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.
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.
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."
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.
The country became more and more uninviting, and it was almost impossible to avoid many discomforts. Simeon remembered the comfort of his palace in Jerusalem, and contemplated turning back. And yet the thought of the wise man who could help him to immortality proved too attractive. People came over the bare hills who told of the teacher at the other extreme of the desert, how He gathered at times all kinds of people round Him and spoke of the everlasting Kingdom of God. And so the swaying litter went on farther, and the next day reached the valley through dry rocky ravines, and found there a few olive and fig trees. People crowded round one of the fig trees; they were for the most part poor, sad-looking creatures, miserable outcasts wandering, homeless and loveless, here and there. Clothed in scanty rags, their forms bent, they turned their faces towards the tree, for there He stood and spoke.
"Be ye not sad nor cast down. You miss nothing of the world's attractions. Yours is the Father and His Kingdom. Trust in Him; you are His. You shall be made glad through love; things will be easier for you if you love than if you hate. And in every misfortune that comes upon you, keep a steadfast soul, and then you have nothing to lose."
Simeon clearly heard the strange words, and thought to himself: "Can this be He? No, a wise man does not surround himself with such a shabby, poverty-stricken crowd. And yet they say it is He." Simeon got out of his litter and drew his scimitar. Then he pressed forward amid the disagreeable smell of old clothes and of the perspiring crowd. Oh, how repulsive is the odour of the poor! The multitude shyly gave way to the brilliant figure, for never had its like been seen in the Master's neighbourhood. Jesus stood calmly under the fig tree and saw the stranger coming. He stood still three paces off Him, beat his head, placed his hand on his brow, like a king who greets another.
"Sir," said the stranger, and his voice was not sharp and shrill as when he gave his servants orders, but low and hoarse. "Sir, I have come a long way; I have sought you a long while."
Jesus held out His hand to him in silence.
Simeon was excited. He wanted to explain his object at once so as to return to Jerusalem without delay, but the words would not come. He stammered out; "Sir, I hear that you understand about eternal life. Therefore am I come to you. Tell me where it is to be found. What shall I do in order to possess eternal life?"
Jesus stepped forward a pace, looked earnestly at the man, and said: "If you desire to live, keep the commandments of Moses."
"Of Moses?" returned the stranger, surprised. "But I do. Although I am of pagan descent, in these matters I follow the people among whom I live. But that is not the point. They die. I want to live for ever."
Then said Jesus: "If you desire to live for ever, follow Him Who lives for ever. Love God above everything, and your neighbour as yourself."
"Oh, Master," said Simeon, "that is just what I strive to do. And yet I am afraid."
Whereupon Jesus said: "You are afraid because you ought to do it, and desire to do it, and yet do it not. You possess palaces in the town, fertile acres in the country, ships on the sea, laden with precious things from all quarters of the world. You possess a thousand slaves. Your stewards would fill many volumes if they wrote down all that you possess."
"Sir, how do you know everything?"
"My friend, your brilliant train spells wealth; but look at the people who follow Me. They have poor garments but glad souls, they have the Kingdom of God within them. If you are in earnest, you must give up all you possess."
"Give up all I possess?"
"You must give it up and become like these. Then come to Me, and I will lead you to everlasting life."
When Jesus had said that and more, the stranger cast down his head, and slowly stepped back. What? I must become like these lowly, beggarly people? must deliberately step out of my accustomed circle into this boundless misery? No, no man could do it. He returned to his suite in very low spirits.
Jesus looked after him thoughtfully with a kindly glance.
"Who is he?" the disciples asked. "He wears royal garments. We have never seen such silks. Is he a priest from the East? If he came in order to make us gifts, he has forgotten his intention."
Paying no heed to the jesting words, the Master said thoughtfully: "It is difficult to gain a rich man for blessedness. Men's wills are too weak. Their bodies are lapped in luxury, yet scorn of the soul leaves them a prey to fear. Yes, My friends, it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter our heaven."
The word was spoken more in sorrow than in anger. And then someone ventured to say: "Yes, if the commandments are too hard, there must be sin. Men are bound to transgress them."
Jesus looked at the trembler: "Why, then, am I come? Why, then, do I show you how light the burden is? Do you not see for yourselves how free a man is when he has thrown off great cares and desires? Nay, you will never see that till the grace of God is given you."
