death before His eyes, this heroic calm weighed like a mountain on their hard hearts. Those who had formerly despised Him now wanted to hate Him, but they could not. They were powerless before this overwhelming gentleness. What a sound! That of a hammer beating on iron! "How the blood spurts!" whispered someone. Two hammers hit the nails, and at each blow heaven and earth trembled. The crowd held its breath, and not a sound was heard from the town. Nothing but the ringing of the hammer. Then suddenly a heartrending cry was heard in the crowd. It came from a strange woman who had pushed through it and sank to the ground. The mass of people drew away more and more, no one would stand in front, yet each stretched his neck so as to see over the others' heads. They saw the stake lifted up and then sink again. The captain's orders could be heard plainly and clearly. Then the cross stood up straight. At first the long stake was seen above their heads, bearing a white placard. Then the cross-beams appeared on which trembling human arms were seen, then the head moving in agonising pain. Thus did the cross with the naked human body rise in the air. Slowly it rose, supported by poles, and as soon as it stood straight the foot of the cross was set so roughly in its hole that the body shook with a dull groan. The wounds made by the nails in the hands and feet were torn open, the blood ran in dark streams over the white body, down the stake, and dropped on the ground. And from the lips of Him on the cross this loud cry was heard, "O, Father, forgive them, forgive them! For they know not what they do."

A strange murmur arose in the crowd, and those who had not understood the cry asked their neighbours to repeat it. "He asks pardon for His enemies? For His enemies? He is praying for His enemies?"

"Then—then He cannot be human!"

"He forgives those who despised, slandered, scorned, beat, crucified Him? When dying He thinks of His enemies and pardons them? Then it is as He said, He is indeed the Christ! I always thought He was the Christ. I said so only last Sabbath!" The voices grew louder. Schobal, the old clothes dealer, pushed about in the crowd and offered the Messiah's coat for twenty pence.

"If He is the Messiah," shouted a Rabbi hoarsely, "let Him free Himself. He who wants to help others and cannot help Himself is a poor sort of Messiah."

"Now, Master," exclaimed a Pharisee, "if you would rebuild the shattered Temple, now's the time. Come down from the cross, and we'll believe in you." The man on the cross looked at the two mockers in deep sadness, and they became silent. Suddenly a passage in the Scriptures flashed into their minds: "He was wounded for our transgressions!"

When they had all drawn back from the cross, and the executioners were preparing to raise up the two desert robbers, the woman who had swooned, supported by the disciple John, tottered up to the tall cross and put her arms round its trunk so that the blood ran down upon her. So infinite was her pain that it seemed as if seven swords had pierced her heart. Jesus looked down, and how muffled was the voice in which He said: "John, take care of My mother! Mother, here is John, your son!"

A murmur arose in the crowd: "His mother? Is that His mother? Oh, poor things! And the handsome young man His brother? The poor creatures! Look how He turns to them as if He would comfort them."

Many a man passed his hand over his eyes, the women sobbed aloud. And a dull lamentation began to go through the people—the same people who had so angrily demanded His death. And they talked together.

"He can't suffer much longer."

"No, I've had some experience. I've been here every Passover. But this time——"

"If I only knew what is written on the tablet."

"Over His head? My sight seems to have gone."

"Inri!" exclaimed somebody,

"Inri! Somebody calls out 'Inri.'"

"Those are the letters on the tablet."

"But the man's name's not Inri."

"Something quite different, my friend. That is Pilate's joke. Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judaeorum."

"Don't talk to me in that accursed Latin tongue."

"In good Hebrew: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."

"Now, they've got Him in the middle," said another, for the two robbers had been hoisted up to the right and left of Him. The one on the left stretched out his neck, and mocked at Jesus with a distorted face: "I suppose, neighbour, that you too are one of those who get executed just because they are weaklings. Jump from the cross, rush among them, and the wretches will idolise you!"

Jesus did not answer him. He turned His head towards the man who hung on His right who saw the moment approaching when his legs would be broken. In the agony of death, and in penitence for his ill-spent life, he turned to Him whom they called Messiah and Christ. And when he saw the expression with which Jesus looked at him, a curious shudder passed through the criminal's heart. How the man on the cross gazed at him, with His fading eyes—My God!—it was the never-to-be-forgotten holy look which a little child had given him in the days of his youth. Dismas began to weep, and said: "Lord, you are from heaven! When you return home, remember me."

And Jesus said to him: "There is mercy for all who repent! To-day, Dismas, you and I will be together at the Heavenly Father's home."

