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.
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.
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.
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."