They scarcely heard what He said. The brilliant procession had attracted their attention, and as it moved off with its horses, camels, riders, Moors, and lovely women, they looked after it with longing eyes. A little old hunchbacked Israelite, who was cowering behind a block of stone, murmured with some malice: "Seems to me they'd rather go with the heathen than wait here for the grace of the Heavenly Father."
Simeon once more lay in the swaying litter and thought. He tried to reconcile his unaccomplished purpose with his conscience. This Prophet—he was a visionary. What could the Kingdom of God within us mean? Visionary! intended only to make people lazy and incapable. A doctrine for vagabonds and beggars! And so that was living for ever! So long as he lived he should believe himself to be right, and when he was dead, he could not know that he had been wrong. And then the social danger. The possessor not the owner of his own property? He must give it up, share it with the poor. Such equality of property or lack of property would prevent all progress, and plunge everything into mediocrity. No, that is not my salvation! Ah, well, this journey into the desert will be an advantage to me in one way: it will make me feel happier than ever in my comfortable house.
He took the opportunity of a last look at the place on which he now turned his back. Several, attracted by the brilliant cavalcade, had followed from afar. Three of the disciples had even come after him in order to set right a misunderstanding. They came up with the stranger at a spring which gushed forth from a rock, and grass grew round it. The Moors wished to prevent them coming nearer, but Simeon recognised that they were not dangerous, and let them approach him.
James, one of the disciples, said: "Great Lord, it is a pity. You are one of the few who have left our Master without accomplishing their purpose. It would not be quite so hard as you think. He Himself says that if a man only has a good will he is never lost. The will to live for ever is the thing."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Simeon. "His demands are quite impossible."
"Must everything be taken so literally?" said James. "The Master always puts the ideal high, and expresses it in lofty words, so that it may the better stay in the memory."
Simeon waved them aside with his gold-encircled hand. "To give up all I possess! To become horribly poor——?"
Then another disciple stepped forward, stood before him in a sad-coloured garment, crying: "Look at us. Have we given up everything? We never had much more than we have now, and what we had we have still. Our brother Thomas has only one coat because he is full-blooded; I have two coats because I easily feel cold. If I had poor legs the Master would allow me an ass like Thaddeus. Every one has what he needs. You need more than we do because you are accustomed to more. But you cannot use all that you have for yourself. And yet you need it for the many hundreds of men you employ, who work for the good of the country, and live by you. I say that your property belongs to you by right just as my second coat to me, and that you can quite well be His disciple."
"You chatter too much, Philip," said James reprovingly. "If a man makes a pilgrimage of repentance towards eternal life, he doesn't travel like the Emperor of the Indies, or if he does, he doesn't know what he wants. Believe me, noble sir, wealth is always dangerous, even for life. The best protection against envy, hate, and sudden attacks is poverty."
There was a third disciple, Matthew, with them, and he addressed himself not to the stranger, but to his comrades, and said: "Brothers, it must be clearly understood that he who desires the Kingdom of Heaven must give up everything that causes him unrest; otherwise he cannot be entirely with the Father. But you," turning to the great man from Jerusalem, "you do not wish to break with the world? Well, then, do one thing, love your neighbour. Keep your silken raiment, but clothe the naked. Keep your riding-horse, but give crutches to the lame. Keep your high position, but free your slaves. Only if you think what is brought you from the fields, the mines, the workshops is yours, then woe be to you!"
"I would willingly do one thing," said Simeon. "Good! then say to your slaves, 'You are free. If you will continue to serve me, I will treat you well. If you prefer to go your own way, take what you require of good clothing and mules.' Will you do that, stranger?"
"You fanatic!" shouted Simeon angrily. "What notions you have about men. They're not like that. Life's very different from that!"
"But life will be like that some day," said Matthew.
"He is a Messiah who destroys the Kingdom instead of building it," exclaimed Simeon, jumping into his litter and giving the sign to depart.
The procession moved on slowly, its glitter showing up against the dark rocks of the desert track. The disciples gazed after it in silence.
A little old man lay on the yellow sand. He was so grey and dwarfish that he looked like a mountain sprite. The old fellow was at home in the bare, big rocks. He loved the desert, for it is the home of great thoughts. He loved the desert where he hoped to find the entrance to Nirvana. Now when the disciples passed near him as they were returning to the Master, he pushed the upper part of his body out of the sand, and asked: "What did the man want to whom you were speaking?"
