"Master, I have received some grapes for you."

He who was thus addressed pointed to the sleeping youth, lest He should be waked with loud talking. Then he said softly; "James! Shall I forgive the lie for the sake of the good you wish to do me? Who knows anything of me? The grapes were given to you."

"And I will eat them," returned James; "only permit me to eat them in the way in which they taste best to me."

"Do so."

"They taste best to me if I see you eat them."

Jesus took the gift, and said: "If we both satisfy ourselves, my dear James, what will there be for poor John? We are inured to fatigue; he is unaccustomed to it. I think that, of the three of us, it is John who ought to eat the grapes."

Since the long-bearded man offered no objection, John ate the grapes when he awoke. James announced that the fisherman was willing to take them, so they proceeded to the bank and got into the boat.

Simon looked at the tired strangers with sympathy, and vigorously plied his oars. The waves rippled and the rocking skiff glided over the broad expanse of waters which, on the south side, appeared endless. From the way in which the two men spoke to the Master, Simon thought to himself: "A rabbi, and they are his pupils." To the Master's questions regarding his life and trade, the fisherman gave respectful answers, taking care to remark that he had not to complain of overmuch good fortune, for often he fished all day and all night without catching anything, a success he could equally well obtain if he lay all day idle in his boat and let himself be rocked.

The Master asked him with a smile what he would say to fishing for men.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You've already three in your net," said James gaily.

"And God help me!" exclaimed the fisherman, "for we must pray to Him for help to-day. Look over there at the mountains of Hium. Just now it looks so beautifully blue that you would take it for a sunny sky. But the white edges! In an hour there'll be more of them."

"Hoist the sail, fisherman, and bale out," advised James. "I understand something of the business."

"Then you wouldn't say hoist the sail to-day," returned Simon.

"Listen," said James; "you know the river which brings the black sand and the little red fishes with the sharp heads down to this lake from the mountains of Golan. My cottage was by that river—you surely know it?"

"Isn't it there still?" asked Simon.

"It is there, but it is no longer mine," said James. "I have left it in order to follow the Master. Do you know Him, Simon?"

He had whispered the last words behind the back of the Master, who sat silent on the bench, and looked out over the calm waters. He seemed to be enjoying the rest; the breeze played softly with His hair, As a protection from the sun's rays John had fashioned a piece of cloth into a sort of turban and wound it round his head. He looked with amusement at the reflection of the head-dress in the water.

"For whom do you take Him?" asked James, pointing to Jesus.

And the fisherman answered, "For whom do you take that?" He pointed to the distance; he saw the storm. The mountains were enveloped in a grey mist which, pierced by the lightning, moved slowly downwards. Before them surged the foaming waters, the waves white-crested. A gust of wind struck the boat; the water began to beat heavily against it, so that it was tossed about like a piece of cork. Since Simon had not put up the sail there was now no need to reef it. Flakes of foam flew over the spars, the beams groaned. The clouds rushed on, driving the heaving, thundering waves before them. Soon the little boat was overtaken by darkness, which was only relieved by flashes of lightning. Long ago Simon had let go the rudder, and exclaimed, "Jehovah!" Thunder claps were the only answer. Then the fisherman fell on his face and groaned; "He gives no help; I thought as much."

James and John sat close to the Master and tried to rouse Him from the dream into which He had sunk.

"What do you want of Me?"

"Master!" exclaimed James, "you are so entirely with your Heavenly Father that you do not see how terrible is our doom."

"I thought as much," repeated Simon, almost weeping.

Jesus looked at him earnestly, and said: "If you keep on saying: I thought as much, well, then, so it must be. Think rather that God's angels are with you! And you, James! Have you forgotten the trust you had in God on dry land? Yesterday on the quiet eventide, when, well fed and cared for we sat in the inn at Chorazin, you spoke much of trust in God. Trust Him also in distress."

"O Master, I see help nowhere."

"Learn to believe without seeing."

As He spoke a flash of lightning blinded their eyes, and when after a time they were able to look up again, a wild terror seized them. The Master was not there. Now that they no longer saw Him, they shouted loudly; shrieked out His name. Only John remained calm, and looked out into the darkness, wrapt in some bewilderment or trance.

The foam flew into their faces and reduced them to utter confusion; they could only involuntarily hold tight to the beams of the swaying vessel. "Living or dying we will not leave Him," said James. But the Master had left them. It seemed as though He had never existed. They seized the rudder again, and, with the courage of men in the presence of death, wrestled with the storm which seemed disinclined to let its victims go. "God is with us!" exclaimed Simon quickly, and worked with all that remained of his strength. "God is with us!" exclaimed James, and planted the rudder firmly in the water. Only John did not stir. Bending over the side, he stared out into the wild, grey, whirling waters. He espied in the midst a circle of light in which appeared a figure that came nearer, and behold! Jesus was walking on the sea slowly towards the ship. The waves grew smooth under His feet, the sea grew light all over, the rock-towers of Hippos could be seen in the distance, with the evening sun sinking behind them. Jesus sat among His friends, and with kindly words chid them for their despondency.

"Oh, wonderful!" exclaimed James. "While you were with us, we were of little faith, and when we could not see you, we believed."

"'Twas your faith that helped," said James. Then, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder: "And what is My wrapt John dreaming of? I was not yonder in the mist; I was here with you, I tell you, friends: He is blind who sees without believing, and clear-sighted who believes without seeing."



CHAPTER XIV

An earthly light penetrates the holy darkness, and animated scenes at Magdala, on the lake, are visible to me. Fishermen and boatmen, shepherds, artisans from the town, people from the neighbouring villages and from the mountains, are gathered together on the quay where the boats land their passengers. For the rumour has gone forth that the new prophet is coming. And in the chattering crowd it is said that he is a magician from the East who possesses miraculous powers, and can make the sick whole. An amusing thing had happened at Capernaum. The prophet had been there, and a man ill with rheumatism, a beggar who lived on his lame leg, had been dragged in his bed to him. Now the prophet could not endure beggars who nursed their infirmities in order to display them, who pretended poverty, troubled themselves about nothing, and yet wished to live in comfort. The prophet liked to deprive them of their begging tool, namely, the infirmity, so that they were compelled to work. He healed the man's rheumatic leg, and said; "Take up thy bed and walk." And the sick man was much astounded over the turn things had taken; the bed had carried him there, but he must carry the bed back.

Others said the prophet was an Egyptian, and could foretell the future. Whereupon someone observed that if he could not foretell the future he would not be a prophet.

"By Father Abraham!" exclaimed an old ferryman, "if prophets had always foretold truly the universe would have fallen into the sea and been drowned long ago. I can prophesy too; if he comes, well, he'll be here."

"Then he'll soon be here," said a fisher-boy, laughing, "for there he comes."

A boat, tossed up and down on the waves, was approaching, and in it sat four men.

"Which is he?"

"The one with the black beard."

"Oh, that's rubbish! The man with the beard is James, the boatman from the Jordan Valley."

"Then it must be the bald man."

"But, Assam, you surely know Simon the fisherman of Bethsaida, who comes every month to the market here and spoils other men's business with his absurdly low prices."

When they had landed, His companions could scarcely steer a way for Him through the crowd, The people looked at Him; some were disappointed. That prophet was not sufficiently different from themselves. Was it really He? The carpenter of Nazareth! Well, then, we've had a nice run for nothing. We know what He has to say, and what He can do He does not do.

"He will do it, though. He did it in Cana. Bring up the water pitchers—we'll be merry today."

The crowd pressed forward more and more eagerly, for many had come a long distance, and desired to see Him close and hear Him speak.

The evening presented a good opportunity. It was already dark; a torch fixed to the pillar on the shore diffused a dull red light over the surging crowd. Jesus wished to pass on quickly, but He could not. A woman fleeing from her pursuers cast herself at His feet. She was young, her hair streamed loose, her limbs were trembling with fear; she knelt down and put her arms round His legs. He bent down to her and tried to raise her, but she held fast to His feet and could not compose herself. Then the people began to shout: "The traitress, the Bethany serpent, what has she to do with Him?"

Jesus put His hand on her head. He stood up straight and asked aloud: "Who is this woman that you have a right to insult her?"

"Who is she? Ask the son of Job. She's an adulteress. Married but a few weeks ago to the brave old son of Job, her parents' friend, she deceives him with a young coxcomb, the hussy!"

The abuse they hurled against the helpless creature cannot be repeated. It was the women, too, who shouted the loudest; especially one, the wife of a man who made fishing-nets, was so filled with moral indignation that she tore her dress and scattered the rags over the sinner. Words of the most venomous abuse poured from this accuser's mouth in bitter complaint that such a creature should shame the sacred name of woman; she passionately declared her desire that the evil-doer should be stoned. Soon the crowd followed with "Stone her!" and a young porter who stood near the wife of the fishing-net maker stooped to pick up a stone from the road, and prepared to cast it at the sinner. Jesus protected her with His hand, and exclaimed; "Do not touch her. Which of you is without sin? Let him come and cast the first stone."

Unwillingly they let their arms fall, and those who already held stones in their hands dropped them quietly on to the ground. But Jesus turned to the persecuted woman and said: "They shall not harm you. Tell me what has happened."

"Lord!" she whimpered, and clasped His feet afresh, "I have sinned! I have sinned!" and she sobbed and wept so that His feet were damp with her tears.

"You have sinned!" He said in a voice, the gentle sound of which went to many a heart—"sinned. And now you are sorry. And you do not try to vindicate yourself. Get up, get up! Your sins will be forgiven."

