 CHAPTER XV. A DAY OF THE KING'S LIFE. After that our Lord was very busy with his great work of helping people. At first in Capernaum, and then in other places in Galilee, he went about preaching and blessing. Some of these words of wisdom and works of wonder are written down in the four records of his life which are called the Gospels. Once we have an account of almost a whole day, we know what he did in the morning and in the afternoon and in the evening. The place was Capernaum on the lake of Galilee, where several of the apostles lived, and where our Lord spent so much of his ministry that it was called his own city. It was then a busy town, though to-day nobody knows just where it stood, so completely has it fallen into ruins. A week had now passed since the Sabbath at Nazareth, and the Holy Day had come again, and again our Lord with his disciples went to the service. Here, as at Nazareth, people had been talking together about him, telling what had happened at the wedding feast and in the synagogue. And one day that week he had used Peter's fishing boat for a pulled-bit, sitting in it a little way from the land while the congregation stood upon the shore. And after the sermon he had gone out on the lake with Peter and Andrew and James and John while they fished, and they caught so many fish that their net broke and even the boats were filled so full that they began to sink. After that the fishermen fished no more for a long time but went about everywhere with Jesus. People knew that and talked about it. So when our Lord entered everybody in the church turned around to see him. The prophet has come, they whispered. There he is in the midst of his disciples. And naturally enough, when the time came for reading the Bible in the service, Jesus was called upon to read and preach. And so he did, and they were all astonished at his teaching. Did you ever hear anybody speak in a very loud and unnatural voice as if he was speaking a peace, and then somebody else speak quietly and naturally as if he were talking just to you? That is the difference between the sermons which were usually preached in the synagogue and the sermons which our Lord preached. Now there was in the synagogue that morning a man with an unclean spirit, or as we would say a lunatic. The mind is still a deep mystery to us, even after all the wisdom of the wisest men. A diseased mind still perplexes the doctors. In that day they said of some such persons that they had a devil, meaning that an evil spirit dwelt within them and spoke with their lips and threw them into fits and tormented them. Nowadays the doctors speak of a subliminal self and a dual personality, meaning practically the same thing. Only now people who have evil spirits are not allowed to go to church, but are shut up in hospitals. This poor man had an unclean spirit. That is, in addition to the man's own natural self there was another self, another spirit, which would take possession of him. There he sat then in the synagogue among his neighbors, a miserable being, and our Lord spoke, and the man listened, and suddenly the other self cried out, Let us alone, let us alone, what have we done with thee thou Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to destroy us? I know thee who then art, the holy one of God. And Jesus rebuked him saying, Hold thy peace and come out of him. And the man fell upon the floor, and when he came to his senses again, his other self, the evil spirit, had gone out of him. That was an interesting thing to happen in church during the sermon. Some of the people did not like it at all, feeling that he ought not to have done it on the Sabbath. They were very careful about the way in which they kept the Sabbath, and had made a great many rules about it, so that the day which God made for people to rest in, and to rejoice and be glad in, had become like a day in jail. Our Lord paid no attention to these rules, but lived as naturally and freely on that day as on any other. He said that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath, and that they kept the holy day in the holiest way who made it a beautiful and happy day for themselves and for their neighbors. And the people did not like it. They said nothing that Sabbath in Capernaum, but they thought much. Afterwards it was one of the chief matters of complaint against him. But many of the congregation were greatly pleased and astonished, partly by the sermon and partly by the miracle. What thing is this? they cried. What new teaching is this? He speaks even to the unclean spirits, and they obey him. So they stood talking on the steps of the meeting-house, watching him as he walked with his disciples down the street, the man who had been cured walking with them. He was to dine that day at Peter's house, but there was sickness in the family. Peter was married, and his wife's mother made her home with him, and she had a fever. Peter's wife had stayed at home from church to take care of her, and now she met them at the door with the troubled face. And Peter said, How is your mother? And she said, Much worse. And our Lord said, What is it? What is the matter? And they told him. And he went in where the sick woman lay, and took her by the hand, and lifted her up. And she was strong and well again, and rose and ministered to them. She went into the kitchen and helped to get the dinner. That afternoon the news went from house to house through all the town, and that night after the sun was set and the air was cool and the Sabbath day was over, they brought to him all the sick folk of the neighborhood, some on beds and some on crutches, crowding all the street before the house, and the Lord came out and stood in the front door, and laid his hands on many of them, and healed them. Thus the busy