"He wanted to be able to live for ever."
"To live for ever!" exclaimed the old fellow in surprise. "And that is why the man drags himself across the desert. What extraordinary people there are! Now I could go any distance to find my Nirvana. I only desire eternal life for my enemies. It is many a day since people said I was a hundred years old. If you are men of wisdom, teach me, tell me what I must do to reach Nirvana?"
They were astonished. It was something like out of a fairy tale. A living creature who did not wish to live! But Matthew knew how to answer him.
"My friend, your desire is modest, but it can never be fulfilled. You will never be nothing. If you die, you lose only your body, not yourself. You will, perhaps, not live, but you will be just as the same as now: you are not living now, and yet you exist. Breathing and waiting is not living. Living is fulfilment, is love—is the Kingdom of Heaven."
"My Kingdom of Heaven is Nirvana," said the little old man, and buried himself again in the sand.
As they went along Matthew said: "He fears everlasting existence because he does not recognise a God. But he is not so far from us as the man who loves the world."
Simeon went on his way, and towards evening reached the oasis of Kaba. He ordered his people to encamp there for the night. The servants, porters, and animals formed the outer ring, the tent—in which he took his supper, stretched himself on his cushions, and let himself be fanned to sleep by the maidens—was in the centre. But he did not sleep well. He had bad dreams: his house in Jerusalem was burnt down, his ships were wrecked, faithless stewards broke open his chests. And amid all, always the cry, "Give it all up!" About midnight he awoke. And it was no longer a dream, but terrible reality. A muffled noise could be heard throughout the camp, dark forms with glittering weapons moved softly about, in the camp itself crawling figures moved softly here and there. A tall, dark man, accompanied by Bedouins, carrying torches and knives, stood in front of Simeon.
"Do not be alarmed, my princely friend!" he said to Simeon, who jumped up; but none could tell whether he spoke from arrogance or authority, kindly or in scorn. "It's true we are disturbing your night's repose, but, provided you give no trouble, we have no evil designs. Hand over all that you possess."
In the first confusion the wretched man thought he heard the Prophet speaking, but he soon noted the difference. The Prophet and His disciples gave up everything that they possessed. This man took everything that others possessed.
"I know you, proud citizen of Jerusalem. I am Barabbas, called the king of the desert. It is useless to resist. Three hundred men are at this moment keeping watch round your camp. We've settled matters with your servants and slaves; they are powerless."
It was clear to the poor rich man what the chief meant. His slaves were slain, he was menaced by a like fate. What had that disciple of the Prophet said? Wealth endangered life, and poverty protected it. If he had set his followers free, giving them what they needed, and wandered about in simple fashion on his own legs, the robber's knife would not now be pointed at his breast. In unrestrained rage he uttered a brutal curse: "Take whatever you can find, and do not mock me, you infamous beast of the desert!"
"Calmly, calmly, my dear sir," said the chief, while dusky men rolled up carpets, clothes, arms, jewels, and golden goblets, and threw them into big sacks. "See, we are helping you to pack up."
"Take the rubbish away," shouted Simeon, "and leave me in peace."
The chief, Barabbas, grinned. "I fancy, my friend, that you and I know each other too well for me to let you go back to Jerusalem. You would then have too great a desire to have me with you. You would send out the Romans to search for me, and bring me to the beautiful city. The desert is much more to my taste: life is pleasanter there. Now, tell me where the bags of coin such as a man like you always carries about with him are hidden. No? Then you may go to sleep."
He who went forth to seek eternal life is now in danger of losing mortal life. In terror of death, cold sweat on his brow, he began to haggle for his life with the desert king. He not only offered all that he had with him. The next caravans were bringing him rare spices and incense; bars of gold, diamonds, and pearls were coming in the Indian ships, and he would send all out to the desert, as well as beautiful women slaves, with jewels to deck their throats. Only he must be allowed to keep his bare life.
Grinning and wrinkling up his snub nose, Barabbas let it be understood that he was not to be won with women and promises—he was no longer young enough. Neither would he have any executioner dispatched in search of him—he was not old enough. And he had his weaknesses. He could not decide which would suit the noble citizen's slender, white neck best, metal or silk. He took a silken string from the pocket of his cloak, while two Bedouins roughly held Simeon.