"How? What?" grumbled the people. "What's this we hear? He speaks kindly to the adulteress. He pardons her sin. This prophet will indeed find followers."

When Jesus heard their grumbling He said aloud: "I tell you I am like a shepherd. He goes out to search for a lost lamb. He does not fling it to the wolves, but takes it home to the fold that it may be saved. I do not rejoice over the proud, but over the repentant. The former sink down; the latter rise up. Listen to what I tell you. A certain man had two sons. One was of good disposition and took care of his property. The other was disobedient, and one day said to his father: 'Give me my share of the substance; I wish to go to a far country.' The father was sorry, but as the young man insisted he gave him his share, and he went away. So while one brother worked and gained and saved at home, the other lived in pleasure and luxury, and squandered his property out in the world, and became so poor that he had to be a swineherd and eat husks with the sows. He got ill and wretched, and was despised by every one. Then he remembered his father, whose meanest servant lived in plenty. Utterly downcast and destitute, he returned home, knelt before his father, and said: 'Father, I have sinned deeply! I am no longer worthy to be your son; let me be your meanest servant.' Then his father lifted him up, pressed him to his heart, had him robed in costly garments, ordered a calf to be slaughtered and the wineskins to be filled in readiness for a banquet, and invited all his family to it that they might rejoice with him. All came except his other son. He sent a message to say that he had faithfully served his father all his life, yet no calf or buck had been slaughtered on his account. He found more honour in eating bread and figs alone in his room than in sitting at the banquet table with idle fellows and spendthrifts. Then his father sent to him and said: 'Wrong, wrong you are! Your brother was lost and is found. Look to it that your envy turns not to your loss. Come and be merry with me!' I tell you that the Heavenly Father rejoiceth more over a sinner that repenteth than over a righteous man."

Then a Pharisee stepped out from the crowd, wrapped his cloak round him with much dignity, and uttered the saying of a Jewish scholar: "Only the righteous man shall stand before God!"

To which Jesus replied; "Have you not heard of the publican who kneeled backwards in the Temple, and did not venture to approach the altar because he was a poor sinner? The Pharisee stands proudly by the altar and prays: 'Lord, I thank thee that I am not wicked like that man in the corner!' But when they went forth from the Temple, the publican's heart was full of grace, and the Pharisee's heart was empty. Do you understand?"

Thereupon several of them drew back. Jesus bent over the penitent and said: "Woman, rise and depart in peace!"

The people were outwardly rather calmer. Inwardly they were still restless, but they began now to be a little more satisfied with Him.

Meanwhile James had to settle with the fisherman about payment for the voyage. Simon covered his face with his mantle, and said with gentle rebuke: "Do not mock me. I have been punished enough. I am ashamed of my cowardice. I see now that I'm neither a fisherman nor a sailor, but a mere useless creature. This man whom you call Master, do you know what has come over me, thanks to Him? He who saw Him in the storm, and heard His words about sinners, leaves Him not again. No, I have never seen any like Him, If only Manasseh, the fisherman and his daughter, and my brother Andrew had been there!"

"They will come directly," said James.

"How comes it, James," asked the fisherman, "that you are with this man and dare to follow Him?"

"That is quite simple, my friend. I merely follow Him. Whoever pleases can have my little property. I follow Him."

"But whither, James, whither are you journeying?" And James answered: "To the Kingdom of God: to eternal life."

Then the fisherman, with trembling hand, felt for James's arm, and said: "I will go too."

An hour had scarcely passed before a fresh tumult arose. It came from the house of the maker of fishing-nets. He and a neighbour were hauling the former's wife along, the same woman who had been so indignant against the adulteress shortly before. It was suggested that she should be brought to the prophet, but her husband said: "He is a bad judge in such matters," and wished to take her down to the lake. But the people crowded round Jesus, and told Him what had happened. The woman had been caught with Joel, the porter. The accused struck out round her, violently denied the charge, and bit her husband, who had hold of her, in the hand. Others came up and confirmed the accusation. The woman blasphemed, and reduced her husband to silence by proclaiming his crimes.

Jesus burned with anger. He exclaimed in a loud voice: "Cursed be the hypocrite and the faithless, and the violent! Justice, judgment for such as her!"

Then the woman shrieked: "You speak of justice, you who yourself recognise no justice! Is it just that you should bless one of two lovers, and curse the other?"

And Jesus: "I tell you: he who repents is accepted; he who will not repent is cast out."

Then He turned round, and, wrapt in thought, walked along the bank in the mild night. Simon, the fisherman, followed Him. He touched His wide sleeve and implored: "Master, take me too."

Jesus asked him: "What do you seek with Me, Simon, the fisherman? If anyone seeks a polished crystal and finds a rough diamond, he is vexed; he does not recognise its value. Look at this obdurate woman; she says that I am not just because I am severe. To-morrow ten of the corrupt may shout, the day after a hundred; yet ere long he who is applauded to-day may be surrounded by cruel enemies, and with him those who support him. My word ruins the worldly and My mercy annoys the powerful. They will destroy with fire and sword the seeds which I sow. Simon, you did not strike Me as one of the strongest on the sea. I demand not a little. If you will come to Me, you must abandon everything that is now yours. You cannot have Me and the world. If you can make sacrifices, if you can forget, if you can suffer, then come with Me. Yes, and if you can die for Me, then come."

"Master, I will go with you."

"If you can do that, then the burden will be easy; then you will have the peace which none finds in the world."

"Master," exclaimed Simon, loudly, "I will go with you."

Others who had followed Him along the bank heard the decision. They marvelled at the words that had passed, and the erring woman whom He had protected would not leave Him.

In the distance the clamour could still be heard, but gradually the crowd dispersed. Jesus then sought lodging for Himself and His disciples.



CHAPTER XV

A short time after, some of those who had formed the crowd at Magdala were gathered together in the house of the Rabbi Jairus. They were watching the dead. For in the centre of the room, on a table, lay the body of the Rabbi's daughter shrouded in white linen. Her father was so cast down with grief that his friends knew not how to console him. Then someone suggested calling in Jesus of Nazareth, whom they had just seen resting with His followers under the cedars of Hirah. They narrated the miracles that He had lately worked. On the road leading to Capernaum a man was lying side by side with his little son, into whom had entered the spirit of epilepsy. The child had fallen down and foamed at the mouth, and his teeth and hands were so locked together that his father, in his despair, all but strangled him. He had already taken the child to the disciples of Jesus, but they had not been able to help him. Then he sought the Master and exclaimed angrily: "If you can do anything, help him!" "Take heed that we do not all suffer because of him," the prophet said, and then made the child whole. And they told yet more. On the other side of the lake He had made a deaf-mute to speak, and at Bethsaida had made a blind man to see. But, above all, every one knew how at Nain He had brought back a young man to life who had already been carried out of the house in his coffin! A wine-presser was there who told something about an old woman who had vehemently prayed the prophet to cure her sickness. Thereupon Jesus said: "You are old and yet you wish to live! What makes this earth so pleasing to you?" and she replied: "Nothing is pleasing to me on this earth. But I do not want to die until the Saviour comes, who will open the gates of Heaven for me." And He: "Since your faith is so strong, woman, you shall live to see the Saviour." Thereupon she rose up and went her way. These were the things He did, but He did not like them to be talked about.

Such was the talk among the people gathered round the little girl's corpse. Among the company was an old man who was of those who liked to display their wisdom on every possible occasion. He declared that faith and love, nothing else, produced such miracles. No miracle-worker could help an unbeliever; but a man whom the people loved could easily work miracles. "They forget all his failures, and remember and magnify all his successes. That's all there is in it."

A man answered him: "It is important that he should be loved, but the love is compelled by some mysterious power. No one can make himself beloved of his own accord, it must be given him."

They determined, thanks to all this talk—a mingling of truth and error—to invite the prophet to the house.

When Jesus entered it, He saw the mourning assembly, and the Rabbi, who pulled at his gown until he tore it. He saw the child lying on the table ready for burial, and asked: "Why have you summoned Me? Where is the dead girl?"

The Rabbi undid the shroud so that the girl lay exposed to view. Jesus looked at her, took hold of her hand, felt it, and laid it gently down again. "The child is not dead," He said, "she only sleepeth."

Some began to laugh. They knew the difference between death and life!

He stepped up to them, and said: "Why did you summon Me if you do not believe in Me? If you have assembled here to watch the dead, there's nothing for you to do."

They crept away in annoyance. He turned to the father and mother: "Be comforted. Prepare some food for your daughter." Then He took hold of the child's cold hand, and whispered: "Little girl! Little girl! wake up, it is morning."

The mother uttered a cry of joy, for the child opened her eyes. He stood by, and they seemed to hear Him say: "Arise, my child. You are too young to have gained heaven yet. The Father must be long sought so that He may be the more beloved. Go your way and seek Him."

When the girl, who was twelve years old, stood on her feet, and walked across the floor, the parents almost fell on Jesus in order to express their thanks. He put them aside. "I understand your gratitude. You will do what I do not wish. You will go to the street corners and exclaim: 'He raised our child from the dead'; and the people will come and ask Me to heal their bodies, while I am come to heal their souls. And they will desire Me to raise the dead, while I am here to lead their spirits to eternal life."

"Lord, how are we to understand you?"