"He is from heaven!" was heard in the crowd. "He is from heaven!" One of the Roman soldiers threw his spear away, and exclaimed in immense excitement: "Verily, He is the Son of God!"

"The Son of God! The Son of God! Set Him free! It is the Son of God who hangs on the cross!" The cry rolled through the crowd like the dull noise of an avalanche; like a shriek of terror, like the inward consciousness of a fearful mistake, the most fearful that had been made since the world began. He who hangs yonder on the cross is the Son of God. Far below in a cleft of the rock is a poor sinner. He struggles up to his feet, holding on with his lean hands, he looks up to the cross with rolling eyes. A prayer for mercy wells up from his heart like a bloody spring. And beside him a woman kneels and folds her hands against the cross. And she who thus stands under the cross wrings her hands, and implores mercy for her child.

The letters I.N.R.I, over the cross begin to gleam. And a voice is heard in the air: "Jesus Near Redeems Ill-doers."

"The Son of God! The Son of God!" The cry went on without ceasing. "The Son of God on the cross!"

"The Son of God's coat! A hundred gold pieces for the coat!" shrieked old Schobal, lifting the garment up on a stick like a flag. The dealer swore by that flag, for its value had risen a thousandfold in an hour. "A hundred gold pieces for the Son of God's coat!" But it was high time that the dealer made himself scarce, for the people of Jerusalem were enraged at a man who wanted to do business in presence of the dying Saviour. The good, pious citizens of Jerusalem!

Not a High Priest was to be seen. They had all gone away. The hoarse-voiced Rabbi was still there, reciting Psalms aloud to the dying man.

"Stop that!" someone shouted at him. "You killed Him."

"We've killed Him? Who do you mean?" asked the Rabbi with well-feigned innocence.

"Why you, you expounders of the Scriptures, you brought Him to His death; it was you, and you alone!"

The Rabbi replied very seriously: "Think, my friend, what you are saying. Can you prove this charge before the dread Jehovah? We expounders of the Law brought Him to His death! Every one knows who condemned Him. It was the foreigners. They have ever been the ruin of our nation! Every one knows who crucified Him at the desire of the people."

It was high time that he should defend himself. The voices grew ever louder: It was the High Priests who had goaded on the people and judges! They are guilty——

"Silence! He still lives!"

All looks were centred on the cross.

Jesus turned His head to the crowd and muttered in His weakness: "I am thirsty! I am thirsty!"

The captain ordered a sponge to be dipped in vinegar, and reached up to Him on a stick so that the dying man might sip the moisture.

A young woman with her hair flowing loose lay among the rocks. She kneeled, and, supporting her elbows on the ground, wailed softly: "O Saviour, Saviour! My sins!"

He looked once again at His dear ones. Then He lifted His head quickly and uttered a cry to Heaven: "Father, receive My soul! My Father! Do not forsake Me!" He looked upwards, gazed at the heavens with wide-opened eyes, then His head dropped and fell on His breast.

John sank to the ground, covering his face with his hands. All was over!

* * * * * *

The crowd was almost motionless. They stood and stared, and their faces were white. The town walls were dun-coloured, the shrubs were grey, the young buds were pale and closed.

A lustreless sun stood in the sky like a moon, and its shadows were ghostly. Terrified rooks and bats flew around, and hovered about the cross in this horrible twilight. Rocks on the hills broke away, and skulls rolled down the slope. As for the people, they seemed to have lost the power of speech, they stood dumb and looked at one another.

"Something has happened," said an old man to himself.

The crowd began to move, uncertainly at first, then with more animation and noise.

"What has happened?" asked a bystander.

"My friend, what has happened now has thrown the world off its balance. I do not know what it is, but it has thrown the world off its balance. If it is not the end of the world, then it must be its beginning."

"Inri! Inri!" shouted the voice of a shuddering lunatic.

Then there was a general shout. "What is it? It is dark! I've never been so terrified in all my days."

"Look at the cross! It's growing longer! Higher, ever higher, higher! I can't see the top of it! It's a giant cross!"

Then came news. "A pillar has fallen in the Temple. The curtain of the Holy of Holies has been rent in twain. Outside, in the cemetery, the tombs have opened and the dead wrapped in their white shrouds have risen from them."

"The end of the world!"

"The beginning of the world!"

"Jesus Christ!"

* * * * * *

"JESUS CHRIST!" rustles through the crowd like the spring breezes over the desert. The words sound through the whole of Jerusalem, they sound throughout the broad land of Judaea, these words of all power. They kindle a fire which has lighted up the universe until the present day.