Meanwhile, outside the camp, the second chief was packing the stolen treasure on the camels by torchlight. Whenever he stumbled over a dead body he muttered a curse, and when his work was finished he sought his comrade. Women in chains wept loudly, not so much on account of their imprisonment—they took that almost as a matter of course—but because their master was being murdered in the tent. So the second chief snatched a torch from a servant, hastened to the tent, and arrived just in the nick of time.
"Barabbas!" he exclaimed, taking hold of the murderer, "don't you remember what we determined? We only kill those who fight; we do not kill defenceless persons."
Barabbas removed his thin arms from his victim and in a tearful voice grumbled: "Dismas, you are dreadful. I'm old now, and am I to have no more pleasure?"
Dismas said meaningly: "If the old man does not keep his agreement, the troop will have its pleasure, and, for a change, swing him who likes to be called king of the desert."
That had the desired effect. Barabbas knew the band cared much more for Dismas than for himself, and he did not wish matters to come to a climax.
When day dawned a mule was led to Simeon. One of his slaves, with his wounded arm in a sling, was allowed him, and he carried some bread and his cloak, and led the beast. And so the citizen of Jerusalem returned to the town he had left a week before under such brilliant circumstances, a defeated and plundered man.
The affair attracted great attention in the city. Armed incursions were eagerly made into the desert between Jerusalem and the Jordan, where one evil deed after another was reported. Even the Rabbis and Pharisees preached a campaign to clear the rocks and sandy flats of the dangerous and destructive hordes by which they were infested. The famous band of the chiefs, Barabbas and Dismas—so it was said—were not the worst. Much more ominous were the vagrant crowds that gathered about the so-called Messiah from Nazareth, who, feeling himself safe in the desert, indulged in disorderly speeches and acts. So it was settled to send out a large company of soldiers, led by the violent Pharisee, Saul, a weaver who had left his calling out of zeal for the law, in order to free the land from the mob of robbers and heretics.
Now about this time Dismas, the old robber-chief, fell into deep contrition. His heart had never really been in his criminal calling. Murder was particularly hateful to him, and, so far as he was free to do so, he had always sought to avoid it. Now even plundering and robbing became hateful to him. In the night he had visions of the terrible Jehovah. He thought of John, the desert preacher, and considered it high time to repent. So one day he said to Barabbas:
"Do you know, comrade, there is just now a prince at the oasis of Silam who has with him immensely more wealth than that citizen of Jerusalem? I know his position and his people, and I know how to get at him. Shall we take this lord?"
"If you continue to be so useless, Dismas, you'll be flung to the vultures." Such were the terms in which Barabbas thanked his ally. It was decided that the attack should be made. Dismas led the band towards the oasis of Silam. Barabbas went with his steed decorated with gay-coloured feathers, an iron coronet on his head. For it was a prince whom he was to visit! Dismas encamped his men under a rocky precipice. And when at night time all rested in order to be fit for the attack on the princely train early in the morning, Dismas climbed the rocks and gave the signal. The Roman soldiery hidden behind the rocks cut down all who opposed them, and took the rest prisoners, Dismas and Barabbas among them. When the latter saw that he had been betrayed, he began to rage in his chains like a wild animal.
"What would you have brother?" said Dismas to Barabbas, who had often scorned him so bitterly. "Am I not a prisoner, too? Haven't you always preached that right lay with the stronger? So then the Romans are right this time. Once you betrayed me and forced me to join the plundering Bedouins, most excellent Barabbas, and now it's my turn. I've betrayed you to the arm of Rome. And we'll probably be impaled!" Then, as if that were a real delight, he brought his hand down cheerfully on his companion's shoulder so that his chains rattled. "Yes, my dearest brother, they will impale us!"
They were brought in gangs to Jerusalem, where they lay in prison for many long months awaiting death. On account of his self-surrender, Dismas had been granted his wish for solitary confinement. He desired, undisturbed, to take stock of his wasted life. A never-ending line of dark, bloody figures passed before him. But there was one patch of light amid the gloom. It had happened many years ago, but he had a very clear remembrance of that distant hour. A young mother with her child rode on an ass. The infant spread out his little arms and looked at him. But never in his life had human creature looked at him like that child had looked, with such a glance of ardent love.
If only once again, before he died, he could but see a beam of light like that.