"When in good time you shall have learned how little the mortal body and earthly life signify, then you will understand. If, as you say, I have raised your child from the dead, what thanks do you owe Me? Do you recognise what he who calls back a creature from happiness to misery does?

"You said yourself, Master, that the child was too young to gain heaven yet."

"She has not gained it; she possessed it in her innocent heart. She will become a maiden, and a wife, and an old woman. She will lose heaven and seek it in agony. It will be well for her if then she comes to the Saviour and begs: 'My soul is dead within me, Lord; wake it to eternal life.' But if she comes not—then it would be better that she had not waked to-day."

The mother said in all humility: "Whatsoever Thou doest, Master, that is surely right."

He went to the table where the child was comfortably eating her food, laid His hand on her head, and said: "You have come to earth from heaven, now give up earth for heaven; what is earned is greater that what is given."

So the wife of Rabbi Jairus heard as Jesus went out of the door.

They remained His adherents until near the days of the persecution.



CHAPTER XVI

About the same time things began to go ill with Levi, the tax-gatherer, who lived on the road to Tiberias. One morning his fellow-residents prepared a discordant serenade for him. They pointed out to Levi with animation, from the roof of his house, in what honour he was held, by means of the rattling of trays and clashing of pans, since he had accepted service with the heathen as toll-keeper and demanded money even on the Sabbath.

The lean tax-gatherer sat in a corner of his room and saw the dust fly from the ceiling, which seemed to shake beneath the clatter. He saw, too, how the morning sun shining in at the window threw a band of light across the room, in which danced particles of dust like little stars. He listened, and saw, and was silent. When they had had enough of dancing on the roof they jumped to the ground, made grimaces at the window, and departed.

A little, bustling woman came out of the next room, stole up to the man, and said: "Levi, it serves you right!"

"Yes, I know, Judith," he answered, and stood up. He was so tall that he had to bend his head in order not to strike it against the ceiling. His beard hung down in thin strands; it was not yet grey, despite his pale, tired face.

"They will stone you, Levi, if you continue to serve the Romans," exclaimed the woman.

"They hated me even when I did not serve the Romans," said the man. "Since that Feast of Tabernacles at Tiberias when I said that Mammon and desire of luxury had estranged the God of Abraham from the chosen people, and subjected them to Jupiter, they have hated me."

"But you yourself follow Mammon," she returned.

"Because since they hate me I must create a power for myself which will support me, if all are against me. It is the power with which the contemned man conquers his bitterest enemies. You don't understand me? Look there!" He bent down in a dark corner of the chamber, lifted an old cloth, and displayed to view a stone vessel like a mortar. "Real Romans," he said, grinning; "soon a small army of them. And directly it is big enough, the neighbours won't climb on to the roof and sing praises to Levi with pots and pans, but with harps and cymbals."

"Levi, shall I tell you what you are?" exclaimed the woman, the muscles of her red face working.

"I am a publican, as I well know," he returned calmly, carefully covering his money chest with the cloth. "A despised publican who takes money from his own people to give to the stranger, who demands toll-money of the Jews although they themselves made the roads. Such a one am I, my Judith! And why did I become a Roman publican? Because I wished to gain money so as to support myself among those who hate me."

"Levi, you are a miser," she said. "You bury your money in a hole instead of buying me a Greek mantle like what Rebecca and Amala wear."

"Then I shall remain a miser," he replied, "for I shall not buy you a Greek mantle. Foreign garments will plunge the Jews into deeper ruin than my Roman office and Roman coins. It is not the receipt of custom, my dear wife, that is idolatry, but desire of dress, pleasure, and luxury. Street turnpikes are not bad at a time when our people begin to be fugitives in their own land, and with all their trade and barter to export the good and import the evil. Since the law of Moses respecting agriculture there has been no better tax than the Roman turnpike toll. What have the Jews to do on the road?"

"You will soon see," said Judith. "If I don't have the Greek mantle in two days from now, you'll see me on the road, but from behind."

"You don't look bad from behind," mischievously returned Levi.

The knocker sounded without. The tax-gatherer looked through the window, and bade his wife undo the barrier. She went out and raised a piercing cry, but did not unclose the barrier. Several men had come along the road, and were standing there; the woman demanded the toll. A little man with a bald head stepped forward. It was the fisherman from Bethsaida. He confessed that they had no money. Thereupon the woman was very angry, for it was her secret intention thenceforth to keep the toll money herself in order to buy the Greek purple stuff like that worn by Rebecca and Amala.

When Levi heard her cry, he went out and said: "Let them pass, Judith. You see they are not traders. They won't do the road much damage. Why they've scarcely soles to their feet."

Then Judith was quiet, but she took a stolen glance at one of the men who stood tall and straight in his blue mantle, his hair falling over his shoulders, his pale face turned towards her with an earnest look. "What a man? Is something the matter with me? Perhaps he misses the Greek mantle that he sees other women wear?"

"How far have you come?" the toll-keeper asked the men.

"We've come from Magdala to-day," replied Simon, the fisherman.

"Then it is time that you rested here a little in the shade. The sun has been hot all day."

When Judith saw that they were really preparing to avail themselves of the invitation, she hastened to her room, adorned herself with gay-coloured stuffs, a sparkling bracelet, and a pearl necklace that she had lately acquired from a Sidonian merchant. She came out again with a tray of figs and dates. The tall, pale man—it was Jesus—silently passed on the tray, and took no refreshment Himself. His penetrating glance made her uneasy. Perhaps He would let Himself be persuaded. She placed herself before Him, more striking and bold in her splendour.

"Woman," He said suddenly, "yonder grows a thistle. It has prickles on the stem and the flower, it is covered with the dust of the highway and eaten away by insects. But it is more beautiful than an arrogant child of man."

Judith started violently. She rushed into the house, and slammed the door behind her so that the walls echoed. The tax-gatherer gave the speaker an approving glance, and sighed.

Then Jesus asked him: "Are you fond of her?"

"She is his neighbour!" observed a cheerful-looking little man who formed one of the band of travellers. The jesting word referred to the Master's speech of the day before on love of one's neighbour.

Levi nodded thoughtfully and said: "Yes, gentlemen, she is my nearest—enemy."

"Isn't she your wife?" asked Simon.

Without answering him, the tax-gatherer said: "I am a publican, and blessed with mistrust as far as my eye can reach. Yet all those without do not cause me as much annoyance as she who is nearest me in my house."

One of the men laid his hand on his shoulder: "Then, friend, see that she is no longer your nearest. Come with us. We have left our wives and all the rest of our belongings to go with Him. Don't you know Him? He is the man from Nazareth."

The publican started. The man of whom the whole land spoke, the prophet, the miracle-worker? This young, kindly man was He? He who preached so severely against the Jews? Didn't I say almost the same, that time at the Feast of Tabernacles? And yet the people were angry. They listen reverently to this man and follow Him. Shall I do so too? What hinders me? I, the much-hated man, may be dismissed the service at any moment. I may be driven from my house to-day, as soon as to-morrow? And my wife, she'll probably be seen on the road from behind? There's only one thing I can't part with, but I can take that with me.

Then, he turned to the Nazarene, held the tray with the remains of the fruit towards Him: "Take some, dear Master!"

The Master said gently, in a low voice: "Do you love Me, publican?"

The tax-gatherer began to tremble so that the tray nearly fell from his hands. Those words! and that look! He could not reply.

"If you love Me, go with Me, and share our hardships."

"Our joys, Lord, our joys," exclaimed Simon.

At that moment a train of pack-mules came along the road. The drivers whipped the creatures with knotted cords, and cursed that there was another turnpike. The tax-gatherer took the prescribed coins from them, and pointed out their ill-treatment of the animals. For answer he received a blow in his face from the whip. Levi angrily raised his arm against the driver. Then Jesus stepped forward, gently pulled his arm down, and asked: "Was his act wrong?"

"Yes!"

"Then do not imitate it."

And the little witty man again interposed: "If you go with us, publican, you'll have two cheeks, a right and a left. But no arm, do you understand?"

The remark had reference to a favourite saying of the Master when He was defenceless and of good-cheer in the presence of a bitter enemy. Several received the allusion with an angry expression of countenance.

"But it is true," laughed the little man. "The Master said: 'Let Thaddeus say what he likes. He suffered yesterday in patience the wrath of an Arab.'"

"Yes, indeed; because they found no money, they beat Thaddeus."

"If we meet another of that sort, we'll defend ourselves," said the publican, "or robbery 'll become cheap."

"It's easy to see, tax-gatherer, that you haven't known the Master long," said the little man whom they called Thaddeus. "We and money, indeed!"

Then the Master said: "A free soul has nothing to do with Mammon. It's not worth speaking of, let alone quarrelling over. Violence won't undo robbery. If you attempt violence, you may easily turn a thief into a murderer."

While they were talking the publican went into his house. He had made his decision. He would quietly bid his wife farewell, put the money in a bag and tie it round his waist. He did not do the first, because Judith had fled by the back door; he did not do the second, because Judith had emptied the stone vessel and taken the money with her.

Levi came sadly from the toll-house, went up to Jesus, and lifted his hands to heaven: "I am ready, Lord; take me with you."

The Master said: "Levi Matthew, you are mine."

Thaddeus came with the tray of fruit. "Brother, eat of your table for the last time. Then trust in Him who feeds the birds and makes the flowers to grow."

As they went together along the dusty road, the new disciple related his loss.

Simon exclaimed cheerfully: "You're lucky, Levi Matthew! What other men give up with difficulty has run away from you of itself."