His dear and faithful ones assembled at the cross where the dead Master hung. There are more of them than there were yesterday, among them even some who had shouted in the night: "Crucify Him!" The disciples stood there silent, making no lamentation. Mary, the mother, stood by John's side, and Magdalen by him. A marvellous quiet had come over their hearts, so that they asked themselves:

"How can this be? Is not our Jesus dead?"

"My brothers," said Peter, "for me it is as if He still lives."

"He in us, and we in Him," said John.

Only Bartholomew was restless. Hesitatingly he asked James if he had not also understood Him to say: "Father, do not forsake Me." But James was thinking of another word and of another of the brothers. He went away from the cross to seek out Judas. He would tell him that in dying the Master had forgiven His enemies, he would tell Judas of the Saviour's legacy: Mercy for sinners!

Since the early hours of the morning when the Master had been condemned to death in the Governor's house, Judas had wandered aimlessly about. He tried to surrender himself to the captain as a false witness and a spy, as one who sold men for gold. He was laughed at and left alone. Then he went to one of the High Priests to swear that his statements had not been so meant; that his Master was no evil-doer, but rather the Messenger of God, who would destroy His enemies. He had not intended to betray Him, and he would return the traitor's pay to the Pharisee. The latter shrugged his shoulders, saying that it was no concern of his; he had given no money and would receive none. Then Judas threw the silver pieces at his feet and hurried away. His long hair waved in the wind. He slunk along behind the town walls in order to get in advance of the procession and let himself be impaled at Golgotha instead of the Master. But he was too late; he heard the strokes of the hammer. He went down into the valley of Kedron. Not a soul was to be seen there, every one had gone to the place of execution. Judas was thrown aside, even by the gaping crowd, abandoned as a traitor. Frightful, inconceivable, was the thing he had done! Alas! why had He not revealed Himself? He stood patiently, gentle as a lamb before the judges, and bore the cross as no one had ever done before. Could that be it after all? Not to strive against one's enemies, to suffer one's fate as the will of God, to lay down one's life for the tidings of the Father—was that glory the mission of the Messiah? "And I? I expected something else of Him. And I made a mistake, greater than all the mistakes of all the fools put together. And now I am thrust out of the fellowship of righteous men, and thrust out of the fellowship of sinners. There is pardon for the murderer, but not for the traitor. He Himself said: Better that such a man had never been born. Others dare to atone for their sins in caves of the desert, dare to expiate their crimes with their blood—but I am cast out of all Love and all expiation for ever and ever." Such were the endless laments of Judas. He wandered to and fro behind walls and among bushes; he hid himself in caves all the day long. Then suddenly it flashed on him: "It is unjust. I believed in Him. I believed in Him so implicitly. Is such trust thrown away? Can the Divine Man cast aside such a trust? No, it is not so, it is not so!"

His fate was decided by this shattering of his last hope. When it was dark he slunk past a farm. Ropes hung over the walls; he pulled one off and hurried to the mountain. The sun was setting behind Jerusalem, over the heights, like a huge, red, lustreless pane of glass. Once more for the last time his eye sought the light, the departing light. And a cross stood out large and dark against the red circle; the tall cross at Golgotha right in the centre of the gloomy sun. Gigantic and dark it towered against the crimson background—horrible! The despairing heart of Judas could not endure it. With a savage curse he went up to a fig-tree. James was behind him. He had seen Judas climb the slope, had waved his cloak and cried to him: "It is I, James. Brother, I come from the Master. Listen, brother, mercy for sinners. Mercy for all who repent. Listen." Almost breathless he reached the fig-tree. Arms and legs hung down lifeless, the mouth drawn in, the tongue protruding from the lips. The body swung to and fro in the evening breeze. The wretched man had not waited for the Saviour's pardon.

Towards the end of that same day the old man of the East, who came from the desert where great thoughts dwell, the weary old man who called down twice the curse of everlasting unrest on the grandson of Uriah, went to a stonecutter in Jerusalem. He thought it time to order his tombstone. And on it were to be cut the letters "I.N.R.I."

"Did you also belong to the Nazarene?" asked the stonecutter.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Because it is the inscription on His cross."

"It is the inscription on my grave," said the old man, "and it means: 'IN NIRVANA REST I.'"



CHAPTER XXXVI

When all was over, Joseph of Arimathea, a blunt, outspoken disciple of Jesus, went to Pilate, the Governor, to ask him that the Prophet's body might be buried that same evening.