He woke His comrades in one of the next nights and said: "Get up and let the others sleep; they will not go with us, our way is too hard.

Enemies will be on us. Whoever of you fears, let him lie down again."

Many did lie down again, and those who went with the Master numbered twelve.

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

Or, as He put it differently: "G.o.d is to be found in the spirit!"

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

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

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

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

exclaimed the host. And Jesus related the following:

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

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

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

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

Things did not go so well with our fugitive in other places. An evil slander about the Baptist was spread abroad--that he was a glutton and a wine-bibber! Jesus heard of it, and said: "John the Baptist fasted.

They said of him that he was possessed by a demon. It is neither eating nor fasting that they object to in the prophets; it is the truth which they speak."

Then they came to villages and farms where they wished to rest, but none would give them shelter. This angered the Master. The dust on the ground was not worthy to remain sticking to the feet of those who came to bring the Kingdom of G.o.d. The heartless would be thrust aside!

But anger was turned into pitiful love. When a contrite man approached Him He raised him up with both arms, encouraged him, taught him to be kind, showed him the joy of life, and how to penetrate the sacred recesses of his own being--self-examination.

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

CHAPTER XXIII

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

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

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

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

The disciples who had not hitherto travelled much, found a new world in the harbours of Tyre and Sidon, a world of folk and wares from every quarter of the earth, strange people and strange customs. They had never before seen men work with such industry in the warehouses, on the wharves, on the ships; yet others gave themselves up to continual idleness, trotting half-naked along the beach, begging with loud pertinacity in the harbour, or shamelessly basking in the sun. Look!

the lepers are limping about, complacently exhibiting their sores. One of the disciples looked questioningly at the Master, wondering if He would heal them? Then, perhaps, they would believe in Him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But felt, sir!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon after they wandered forth and left the noisy seaport behind them.

As the roads became more and more unsafe, they climbed the rocks and took the way across the mountains.

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

CHAPTER XXIV

The following incident took place during the journey among the mountains of Lebanon. One day they were resting under an old weather-beaten cedar. The rain trickled through the bristling bush of needles from one branch to another on to the hats under the broad brims of which the men cowered, their legs drawn up under them, their arms crossed over their chests. Tired and somewhat out of humour, they looked out into the damp mist against which the near summits and ma.s.ses of rock stood out. The hair and beards of the older men had turned grey, and even the faces of the younger seemed to have aged. For their hardships had been great. But the glow in their eyes was not quenched.

They had laid aside their long staffs; the sacks which some carried on their backs were wrinkled and empty. A little way off was a tree-trunk, so big that three men could hardly have encompa.s.sed it; the bark was white and rough, so that it seemed as if spirits had carved mysterious signs thereon in pure silver. Jesus, a little apart from His disciples, was resting under this tree. He was, as usual, without a hat, and His abundant nut-brown hair fell over His shoulders. His indescribably beautiful face was paler than formerly. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed His eyes.

The disciples thought He slept, and in order not to wake Him they looked at one another and spoke in whispers. Their hearts were full of the impressions of their late experiences. They thought of the persecution in their native land, the attractiveness of the big world, and their ignorance of the future. Many of them during this gloomy rest-time thought of their former lives. Who is managing my boat? Who tends my fruit-trees? Who works in my workshop? Who sits in the profitable toll-house? Who is providing for my wife, my children?

There had been a triumphant progress through the land and then a flight. Men had not recognised the Master. If He would only say distinctly and clearly who He was! Meanwhile the outlook was desperate. As if they had run after a demagogue, a traitor, an anti-Jew! How could an anti-Jew be King of the Jews? If He would only say who He was!

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

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

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