That day the toll-house was left deserted, and the passers-by were surprised to find that the road between Magdala and Tiberias was free.



CHAPTER XVII

In this way there gathered round the carpenter of Nazareth more disciples and friends, who wished to accompany Him in His wanderings through the land. For Jesus had decided. He desired only to wander through the land and bring men tidings of the Heavenly Father and of the Kingdom of God. He appointed some of His disciples to prepare for Him a reception and lodging everywhere. Then there were the assemblies of the people to regulate; and the disciples, so far as they themselves understood the new teaching, must act as interpreters and expositors for those who could not understand the Master's peculiar language. Among those was John, the carpenter, who had once been an apprentice to Jesus, a near relative of the Master. Other of His disciples were called James, he was the boat-builder; then Simon, Andrew, and Thomas, the fishermen; Levi Matthew, the publican; Thaddeus, the saddler; and further—but my memory is weak—James, the little shepherd; Nathan, the potter; and his brother Philip, the innkeeper from Jericho; Bartholomew, the smith; and Judas, the money-changer from Carioth. Like Simon and Matthew, they had all left their trades or offices to follow with boundless devotion Him they called Lord and Master.

How shall I dare to describe the Master! His personality defies description. It left none cold who came in contact with it. It was attractive not only by humility and gentleness, but more by active power, and by such sacred and fiery anger as had never before been seen in any one. People were never tired of looking at the man with the tall, handsome figure. His head was crowned with lightly curling, reddish, bright-looking hair, which hung down soft and heavy at the side and back, and floated over His shoulders. His brow was broad and white, for no sunbeam could penetrate the shade formed by His hair. He had a strong, straight nose, more like that of a Greek than of a Jew, and His red lips were shaded with a thick beard. And His eyes were wonderful, large, dark eyes, with a marvellous fire in them. Ordinarily it was a fire that burnt warm and soft, but at times it shone with a great glow of happiness, or sparkled with anger, like a midsummer storm by night in the mountains of Lebanon. On that account many called Him "fiery eye." He wore a long, straight gown, without hat or staff. He generally wore sandals on His feet, but sometimes He forgot to put them on, for in His spiritual communings He did not perceive the roughness of the road. So He wandered through the stony desert, as through the flowery meadows of the fertile valleys. When His companions complained of the storm or heat, and tore their limbs on the sharp stones and thorns, He remained calm and uncomplaining. He did not, like the holy men of the East, seek for hardships, but He did not fear them. He was an enemy of all external trappings, because they distracted the attention from the inner life, and by their attractions might induce a false appearance of reality. He gladly received invitations to the houses of the joyful, and rejoiced with them; at table He ate and drank with moderation. He added to the pleasures of the table by narrating parables and legends, by means of which He brought deep truths home to the people. Since He left the little house at Nazareth, He possessed no worldly goods. What He needed in His wanderings for Himself and His followers, He asked of those who had possessions. His manner was often rough and spiced with bitter irony, even where He proved Himself helpful and sympathetic. Towards His disciples, whom He loved deeply—expecially young John—He always showed Himself absorbed in His mission to make strong, courageous, God-fearing men out of weak creatures. He was so definite about what He liked and what He disliked, that even the blindest could see it. He suffered no compromise between good and evil. He specially disliked ambiguous speakers, hypocrites, and sneaks; He preferred to have to do with avowed sinners.

One of His fundamental traits was to be yielding in disposition, but unflinching in His teaching. He avoided all personal dislikes, hatreds, all that might poison the heart. His soul was trust and kindness. So high did He rank kindness, and so heavily did he condemn selfishness, that one of His disciples said, to sin from kindness brought a man nearer to God than to do good through selfishness. The hostility and reverses He met with He turned into a source of happiness. Happiness! Did not that word come into the world with Jesus?

"He is always talking of being happy," someone once said to John. "What do you understand by being happy?"

John replied; "When you feel quite contented inwardly, so that no worldly desire or bitterness disturbs your peace, when all within you is love and trust, as though you were at rest in the eternity of God and nothing can trouble you any more, that is, as I take it, what He means by being happy. But it cannot be put into words, only he who feels it understands."

And Jesus possessed, too, the high sense of communion with God, which he transmitted to all who followed Him. But I should like to add that where Jesus was most divine, there He was most human. In thrusting from Him all worldly desire, all worldly property, and worldly care, He freed Himself from the burden which renders most men unhappy. In communion with God He was at once a simple child, and a wise man of the world. No anxiety existed about accidents, perils, loss and ruin. Everything happened according to His will, because it was the will of God, and He enjoyed life with simplicity and a pure heart. Is not that the true human lot? And does not such a natural, glad life come very near to the Divine?

Thus, then, He followed the Divine path across that historic ground which will be known as the Holy Land to the end of time.

And now that great day, that great Sabbath morning came.

For a long time damp, grey mists had hung over the valleys of Galilee; banks of fog had hovered over the mountains of Lebanon; showers of cold rain fell. But after the gloom dawned a bright spring morning. From the rocky heights a fertile land was visible. Green meadows watered by shining streams adorned the valleys, and groups of pines, fig trees, olive trees, and cedars, the slopes and the hill-tops. Vines and dewy roses were in the hedges. A full-voiced choir of birds and fresh breezes from the Lake filled the soft air. Westwards the blue waters of the Mediterranean might be discerned, and in the east, through distant clefts in the rocks, the shimmer of the Dead Sea. Southwards lay the plain, and the yellowish mounds which marked the beginning of the desert. And towards the west the snow peaks of Lebanon were visible above the dark forest and the lighter green of the slopes. A perfect sunny peacefulness lay over everything.

The flat rocks of the gentler slopes were crowded with people, many of whom had never seen this district. And they still came from every village and farm. Instead of going as usual to the synagogue, they hastened to this mountain height. Instead of seeking soft repose, as their desire of comfort bade them, they hurried thither over stocks and stones. Instead of visiting friend or neighbour they all climbed the heights together. For they knew that Jesus was there, and would speak. And so they stood or sat on the flat stones—men and women, old and young, rich and poor. Many only came out of curiosity, and passed the time in witty sallies; others jested together; others, again, waited in silent expectation. Those who already knew Him whispered excitedly, and Simon said to James; "My heart has never beat so violently as to-day."

And Jesus stood on the summit of the mountain. As if all men were turned to stone at sight of Him, a silence and stillness now took the place of the subdued murmur of the crowd. He stood in His long, light-coloured gown, like a white pillar against the blue sky. His left hand hung motionless by His side, the right was pressed against His heart. He began to speak softly, but clearly. Not in the even tone of a preacher, but quickly and eagerly, often hesitating a moment while collecting His thoughts for a pregnant saying. It was not as if He had thought out His speech beforehand, or learned it out of books. What His own individual temperament had originated, what time had matured in Him, He poured forth in the rush of the Holy Spirit.

"I am sent to make appeal to you. I come to all, but especially to the poor. I come to the afflicted, to the distressed, to the sick, to the imprisoned, to the cast down. I come with glad tidings from the Heavenly Father."

After this introduction He, in His humility, looked out into the great world of Nature, as if she would supply Him with words. But Nature was silent; indeed, at that hour, all creatures were silent and listened.

Then Jesus lifted His eyes to the crowd, and began to speak as men had never heard any one speak before.

"Brothers! Rejoice! Again I say, Rejoice! A good Father lives in heaven. His presence is everywhere, His power is boundless, and we are His children whom He loves. He makes His sun to shine over all; He overlooks no one. He sees into the dark recesses of all hearts, and no one can move a hair's breadth without His consent. He places freely before men happiness and eternal life. Listen to what I say to you in His name:

"All ye children of men who seek salvation, come to Me. I bless the poor, for no earthly burden can keep them from the Kingdom of Heaven. I bless the suffering, the afflicted, disappointed—abandoned by the world they take refuge in life in God. I bless the kind-hearted and the peace-loving. Their hearts are not troubled with hate and guilt; they live as happy children of God. I bless those who love justice, for they are God's companions, and shall find justice. I bless the pure in heart. No bewildering desire obscures the face of God from them. I bless the merciful. Sympathetic love gives strength, brings compassion where it is needed. And blessed, thrice blessed, are you who suffer persecution for the sake of righteousness. Yours is the Kingdom of Heaven. Rejoice and be glad, all of you—no eye hath yet seen, no ear hath yet heard the joys that are laid up for you in heaven. Now hear My mission. Many say I wish to change the old laws. That is not so. I come to fulfil the old laws, but according to the spirit, not according to the letter. The learned men who preach in the synagogues fulfil it according to the letter, and desire to guide the people; but if you do as they, you will not be righteous, nor will you find the Kingdom of God. The wise men say, you shall not kill. I say, you shall not get angry, or be contemptuous. He who grows angry and censorious shall himself be judged. Your pious gifts are of no avail if you live at enmity with your neighbour. In the law of the sages it is written, you shall not commit adultery. I say, you shall not even think of breaking your marriage vows. Rather should you become blind than let your eye desire your neighbour's wife. Better lose your sight than your purity. Rather cut off your hand than reach it after your neighbour's goods. Better lose your strength than your virtue. It is said in the Law, you shall not swear falsely. I say, you shall not swear at all, either by God, or by your soul, or by your child. Yes or no, that is enough. Now say whether I change the laws. Rather do I desire the strictest obedience to them. But there are laws which I do change. Listen; An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I say you shall not treat your adversary in a hostile fashion. What you can in justice do for yourself, that do, but go no farther; it is a thousand times better to suffer wrong than to do wrong. Overcome your enemy with kindness. If any one smites you on the right cheek, keep your temper and offer him the left. Maybe that will disarm his wrath. If any one tears off your coat ask him kindly if he would not like the undergarment too? Perhaps he will be ashamed of his greediness. If any asks you for something that you can grant, do not refuse him, and if you have two coats give one to him who has none. In the law of the sages it is said: Love your neighbour; hate your enemy. That is false. For it is easy enough to love them that love you, and hate them that hate you. The godless can manage so much. I tell you, love your neighbour, and also love your enemy. Listen, my brothers, and declare it throughout the whole world what I now say to you: Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you."