day was ended amidst the thanks of grateful people, but there were many others like it. Day by day Jesus went about doing good. His heart was full of compassion, and he was very sorry when he saw anybody in trouble. He was not the only person who was curing the sick by a word and a touch, and casting out devils. Many ministers were doing that, and many people have done the same sense, even to this day. It has always been wonderful, this effect of a strong mind on a weak body. Even now the men of science do not understand it. It is one among many strange facts which nobody is able to explain. What we do understand is that our Lord was filled with the spirit of pity and mercy. The Son of God, who by his life and words taught us about God, was full of kindness and affection for the sons of men. That is the meaning of the miracles, and it is more important than any miracle. The next morning, rising up a great while before day, he went out and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed. There Peter and the others found him and said, All men seek for thee. And he answered, Let us go into the next towns, that I may preach there also, for therefore came I forth. CHAPTER XVI. THE BROKEN ROOF. So the king went to the next towns, and then the others farther off, but rarely very far. Most of this part of his ministry was spent so near the lake of Galilee that from every hill he could look back and see the shining of the blue water. His new friends, the fishermen, went with him, making a pleasant company as they walked and talked along the greenways, and sat at noon in the cool of the great trees. And the king stood in the marketplaces of the little towns and spoke to the people who were gathered there, telling them always that the kingdom of heaven was at hand, and that if they wished to see it they must put away their sins, and that whoever saw it would find it beautiful and satisfying beyond all imagination. And this was called the gospel. That is, the good news, for that is what the word means. So he went about telling the good news, and in all the places he found sick people, on whom he laid his hands, that he might make them well. This he preferred to do quietly and privately, for he did not like excitement or crowds or to have people staring at him. Sometimes he asked the sick not to tell who healed them, but they were usually so very happy and thankful that they could not keep it to themselves. And the result was that our Lord could not stay any longer in the towns, but walked in the country among the farms. One day, however, he came back to Capernaum and went into a house, probably Peter's house, and people heard that he was there and again the street before the house was crowded, though this time the crowd was mostly made up of wealth people. Some who had come that other day on crutches were now walking as briskly as if they had gone on two feet all their lives, and Jesus preached to them. He preached the gospel to the poor, and deliverance to those held captive by falsehood or by sin, and the acceptable year of the Lord. There they stood, listening. Now there was a young man in Capernaum who was paralyzed so that he could not walk. It may be that he could not even talk, for in the midst of all the wonders of that day he seems to have said nothing. We may guess that he was a young man, for we shall presently hear our Lord calling him Son. And our Lord was only thirty years of age. He was a young man then, looking forward to a long life of uselessness and pain. Moreover, lying as he did day after day, much of the time alone, he had opportunity to think. And there were thoughts in his heart which had not come to him when he was strong and active, busy with work and play. He learned as he lay there that he was sick in his soul as well as in his body. He began to realize his sins. He began to see that, while it is bad enough to have a lame body. It is much worse to have a pale, thin, weak and lame soul. And when he prayed God to make him well, he asked to be free not only from his palsy, but from his sins. The young man had four friends, and when they heard that our Lord was coming into town, they met together. The Prophet is here. They said one to another. He is in Peter's house. You know what happened that morning in the synagogue, and that evening in the street in front of Peter's house, how he healed the sick. Let us take our friend to him, that he may lay his hands on him and heal him. So they came in with this great plan, and there on his bed lay the sick man. It was a very simple bed, only a quilt or a blanket spread upon the floor, and they took each man a corner and carried him out into the street. But as they came near to Peter's house, they saw the crowd. It was a great crowd filling all the street, and it was plain that they could not get through it. There was the Master in the house, but they could not reach him. What should they do? The wide door was open, and the Master sat within. But a hundred people stood between. How could they come into his presence? The house, like the other houses, was but a single story high, and the roof was flat. There was an outside stairway leading up, for the roof was a cool place in hot days. The lake winds swept across it. People sat on the roof in that country, as we sit on the porch. So the men climbed up. Up they went with much difficulty, the two who were ahead bending down, and the two who were behind holding their arms up, to keep the posied man from falling out. And when they got upon the roof, what did they do, but begin to break a hole in it? They kicked with their heels and pulled with their hands, and the people below heard a great noise going on above, and pretty soon splinters began to fall upon their heads, and there, as they looked up, was a man's strong hand, and his arm and shoulder, and by and by his face. And at last there were the faces of four men looking down through a large opening, and the four took the blanket and let the sick man down through the broken roof, right at the master's feet. Our Lord looked at them, and then at him. He was glad to see how sure they were that he would help them, and the young man's face was like an open book, and his eyes prayed, though his lips were still. His eyes said, Lord help me, help me to get rid of my sins and of my sickness. But his sins troubled him most, and our Lord answered the longing of the sick man's heart. Son, he said, thy sins are forgiven thee. For that was a part of the gospel which he preached, that our Father in heaven forgives the sins of all those who are truly sorry and wish to do better. So he said, speaking very kindly and affectionately, son, thy sins be forgiven thee. For he knew that the soul is the most important part of a man, and that to have a sick soul is the worst of all possible ills. And he ministered to the sick soul before he did anything about the sick body. But in the house were certain scribes sitting. A scribe is a man who writes, as a prophet is a man who speaks. That is what the names mean. And there is a wider difference than that. The words which the prophet spoke were new words, which they had heard from God. But the words which the scribes wrote were old words, copied out of old books, mostly out of old law books. The prophet was a man of the present and of the future. But the scribe was a man of the past. The scribes were very conservative persons. That is, they like to have everything go on in the old way, by rule. Already they had begun to distrust and dislike our Lord, because he spoke, not as one who is reciting a dull lesson, but as one who is telling what he thinks himself. And when the scribes heard him say, Thy sins be forgiven thee, they were shocked greatly. They began to whisper among themselves, saying, Who is this that speaks thus in the place of God? Who can forgive sins but God only? And Jesus read their minds as he had read the eyes of the sick man, and he said unto them, Why reason ye these things in your hearts, which is easier to say? Thy sins be forgiven thee, or to say, Rise up and walk? But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins. Turning to the sick man, I say unto thee, Arise and take up thy bed, and go thy way into thine house. And immediately the man arose and took up his blanket, and went forth before them all, the crowd parting to let him through, all being amazed and saying, We have seen strange things today. Long after our Lord said to his disciples that they were to do just as he had done. When they saw a sinner who was sorry for his sins, they were to assure him of the forgiveness of God. And the sins, he said, which you shall thus forgive shall be forgiven in heaven. But the scribes looked in their old books, and though they found something about the priest in the temple for giving sins, they found nothing which seemed to them to justify our Lord's great words. And the deed of mercy which he did served only to embitter them against him. I said that our Lord at the beginning of his ministry stayed most of the time near the lake of Galilee. But the great days came as the year went round. The great days of the church, when all who could get away from home, made a journey to the temple. So our Lord went also to pray in the great church, which they called the House of God. And one day there was a feast of the Jews, and all the roads to Jerusalem were filled with pilgrims on their way to church, and Jesus and his disciples went up with them. The temple stood on a rocky hill, looking out over all the country round. At the foot of the hill there was a spring, and a little stream of cold water running out of it. They had a sheet market by the side of the stream, for the sheep were thirsty after being driven in over dusty roads out of the country. There was always a flock of them with their noses in the water drinking, and there were men buying and selling. But besides the shepherds and the men who were buying sheep, there were always other people who were there. Not for that business, but for medicine. Amongst the shepherds and the butchers and the priests who were getting lamped for the sacrifices at the temple were sick folks in great numbers, some of them blind, some of them laying, who had come to bathe in the spring. The water bubbled up out of the ground in a great pool, and beside the pool was a porch with five arches, and the sick people lay on blankets in the porch waiting for the moving of the water. For this was a strange pool. Sometimes the water lay so still that the sick folks could use it for a looking glass and could see their thin and anxious faces in it, all but the blind ones. But presently there would be a great commotion in the water, as if somebody were blowing it with the breath of a giant, or were stirring it with a huge stick. And some people thought that this was caused by an angel going down into the clear pool. And as soon as this happened the sick people scrambled down as best they could into the water, and the sickest were helped down by their friends. The idea was that whoever got in first would be made whole of whatsoever disease he had. It must have been a strange sight, that crowd of miserable people, limping and crawling and rolling down into the pool. Now one day our Lord came by, and he was very sorry, for his heart was always full of compassion for those who were in trouble. It made him sad, too, to see them struggling so one against another, each trying to be the first and to get the blessing for himself. So he stopped and looked, and there among the crowd he