He stopped, and a stir went through the assembly. Words had been spoken the like of which had not before been heard in the world. A holy inspiration, as it were, entered the universe at that hour such as had not been felt since the creation.

Jesus continued speaking: "Do good to those who hate you; that is how God acts towards men, even when they mock at him. Try to imitate the Father in heaven in all things. What good ye do, do it for the sake of God, not for the sake of men. Therefore the second commandment is as important as the first. Love God more than everything, and your neighbour as yourself. But you shall not boast of your good works. When you give alms, do it secretly, and speak not of it, so that the left hand knows not what the right hand doeth. If you do not give up the goods of this world, you will not attain to the Kingdom of Heaven. If you fast, do not wear a sad face. Be cheerful; what matters it that others should know that you fast? If you do not keep the Sabbath holy, you cannot see the Father. But when you pray, do it secretly in your chamber; you are nearest your Father in heaven in quiet humility. Use not many words in your praying as idolaters do. Not he who constantly praises the Lord finds Him, but he who does His will. Lift up your heart in trust, and submit to the will of Him who is in heaven. Honour His name, seek His kingdom. Ask pardon for your own fault, and be careful to pardon him who offends against you. Ask that you may receive what you require for your needs each day, so that you may find strength against temptation, and freedom from impatience and evil desire. If you pray thus, your prayer will be heard; for he who asks in the right way shall receive, and for him who continually knocks shall the gate be opened. Is there a father among you who would give his child a stone when he asks for bread? And if a poor man grants his child's request, how much more the mighty, good Father in heaven. But be not too anxious for your daily needs: such anxiety spoils pure pleasure. If you heap up material goods, then death comes. Gather not the treasures which pass away; gather spiritual treasures to your inner profit, treasures which your Heavenly Father stores up into life eternal. Such a store will benefit the souls of those who come after you. Man is so fashioned that his heart always inclines to his possessions; if his possessions are with God, then will his heart be with God. He who is for the body cannot be for the soul, because he cannot serve two masters. Earn for the day what ye need for the day, but take no care for the morrow. Be not anxious about what you shall eat to-morrow, about how you shall be clothed in the years to come. Trust in Him who feeds the birds, and makes the flowers bloom. Shall not the Heavenly Father have greater love for the children of men than for the sparrow or the lily? Do not burden your life with cares, but be glad, glad, glad in God, your Father. Set your minds on the Kingdom of Heaven; all else is second to that. . . . I observe, my brothers, that these words come home to you; but first see if the teacher follows His own precepts. Beware of preachers, wolves in sheep's clothing, who live otherwise than they teach. Whoever speaks to you in My name, look first at his works, as ye recognise the tree by its fruit. Judge men according to their works, but do not condemn them! Before you condemn, remember that you yourself may be condemned. As you judge others so shall you yourself be judged. How often, my friend, do you see a Mote in your brother's eye, while you do not see a whole beam in your own eye. Get rid of your own faults before you censure the faults of your brother. The path which leads to salvation is narrow, and while you escape the abyss on the left hand you may fall into that on the right. And that you may proceed in safety along the narrow way, take heed to My words: Everything that you wish to be done unto you, that do unto others. Now, My brothers and sisters, in the land of our fathers, let those of you who must return to your work, return and ponder on the message I have brought you. Every one who has heard it, and does not live according to it, is like the man who builds his house on sand; but he who lives in accordance with this teaching builds his house on the rocks, and no storm can destroy it. The words that I deliver to you in the name of the Heavenly Father will outlast all the wisdom of the earth. He who hears and does not heed is lost to Me; he who follows My teaching will attain eternal life."

Thus ended the speech which became one of the greatest events of the world. Many were terrified by the concluding sentences, for they heard the word but were too weak to follow it. Their cowardice did not escape Jesus, and because He could not let any depart uncomforted, they seemed to hear Him murmur: "The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who untiringly reach out after it. Blessed are the weak whose will is good."



CHAPTER XVIII

That Sabbath of the Sermon on the Mount became a most important day. When Jesus made an end of speaking, the people did not disperse, but pressed round Him to kiss the hem of His garment. Many who until then had been in despair could not tear themselves from Him. They wished to follow Him wherever He went, and to share His destiny. Whatever He might say to the contrary, that destiny, they felt sure, would be brilliant. Was He not tearing the masses from earthly thoughts that formed their curse. All they heard was His counsel upon absence of anxiety. But what would it be when He revealed the universal power of the Messiah? Many said that the Sermon on the Mount was a trial of strength intended to steel the will for the holy struggle for the Kingdom of the Messiah that was now to be established on earth.

People came out of Judaea; they hastened from the valley of the Jordan; they streamed from the hills. They came from the seaports of Tyre and Sidon, and some even came from lands far beyond the sea in order to discover if what the people on all sides were saying was true. They brought asses and camels, laden with gifts, and Jesus accepted what He and His friends needed, but declined the rest or divided it among the people. For there were many among His followers who were starving, His word being all their sustenance. And sick persons began to drag themselves to Him so that He might heal and comfort them. But the more they heard of miracles wrought on the sick and crippled, the more miracles they desired, so that He grew angry, and reminded them that He did not come on account of their bodies but of their souls. Moreover, He pointed out to them that He was not the Messiah from whom men expected deliverance and the establishment of the kingdom of the Jews. But they regarded that as an excuse, as prudent reserve, until the time was ripe for the entry of the great general. The curiosity increased at every new speech, and they hoped to hear Him sound the call to arms. Others held aloof and thought over the deeper meaning of His words, and if it was possible to comprehend them and live according to them. At first they found it easy and pleasant to be free from care, and to be conciliatory towards their neighbours. It suited the poor admirably to make a virtue of necessity, so that their indolence and poverty appeared as meritorious. But after a few days they began to realise that perhaps they had not understood the Master's words aright. Even the Samaritans from over the border listened to the strange teaching about heaven or earth. If the ancient writings spoke of future blessedness, Jesus spoke of present blessedness.

A money-changer from Carioth was among His disciples. So far he had only been with the Prophet on Sabbaths; on week-days he sat in his office and counted money and reckoned interest. But things did not go well, for while he was doing his accounts his thoughts were with the Master, and he made errors; and when he was with the Master his thoughts were with his money, and he missed what was being said. He must leave either one or the other, and he could not decide which. But after listening to the Sermon on the Mount he determined to go no more to his place of business, but to remain with Jesus, so strong was his belief in Him. And the exchange brought as much joy into his heart as if he had lent money to a man at two hundred per cent. For he would have treasure in the Kingdom of the Messiah.

The only people who more or less still held aloof were the Galileans. They had known the Prophet as a carpenter, and were uncertain what position to take up towards Him. On the other hand, there were Galileans who came to Jerusalem, or Joppa, and were proud to hear their Prophet spoken of there, and they pretended to be His acquaintances and friends, only to greet Him on their return with the same old contempt. He used to say that no man was a prophet in his own country. At this period Jesus often went to Nazareth, and always accompanied by an ever-increasing number of followers. His mother could never get any confidential talk with Him. And His native place disowned Him. His youthful acquaintances fought shy of Him as an eccentric vagrant who opposed the law, stirred up the people, and from whose further career no great honour was to be expected. The Rabbi in the synagogue warned men of Him as of a public traitor. He described with ardent zeal the ruin in which all would be involved who were persuaded by this man without a conscience to renounce the belief of their ancestors. "There is only one true faith," he exclaimed, "and only one God, and that is not the faith and God of this heretic, but the faith of Moses and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And that God curses the false prophet and all his followers, so that the devil has power over him." And he continued sorrowfully: "His relations are greatly to be pitied, especially the unhappy mother who has borne such a son to the shame of the family and the grief of the whole land." And then the Rabbi alluded to a hope that they might perhaps succeed in bringing to reason the erring man who sinned so deeply against the law, if not by love, at least by a vigorous effort and display of authority, till He was made to resume the honourable handicraft in which He had once lived in a manner pleasing to God.

And so it happened that Mary, when she left the synagogue and proceeded homewards, was scoffed at by her ill-natured neighbours, who gave her to understand that she might take herself off, and the sooner the better. She said nothing, but bade her weeping heart be still.

One day Jesus was invited to dine down by the lake with a friend who held the same views as Himself. There were so many people present that there was neither room nor food enough. They expected some miracle. Jesus was in a happy mood, and said that He wondered that people should rush after little wonders, and overlook the great ones; for all things that lived, all things with which we were daily surrounded, were pure and incomprehensible wonders. As for the wonders men desired Him to work, the most important thing was not turning of stones into bread or the making of the sick whole, but that such miracles should awaken faith. Faith was the greatest miracle-worker. While He was talking He was called away; some one stood under the cedars who wished to speak to Him. He found two of His relations there, who asked Him curtly, and without ceremony, what He purposed doing; did He propose to return to Nazareth or not? If not, then He had better realise that His house and workshop would be confiscated.