saw one man who had been sick longer than the others. He had had an infirmity thirty and eight years. He had hardly had a well day since he was a boy. There he lay close by the pool, waiting for the angel, but waiting always in vain. For when the spring began to stir somebody else always got in before him. When Jesus saw him lie there and knew that he had been now a long time in that condition he said to him, Do you wish to get well? To get well. That was what the man desired with all his heart, though he had almost ceased to hope. So he answered, Sir, I am a poor man, and I have no friends. When the water is beginning to stir I have no man to put me into the pool. But while I am coming another steps down before me. Then our Lord said, Arise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man started to get up. That shows that he had great faith in our Lord. He had never seen him before. Probably he had never even heard of him. But he saw him now, and heard his voice, and he believed in him with all his heart. Some men would have said, Why I can't do that. You don't know how sick I am. I have been lame all my life, almost forty years. I can't get up. But this man tried. When Jesus told him to get up, he tried to do it. And when he cried, God gave him strength. So he took up his bed and walked. But it happened that that day was the Sabbath. You remember that the people had made themselves a great many rules about it. The commandment said that nobody should work on that day, meaning that there should be a good holiday every week, and that all people, especially those who worked very hard, should have a rest. But the ministers had been so anxious that the day should be a rest day that they had tried to keep the people from doing anything at all. They had spoiled the beautiful day. One of their rules was that it was wrong to carry anything during the Sabbath. So when they saw this man, with his glad face, leaping up and down as he walked, first on one leg, and then on the other to make sure that they were both sound and strong, and carrying his bed rolled up in a bundle under his arm, they stopped him. They said, It is the Sabbath day. It is not lawful for thee to carry thy bed. He answered them, I have been a sick man lying on my bed for eight and thirty years, and today I have been cured at the pool of the angel. He that made me whole, the same said to me, Take up thy bed and walk. Then they asked him in an angry voice, What man is that which said unto thee, Take up thy bed and walk? They did not think at all what a good and wonderful and blessed thing it was that this poor neighbor of theirs had been made well. All that they thought of was that one of their little rules had been broken. They were angry with the man for being healed, and with our Lord for having healed him. All this seems very strange to us, though there are still people who care more for their own way than they do for the bodies or even the souls of their fellow men. Such persons made many a complaint during our Lord's ministry, for he went straight on doing good deeds no matter what day of the week it was. One Sabbath day he was in a synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand, and they watched him whether he would heal him on the Sabbath day that they might accuse him, and he called the man to come and stand up where all could see him. So there he stood, the poor man with his useless arm. Now he said, Say what is in your hearts? Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath days? And they said never a word, and he looked around upon them all with deep indignation, being grieved because their hearts were so hard that they thought of their rules rather than the need of the man. And he said to the man, Stretch forth thine hand, and he stretched it out, and his hand was restored whole as the other. But the man who came from the pool of the angel did not know who our Lord was, so when they said, Who told you to carry your bed on the Sabbath day? He could not answer, for our Lord had gone away through the crowd. Afterwards Jesus found the man in the temple, and said unto him, Behold thou art made whole, sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee. Meaning that sin is worse than sickness, and that disease of the soul is a worse thing than disease of the body. But the Jews not only hated our Lord for what he had done, but from that day forth they sought to kill him, because he had done these things on the Sabbath day. CHAPTER 18 The King Stops a Funeral You remember that Nazareth was in the midst of the hills, and that on the south lay a wide plain. From the Nazareth heights across the plain one could see the white houses of a village called Nain, built on a hillside. In this village there lived a poor widow with her only son. One day this son, his mother's consolation and hope and support, fell sick and died. It was very sad, and everybody in the village was full of sympathy for the mother, so that when the day came for the funeral there was a great company of people to join their tears with hers. The word Nain means pleasant, and pleasant it was indeed amidst the trees, looking out north and east and west toward the high mountains, and even having a glimpse when the sun was shining of the blue sea. But the poor mother did not look at the view, nor did she know whether the sky above her head was black or white. Everything was dark before her eyes. A rough, steep path led up the hill to the village, and down this path came the funeral procession. First morning women making a loud lamentation, then young men carrying the body on a wide flat board, then the mother, and after her the people up the town. But as they started to go down another and very different companies started to go up. There was quite