Jesus answered them: "Go and tell your elders in Nazareth: The house belongs to him who needs it, and let him who has a use for the workshop have it. And leave Him in peace who would build a House in which there are many mansions."

They remained standing there, and said; "If you turn a deaf ear and are heedless of us, there is some one else here." And then His mother came forward. She had thrown a blue shawl over her head. She looked ill, and could hardly speak for sobbing. She took hold of His hand: "My son! where will all this lead? Can you undertake such responsibility? You reject the belief of your fathers, and you deprive others of it."

To which He replied: "I deprive them of their belief. On the contrary, I give them faith."

"But, my child, I can't understand it. You are stirring up the whole country. The people leave their houses, their families, their work, to follow you. What enchantment do you practise on them?"

"They follow the tidings," He said. "They thirst after comfort as the hart pants for water."

"And you call it comfort to starve and freeze in the wilderness," broke in one of his relations; "you call it comfort to deny oneself everything till our rags fall off our bodies, and we are taken by the soldiers as criminals? Take heed. The governors at Caesarea and Jerusalem are displeased at the state of affairs. They mean to put a stop to the demagogue's proceedings, and they are right."

"Who is the demagogue?"

"Why, you, of course."

Jesus was surprised at the reply, and said:—"I? I, who say to you, Peace be with you! Love one another! Do good to your enemies! I, a demagogue?"

"They say you claim to be the Messiah who shall conquer the kingdom."

"A kingdom that is not of this world."

Mary fell into His arms. "My dear son, leave all this alone. If it is to be, God will do it all without you. See how lonely your mother is at Nazareth! Come with me to our peaceful home, and be once again my good, dear Jesus. And these here, they love you, they are your brothers."

Then Jesus stretched out His arm and pointed to His followers, who had pushed their way into the house. "Those are My brothers! Those who acknowledge the Heavenly Father as I do, they are My brothers."

His relations stepped back, and wrung their hands in perplexity. "He is out of His mind. He is possessed by devils."

The people in the road who were looking over the fence felt sorry for the forsaken woman, and wanted to interfere; whereupon a voice exclaimed loudly: "Happy the mother who has such a son! The nations will arise and call her blessed!"

Jesus turned to them gravely. "Blessed are those who follow the word of God."

His mother felt, as He spoke those words, as if she had been stabbed to the heart with a sword. The people were silent, and whispered to each other: "Why is He so hard towards His mother?"

John the younger answered them: "He sees salvation only in God the Father. He has converted many people to His view, but just those whom He loves best will not listen to the tidings of the Kingdom of Heaven."

Jesus lifted up His voice and cried: "He who desires to be My disciple, and his parents and brothers and sisters do not believe in Me, he must forsake his parents and brothers and sisters in order to follow Me. He who has wife and child, and they despise My tidings, he must forsake wife and child and follow Me if he wishes to be My disciple. Who does not love God more than mother and child, than brother and sister, yea, more than himself and his life, he is not worthy of God."

Many were troubled by this speech, and murmured: "He asks too much."

Then said John: "Whoever is in earnest about his faith in the Heavenly Father cannot speak otherwise. He feels Himself how hard it is to destroy all ties. Do you not observe how He struggles with Himself, and must subdue His own heart, so that it may lose its power over Him? He asks all from His disciples because He gives them all. We already know that what He has to give us is worth more than all we have given up."

His relations went away. They talked violently against Jesus. His mother could not endure that, so she remained behind and climbed the stony path by herself. In her sorely tried heart she prayed: "My Father which art in Heaven, Thy will be done!" And she had no idea that it was her son's prayer, in which she found the same faith and comfort as He did. She knew not that thus she, too, became a disciple of Jesus.



CHAPTER XIX

Elsewhere Jesus's fame had become so great that all men came to Him. The poor crowded to Him in order to eat at His table where the word had become flesh. The rich invited Him to their houses, but He mostly declined those invitations, accepting, however, one here and there.

He Himself went to those who humbly remained in the background and yet desired to go to Him. A man lived in the district whose greatest desire was to see the Prophet. When he heard that Jesus was coming his way, he began to tremble and to think what he should do. "I should like to meet Him face to face, and yet dare not venture to go to Him. For I have a bad reputation as a publican, and am not in any way worthy. Then He is always accompanied by so many people, and I am short and cannot see over their heads." When Jesus approached, the man climbed a bare sycamore-tree and peeped between the branches. Jesus saw him, and called out; "Zacchaeus, come down from the tree! I will come and visit you to-day."

The publican jumped down from the tree and went over to Him, and said humbly: "Lord, I am not worthy that you should go to my house. Only say one word to me, and I shall be content."

The people wondered that the Prophet should so honour this person of somewhat doubtful character. Zacchaeus was almost beside himself to think that the Master should have recognised and spoken to him. He set before his guest everything that his house afforded. Jesus said: "These things are good. But I want the most precious thing you possess."

"What is that, sir?" asked Zacchaeus in terror, for he thought he had given of his best. "Everything I possess is yours."

Then Jesus grasped his hand, looked at him lovingly, and said: "Zacchaeus, give me your heart!"

The man became His follower.

One day He was dining with a man who was very learned and a strict censor of morals. Several of His disciples were among the guests, and the talk, partly intellectual and partly guided by feeling, turned on the Scriptures. At first Jesus took no part; He was thinking how much pleasanter it would be to hear simple talk at His mother's fireside at home than to dispute with these arrogant scholars about the empty letter. But He was soon drawn into the conversation. Someone mentioned the commandment which enjoins a man to love his neighbour, and, as often happens, the simplest things became confused and incomprehensible in the varied opinions of the worldly-wise. One of the guests said: "It is remarkable how we do not reflect on the most important things because they are so clear; and yet if we do reflect on them by any chance, we don't understand them. So that I really do not know who it is I should love as myself."

"Your neighbour!" the disciple Matthew, who was sitting by him at table, informed him.

"That is all right, my friend, if only I knew who was my neighbour! I run up against all sorts of people in the day, and if one of them trips me up, he is my neighbour for the time being. At this moment I have two neighbours, you and Zachariah. Which of the two am I to love as myself? It is only stated that you shall love one. And if it's you or Zachariah, why should I love either of you more than the Master who sits at the other end of the table and is not my neighbour!"

"Man! that is an impertinent speech," said the disciple Bartholomew reprovingly.

"Well then, put me right!" retorted the other.

The disciple began, and tried to explain who the neighbour was, but he did not get very far, his thoughts were confused. Meanwhile the question had reached the Master. Who is, in the correct sense of the term, one's neighbour?

Jesus answered, by telling a story: "There was once a man who went from Jerusalem to Jericho. It was a lonely road, and he was attacked by highwaymen, who plundered him, beat him, and left him for dead. After a while a high priest came by that way, saw him lying there, and noticing that he was a stranger, passed quickly on. A little later an assistant priest came by, saw him lying there, and thought: He's either severely wounded or dead, but I'm not going to put myself out for a stranger; and he passed on. At last there came one of the despised Samaritans. He saw the helpless creature, stopped, and had pity on him. He revived him with wine, put healing salve on his wounds, lifted him up, and carried him to the nearest inn. He gave the host money to take care of the sufferer until he recovered. Now, what do you say? The priests regarded him as a stranger, but the Samaritan saw in him his neighbour."

Then they explained it to themselves: Your neighbour is one whom you can help and who is waiting for your help.

The disciple Thomas now joined in the conversation, and doubted if you could expect a great prince to dismount from his horse and lift a poor beggar out of the gutter.

Jesus asked: "If you rode by as a great prince and found Me lying wretchedly in the gutter, would you leave me lying there?"

"Master!" shouted Thomas in horror.

"Do you see, Thomas? What you would do to the poorest, you would do to Me."

One of the others asked: "Are we only to be kind to the poor, and not to the rich and noble?"

And Jesus said: "If you are a beggar in the street, and a prince comes riding past, there's nothing you can do for him. But if his horse stumbles and he falls, then catch him so that his head may not strike against a stone. At that moment he becomes your neighbour."

Then some whispered: "It often seems as if He desired us to love all men. But that is too difficult."

"It's very easy, brother," said Bartholomew. "To love the millions of men whom you never see, who do not do you any harm, that costs nothing. Hypocrites love in that way. Yet while they claim to love the whole human race, they are hard on their neighbour."

"It is easy to love from afar," said Jesus, "and it is easy to love good-tempered and amiable men. But how is it when your brother has wronged you, and is always trying to do you harm? You must forgive him, not seven times, but seventy times seven. Go to him in kindness, show him his error. If he listens to you, then you have won him. If he does not heed you, repeat your warning. If still he heeds you not, seek a friendly intermediary. If he will not heed him, then let the community decide. And only when you see your brother saved and contented will you be glad again."

While they were talking thus, a young woman pushed her way into the room. She was one of those who followed Him everywhere, and waited impatiently at the door while the Master visited a house. Bending low, almost unnoticed, she hurried through the crowd, stooped down before Jesus, and began to rub His feet with ointment from a casket. He calmly permitted it; but His host thought to himself: No, He is no prophet, or He would know who it is that is anointing His feet. Isn't she the sinner of Magdala?

Jesus guessed his thoughts, and said: "My friend, I will tell you something. Here is a man who has two debtors. One owes him fifty pence, and the other five hundred. But as they cannot pay he cancels both the debts. Now say, which of them owes him most gratitude?"