a crowd of these people, some from Capernaum, some from the country round about, fishermen and farmers in rough clothes, and among them one who was dressed as they were, but to whom they all gave reverence. And as they went he talked, while they all listened eagerly. And there they met on the side of the hill in the middle of the rocky path, the procession of mourners and he who came, as he said, to bind up the broken-hearted. So our Lord saw the poor mother and was very sorry. And immediately he said what we all say when we see anyone crying. He said, don't cry. Only when we say that our friends go on crying just the same, and we cannot do anything except show our sympathy. When our Lord said, don't cry, he knew how to change tears into smiles. For he put out his hand and touched the beer. He touched the board on which the dead men lay. And they who bear him stood still. And the mother stopped in her sad journey and looked up to see what it all meant. And all the people of the two companies crowded around. And our Lord said, young man, I say unto thee, arise. And he that was dead, sat up and began to speak. What did he say? Did he finish some sentence which death had suddenly interrupted? Or did he greet his mother as one who comes back from a strange journey? Or was his first word a thanksgiving to the one who had thus enabled him to go on caring for his mother? It is all unknown to us. It is all a mystery. Both the words which he spoke and the power which made him able to speak. But this we know that our Lord cared. Sometimes death comes in such a way that it seems as if God does not care when the young and strong who are so much loved and so much needed are taken away. Then we may remember that day at Nain. God does not stop the funeral, but he cares. He is sorry for those who mourn. For he who came up the hill at Nain was in God, and God in him. And when we know him we know God as he said. And this too we know that every morning God raises us from the death of sleep to the light of a new day. Every morning he gives us back our life. What did the young man of Nain do with his new life? Our Lord told him what to do with it, for he delivered him to his mother. It was like that day on the cross when he said, Son, behold thy mother. He meant that the young man was to be a good son, obedient and loving, better than he had ever been before. So the procession turned straight about, and all the morning women stopped their crying and wiped their eyes, and the sky overhead was blue with the sun shining in the midst of it. And the people glorified God, some saying, A great prophet is risen up among us. Others, God hath visited his people. And the mother and her son walked side by side, and Jesus was with them. End of Chapter 18 Chapter 19 of When the King Came This Librivox recording is in the public domain. When the King came, stories from the Four Gospels by George Hodges. Chapter 19 The Stilling of a Storm Another time our Lord had been teaching all day long, and as the sun began to go down he was very tired, but the people would not go away. They begged him to continue speaking, and he knew that if he walked away they would all follow him. But the place where he was teaching was by the side of the lake. Probably he sat in a boat anchored near the shore, as he often did. His favorite pulpit was a boat. There was one way to get apart from the crowd, and that was to row out into the lake. Our Lord beckoned therefore to Peter or John, and told him to take up the anchor and row out. Though even then the people ran down and got all the boats which were fastened there, and rowed out after him. But they were all so interested in our Lord's great words, and so intent on keeping as near him as they could, that not one of them looked at the sky. So when the storm came it took them unawares. The water is a bad place for a storm. Up comes the fierce wind, and blows and blows, and the sky is black with hanging clouds. Up come the threatening waves, each with its white cap, blustering about, and the boat rolls and tosses, and turns this way and that. And sometimes the water gets into it, and down it goes. And sometimes the wind tips the boat over, and throws the people into the water so that they never come up again. But all this is very dreadful indeed, when the danger appears suddenly, because nobody is ready for it. The waves are peaceful and pleasant, and the boat is going quietly along, when all at once the wind comes leaping down from some opening in the hills along the shore, as if it had taken a quick run to get a start, and then had jumped right over into the middle of the water. And before the people have time to think twice the wind is shaking them as a giant might shake a body. This is the way in which storms often behave on the Lake of Galilee, and thus did the storm conduct itself that evening when our Lord and some of his disciples had launched out into the deep. I said that he had been teaching all the day and was very tired. Boys and girls do not understand that teaching is hard work. They do not realize that their teachers get tired. It seems to them that the only persons in the school who have a hard time are those who have to study and recite. Teaching is not so bad when everybody is interested and responsive. Sometimes children are asked, what do you pay for coming to this school? And the right answer is, we pay attention. Teaching is easy when all the scholars pay attention, all the people to whom our Lord spoke paid attention. There was no trouble about that. The things that he said were so interesting, and he said them in such an interesting way, that everybody was interested. But his hearers did not all like what he said, as we shall see by and by. They did not even like what he did, as we