"Naturally him to whom the most was remitted," answered the host.

And Jesus: "You are right. Much has been remitted to this woman. See, you invited Me to your house, your servants have filled the room with the scent of roses, although fresh air comes in through the window. My ear has been charmed with the strains of sweet bells, and stringed instruments, although the clear song of birds can be heard from without. You have given Me wine in costly crystal goblets, although I am accustomed to drink out of earthen vessels. But that My feet might feel sore after the long wandering across the desert only this woman remembered. She has much love, therefore much will be forgiven her."

One day when the Master had gone down to Capernaum he noticed that the disciples who were walking in front of Him were engaged in quiet but animated talk. They were discussing which of them was most pleasing to God. Each subtly brought forward his meritorious services to the Master, his sacrifices, his renunciations and sufferings, his obedience to the teaching. Jesus quickly stepped nearer to them, and said: "Why do you indulge in such foolish talk? While you are boasting of your virtues, you prove that you lack the greatest. Are you the righteous that you dare to talk so loudly?"

Whereupon one of them answered timidly: "No, sir, we are not the righteous. But you yourself said that there was more rejoicing in heaven over penitents than over righteous men."

"There is rejoicing over penitents when they are humble. But do you know over whom there is greater rejoicing in heaven?"

By this time a crowd had formed round Him. Women had come up leading little children by the hand and carrying smaller ones in their arms in order to show them the marvellous man. Some of the boys got through between the people's legs to the front in order to see Him and kiss the hem of His garment. The people tried to keep them back so that they should not trouble the Master, but He stood under the fig-tree and exclaimed in a loud voice. "Suffer the little ones to come unto Me!" Then round-faced, curly-headed, bright-eyed children ran forward, their skirts flying, and crowded about Him, some merry, others shy and embarrassed. He sat down on the grass, drew the children to His side, and took the smallest in His lap. They looked up in His kind face with wide-opened eyes. He played with them, and they smiled tenderly or laughed merrily. And they played with His curls, and flung their arms round His neck. They were so trustful and happy, these little creatures hovering so brightly round the Prophet, that the crowd stood in silent joy. But Jesus was so filled with blessed gladness that He exclaimed loudly: "This is the Kingdom of Heaven!"

The words swept over the crowd like the scent of the hawthorn. But some were afraid when the Master added: "See how innocent and glad they are. I tell you that he who is not like a little child he shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven! And woe to him who deceives one of these children! it were better he tied a millstone round his neck and were drowned in the sea! But whosoever accepts a child for My sake accepts Me!"

Then the disciples thought they understood over whom there was joy in heaven, and they disputed no longer over their own merits.



CHAPTER XX

Galilee was rich in poor men and poor in rich men. And it might have been thought that Jesus, the friend of the poor, was the right man in the right place there. And yet His teaching took no hold in that land. A few rich men among a multitude of poor have all the more power because they are few, and they used all their influence with the people to dethrone the Prophet from His height, and to undermine His career. These illustrious men found their best tools in the Rabbis, who circulated the sophism that the people who followed the teaching of this man must quickly come to ruin. For the poor, who willingly gave up their last possessions, must become poorer, and the rich, who pursued their advantages, must become still richer, which implied that not the rich but only the poor would accept the Prophet's teaching, since we know that Jesus especially called on the rich to alter the tenor of their ways, and always for the benefit of the poor. But, they answered: The rich will not alter the tenor of their ways, they will consume the gentle disciples of Jesus, as the wolf the sheep. Many were impressed by that view, and lost courage: The Prophet means well, they reflected, but nothing is to be gained by adopting His methods.

Then it became known that Jesus had allowed Himself to be anointed. To allow Himself to be anointed meant that He regarded Himself as the Heaven-sent Messiah! And that was hostile to the existing order of things, to the king. So said the preachers in the synagogues, the houses, and the streets, but they were silent over the fact that the anointing was the work of a poor woman who desired to heal His sore feet. In fact, the preachers cared nothing for the people or the king but only for the letter of the law.

When the woman who had anointed His feet saw that He was despised because of her, she went silently apart by herself. No human being cared so much for Him, and none left Him so calmly. She did not go back to the old man she had married out of pity, and forgotten—out of love, but she went to relations at Bethany. Since the Prophet had raised her up before all the people, her relatives no longer closed their doors to her, but received her kindly.

Jesus was aware how His native ground tottered under His feet, how the people began to shun Him more and more, how the inns made difficulties about receiving Him. So He went, with those who were true to Him, out into the rocky desert of Judaea. He gained new adherents on the way, and people came from the surrounding places with pack and staff to hear the wonderful preacher. Some had had enough of the barren wisdom of the Pharisees, others were disgusted with the bad administration of the country, and with the fine promises of the Romans, they were ruined by the agricultural depression, or in despair over the low level of men's minds, over the barbarism of men. There were some, too, who had fled before the robber bands of Barabbas which infested the desert to their undoing. They came into His presence, hungering for the living word on which to feed their starving souls. John said to them: "His teaching is nourishment. His word is flesh. Who eats of His flesh and drinks of His blood will not die."

They wondered at those words. How were they to understand what was meant by eating His flesh and drinking His blood?

Then John; "The word is like flesh, it nourishes the soul. Manna was sent from Heaven for our ancestors, yet they died. His word is bread from heaven which makes us immortal." They remembered another saying: "His flesh is food indeed!" And they explained that a man's body is destined to be consumed by the spirit, like tallow and wick by flame. So man, in order to become divine, must attain the divine life through the medium of humanity.

They remained with Him day and night in their thousands, and were satisfied. And many entreated Him to pour water over their heads as a token that they were His adherents and desired to be pure.

It was a starry night in the desert, one of those nights when the stars shine down in sparkling brilliance and envelop the rocks in a bluish shimmer and vapour, so that it seems like a resurrection of glorified souls. One of the disciples looked up at the stars shining in the sky in holy stillness, and said: "Brother, this infinitude of space makes me afraid."

The other disciple: "I rejoice over that infinite space."

"My terror causes me to flee to my Heavenly Father."

"I take my joy to my Heavenly Father."

They were all lying on the ground in a wide circle round Jesus. They wished to rest, but the night was too beautiful for sleep.

And one of them began to say softly: "This is like the Kingdom of God."

Another lifted his head, which had been resting on his arm, and said: "Do you know, then, what the Kingdom of God is like?"

The first speaker was silent for a space, and then replied: "No, indeed, I don't know, but I like to think about it. He speaks so often of the Kingdom of Heaven, I should like to know something more definite about it."

"Shall we ask Him?"

"You ask Him."

"I dare not."

"Let us ask John. He knows Him best, and possibly can tell us something."

John was lying on the sand with his head on a stone. His soft hair was his pillow. But he was not asleep. They crept up to him, and boldly asked him where the Kingdom of Heaven was, of which the Master so often spoke. Was it under the earth or above the sun? Would it begin soon or in a thousand years?

John said; "How long have you been with Him?"

"Seven weeks."

"And you don't know yet where the Kingdom of Heaven is? Then you do not understand His language."

"He speaks the language of our fathers."

"He speaks the language of the Kingdom of God. Remember, the Kingdom of Heaven is where God is. God is where Love is, where trustful, self-sacrificing, glad Love is."

"And where is that?"

"Where do you think?"

"I think Love must be in the heart."

Whereupon John answered: "Then you do know where the Kingdom of Heaven is."

The two looked at each other, but did not quite seem to know. Then John went to Jesus, who was sitting on a rock and looking out into the darkness as if it was full of visions. His countenance was as bright as if the stars had lent it their brilliance.

"Master," said John, "we cannot sleep. Tell us of the Kingdom of Heaven."

Jesus turned round, and pointing to the disciple nearest him, said: "To you is it granted to know the Kingdom of Heaven. To the others it can only be explained through parables. For the Kingdom of God is not built of wood or stone like a temple, it cannot be conquered like an earthly empire, it cannot be seen by mortal eyes like a garden of flowers, neither can we say it is here or there. The Kingdom of God must be conquered with the power of the will, and he who is strong and constant will gain it. His eye and his hand must be continually set to the plough which makes furrows in the kingdom of earth for the great harvest. He who sets his hand to the plough, and looks at something else, he is not dedicated to the Kingdom of God. But to him who earnestly seeks it, it comes overnight. The seed thrown on the field yesterday has sprung up—man knows not how. The seed is the Word of God which was scattered on all sides. Part falls on the wayside, and the birds devour it. Part falls among thorns, and is choked. A part falls on a thin covering of earth, it comes up but is parched by the hot sun. Only a very small quantity falls on rich earth and bears much fruit. So it is with the tidings of God. Evil inclinations devour it, earthly cares choke it, burning passions parch it, but the heart that desires God receives it, and with him the word becomes the Kingdom of Heaven."

More and more heads were lifted up. "He is speaking." Then all bestirred themselves and listened.

Jesus raised His voice and went on; "Some of you who listen to Me have the Kingdom of Heaven within you. But be careful! The enemy comes in the night and sows weeds. Hear more. The word is like a grain of mustard-seed. It is the smallest of all seeds, and yet it becomes the biggest tree. Perhaps without your knowledge a word has fallen into your heart. You are scarcely aware of it, you pass it by, but it grows secretly, and all at once enlightenment is there, and you have the Kingdom of Heaven. Then, again, it is like yeast, and stirs up and changes your whole being. The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. A man finds it and buys the field. And it is like a pearl for which a merchant gives all his wealth. But it is also like a lamp which a man must feed with oil lest it be extinguished. If it goes out, you will have no light, and suddenly comes the attack. And hear this also: the Lord of the Kingdom of Heaven is like a king who at urgent request remits all his slave's debts. But the slave does not remit his debtor's debt, but lets him be cast into prison. So the king summons him before his judgment-seat and says: I have shown you mercy, and you have shown your fellow no mercy. So now I shall have you put upon the rack until you have paid me your debts to the last farthing. Who does not show mercy to others, to him shall no mercy be shown."

Jesus was silent, and a shudder of terror passed through the crowd. John went to the man who had just questioned Him, and said: "Do you understand now what He means by the Kingdom of God?"

"I think so."

"That is enough for the present. It is mercy, blessedness, and justice. . . . Consider, it was night He chose in order to unveil the Kingdom of Heaven. For it is not visible to the outward eye, but to the inward eye. Man, if you possess the Kingdom of Heaven, you possess it in your soul. If it is not there, you seek it elsewhere in vain."

"But," someone ventured to say hesitatingly, "it must also be somewhere else. The Master Himself says: 'Father who art in heaven.'"

John answered him: "The Kingdom of Heaven is wherever you are, wherever you come with your faith and with your love. Only do not think that you are obliged to understand such mysteries with your reason."

And the man asked no more.

Then an old man tottered up and ventured to ask Jesus what he should do. He was a worldly man, had never lived save for earth, and he was told it was now too late to change. "How shall I reach the Kingdom of Heaven?"

Then Jesus spoke as follows:

"There was once a man who employed labourers for his vineyard. He engaged one in the morning, another at noon, and the last towards evening when the day's work was almost over. And when the pay-hour came round, he gave each good wages. Then those who had been hired in the morning and at noon complained that they had worked much longer in the toil and heat of the day, and ought therefore to receive more wages than he who only began towards evening, and had scarcely laboured for an hour. Then said the master of the vineyard; 'I told you beforehand the wages I should give you, and you were content. What is it to you how much I give the other? Let him come to me late, or let him come to me as soon as it is morning. The chief thing is that he comes to me.'"

Then the old man began to weep for joy that although he came so late to the vineyard of Jesus, he would still be employed.

Since the Master was so ready to speak, others came to Him at this time, and entreated Him to clear up some matters which they did not understand. Once he related a story of a king who, when the guests he had invited to his wedding-feast refused to come, invited the people out of the highways. They came, but one had not a wedding garment on, and the king ordered him to be cast into the outer darkness. The Master intended it as a parable, but they could not understand it. The king was too severe, they argued; he must have known that people from off the highways would not be wearing wedding garments.

Jesus was silent, but James observed: "Why, guests must know that it is not seemly to go to a king's wedding in torn and dirty clothes. All are freely invited, but he who comes unwashed and presumptuous will be cast out into the darkness. No one is admitted who is unprepared."

Another of His parables concerning the Kingdom of Heaven disturbed them. It was that of the unjust steward whom his master praised because he had prudently used the money entrusted to him in order to provide for himself. The steward knew that he would be dismissed, and secretly remitted to his master's debtors a part of their debts, so that he might stand well with them. And he did right! "But, can we purchase the Kingdom of Heaven with goods that are not ours?"

A mule-driver interposed: "I understand the story thus: None of us has any property on earth. We are all only the stewards of the property and when we give of it to the needy, we are unjust stewards because we give what is not ours, and yet we do right."

Some shook their heads over this interpretation; the rich and those learned in the Scriptures could not understand it. But Jesus said in prayer: "I praise, O Father, that Thou revealest many things to the simple that are hidden from the worldly wise. Blessed are those who are not offended by My teaching!"

Now the disciples always discussed together anything that was not quite clear. Thomas did not exactly understand what the Master meant by the word truth, by saying that He was the truth, that we must pray to God in truth, and that he who is of truth would understand God's word.

What did John, the youngest of them, say? "The children of the world call it truth if they break a stone with a hammer and find that it is chalk; they call it truth to know the difference between the fishes in the sea and the worms on the earth, and to be able to measure the dimensions of the sky with figures; they call it truth when it is established that a seed of corn germinates, and a man's body turns into dust after death. Truly, every one can see those things with his own eyes. But is man's eye the truth? And did He say: 'You shall know the truth'? No; He said: 'You shall be the truth.'"

To be the truth! To be void of guile and falsehood! To be true and open in mind and heart!

So they sought to increase their knowledge of the Kingdom of Heaven; hourly and daily did many a one rejoice because he had found what the wise men of the ages had sought after.

The poor, the despised, and the unhappy came to Him more and more. That strange desert camp was often filled with the sick, the over-burdened, and the despairing. Many came from afar full of great troubles, yet borne up by hope, and then when they saw Him, tall and earnest, standing there and teaching men in deep sayings, their courage deserted them; they could not trust Him. They were full of fear. Then He spread out His hands and exclaimed:

"Come, come unto Me, all that are over-burdened and oppressed; I will relieve you. I am not come to judge and to punish. I am come to find what is lost, to heal what is sick, and to revive what is dead. I am come to the sad to console them, to the fallen to raise them up. I give Myself for the redemption of many. My power is not of this world. I am Master in the Kingdom of God, where all are blessed in trustful, joyful love. Come to Me, all ye who have erred and gone astray. I have joy and eternal life for you."

The disciples looked at each other in astonishment: He had never before spoken with such divine gentleness. The people, sobbing, crowded round Him; His words were as balm to their wounds. They wondered how it was possible for a man to speak so proudly, lovingly and divinely. They gave themselves up to Him, filled with trust and enthusiasm; in His presence the hungry were fed, the blind made to see, the lame walked, doubters believed, the weak became strong, and dead souls lived.

Simon always rejoiced greatly whenever new wanderers came by and, withdrawing from their companions, took a vow to follow the Master's teaching. He was exceedingly angry when they refused, alleging that it was not possible to accomplish what He demanded of them. Jesus related a story in connection with Simon's emotions. "A man had two sons, and told each of them to go and work in his field. One said, 'Yes, father, I will go at once.' But afterwards he reflected that the work was hard, and he did not go. The other son told his father to his face that he would not go into the field; it was too much labour. When he was alone he thought, 'I will do my father's will,' and he went into the field and worked. Which of the two, in your opinion, did right?"

A man learned in the Law replied: "He who promised to go. For it stands written; 'He who declares himself ready to obey the Law.'"

But Jesus was vexed at that reply, and said in sorrow: "It is extraordinary how falsely you interpret the Law. Sinners who sincerely repent will find their way to the Kingdom of Heaven before such expounders of the Law."

From that time forward Simon rejoiced no more over empty promises, nor did he vex himself over the refusals of those who would perhaps come later to take up the heavy work. Patiently as once he had waited at the lake for the fish to come to his nets, he now waited until they came. And he understood a mystic saying of his Master: "All are called; many come, few remain."



CHAPTER XXI

At that time there lived in Jerusalem, the royal city, a man who was perfectly happy. He had everything that makes life pleasant: great wealth, powerful friends, and beautiful women who daily crowned his head with wreaths of roses. He was still young, every one of his wishes was fulfilled, and it seemed as if things would always be the same. And yet, sometimes, amid all the joy and gladness there would be a quiet hour in which he thought over and measured his good fortune, and then he felt afraid. Yes, he was greatly troubled, for every day he saw, on all hands, how property vanished, and how the coffins of those who the day before had been enjoying life were carried to the grave.

Then this man, who, although he was happy, was yet beset with fears, heard that there was a prophet out in the wilderness who had eternal life. He knew of everlasting wealth and happiness, and half the world were flocking to him in order to share in it. So Simeon—that was his name—determined to seek out this man. He locked up his precious stones in iron chests, delivered his palaces, vineyards, ships and servants into the keeping of his steward, gave his women to the protection of the gods, and gathered his slaves round him. He rode out of the town on a thoroughbred steed, he wore soft, bright-coloured garments adorned with gold and jewels, his scimitar at his side, and waving feathers of rare birds in his hat. A troop of servants accompanied him, and by his side rode Moors on African camels, holding a canopy over him to protect him from the sun, and fanning him into coolness with flowery fans. They brought with them fruits of the East and the South in golden dishes, tasty fishes and game, rare wines and incense, and pillows for sleeping on. During its progress the procession met black figures carrying a dead man. The body lay swathed in white linen on a high board, and a raven circled round it in the air. Simeon turned indignantly away; he had a horror of all that was dead. He scattered coins among the mourners, for he would have liked to throw a gay covering adorned with precious stones over all sorrow and mourning.

When he reached the mountains his horse began to stumble and falter. The steed's hoofs were insecure on the ringing flat stones; he reared his head and snorted, and would not go on. Simeon took counsel how he was to proceed. Natives leading mules came by, and offered them to him, but he refused. He could not go to the Prophet who held the key to imperishable wealth and eternal life on such contemptible beasts. His slaves had to make a litter, and he lay under its glittering canopy on soft cushions, while six Moors bore their master thus into the desert. When they rested at an oasis, it was like a royal camp; servants handed him water from the spring in a crystal goblet, skilful cooks prepared the meal; beautiful women, whose skin was soft as velvet and brown as copper, spread out their black hair for him and delighted him with harp-playing, while armed men kept watch against the desert chief, Barabbas.