have seen already. So in every company of listeners there were enemies, and as the months went by, the number of them increased. Our Lord saw their objecting faces, and heard them whisper one to another, and it was very hard. So that day, after hours of this hard work, the first thing that he did as the boat began to move through the water, and the crowd was left behind, was to go into the stern of the boat, and lie down with his head on a cushion. There he fell asleep, and no sooner was he fast asleep than the storm came. Black clouds hastened from their hiding places behind the hills, white waves pushed and pulled and clutched at the boat, and pretty soon there was so much water in the bottom of it that some of the men had to stop rowing and begin to bail. Still the wind blew harder and harder, and the waves roared louder and louder, and rose higher and higher, and the boat rocked faster and faster, and farther and farther. And at last the disciples were very much afraid. They had been on that lake every day since they were little boys, and had weathered many a storm. But it seemed as if they had never seen a tempest like this. The water poured in faster than they could bail it out. It began to look as if the boat, and all who were in it, must go to the bottom. Meanwhile our Lord was still asleep. The howling of the wind had not awakened him, nor the pitching of the boat, nor even the cold water splashing over him. It shows how tired he was. Finally the disciples called to him with loud voices. Master! Master! they cried. We perish! And some said. Master! We perish! Save us! Who ever heard anything like that? A crew of fishermen who knew all about a boat and all about a storm turned for assistance to a carpenter. Of what use is a carpenter in an open boat on a high sea? You remember that Jesus was brought up in a hill-town, where the only water was in the bottom of the village well. It is not likely that he had had any experience in boats, and the fishermen knew that. This is what makes it so remarkable that they should have called for help from him. It shows that they had already come to see that he was the wisest and the strongest and the best man they had ever known. They felt that only God could save them, and that Jesus was very near to God. So they cried, waking him out of his deep sleep. Master! Master! we sink! Save us! And he arose and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still! And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm, and he said unto them, Why are you so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith? Then they were almost as much afraid of him as they had been of the sea, saying one to another as the waves went down. What manner of man is this that even the wind and the sea obey him? Afterwards, when they told this story, there was another which they liked to tell with it. About how one time some of the disciples were rowing by themselves one evening on the lake, having left our Lord on the shore, and suddenly the wind began to blow and the waves began to rise, and they rowed and rowed and got no nearer to the shore. And then they saw a dim light out across the water, and it seemed to move and to draw near to them. And there in the middle of the lake was a man walking on the water, and they were filled with great fear and cried, It is a ghost! But the man spoke in a voice which they knew, saying, It is I, be not afraid. And there was our Lord walking across the wet waves as if he were walking through the grass of a meadow. So he got into the boat, and the wind ceased to blow. That is what they said, and some added that Peter, seeing our Lord coming over the lake, said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water. And he told him to come. So Peter began to walk on the water, but the wind was boisterous, blowing hard against him, and the water was rough, and Peter was afraid, and as he began to fear he began to sink. So that he cried, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore dits thou doubt? These wonderful stories have never been explained, but this much is plain, that if we have Jesus in our company, no storm shall ever bring us to shipwreck. The winds of disaster blow, and the waves of misfortune rise, and Jesus seems far distant, asleep or on the shore. Even when he comes to our assistance across the troubled water, the sight seems too good to be true, and we cannot believe our eyes, thinking that we see only a vision. But it is he himself who has promised to be with us and to help us, everywhere and always, till all storms are stilled and all our boats are safe on shore. Now on the other side of the lake of Galilee, where the boat landed after the stilling of the storm, the people were all heathen. They were Greeks, probably descendants from soldiers of Alexander, who had settled there after the wars were over. The great power of the world at that time, however, was not Greece, but Rome. So there were Roman soldiers quartered in the Greek cities across the lake, who protected the people, but oppressed them at the same time. The shore was in many places steep and rocky, with the valleys of rivers running back into the country, and on the shore, as Jesus and his disciples drew near in the boat, they saw a sight which they could not have seen anywhere on their own side of the lake. They saw a great herd of swine feeding. You know that Jews never ate pork, nor do they eat it to this day, so they kept no pigs. But the Greeks kept pigs, and there they were, feeding at the top of the cliffs. Moreover, as the disciples looked, they saw something else which they disliked to see, and that was a graveyard. For the Jews were very particular as to what they touched. They had a great desire to be always pleasing to God, and they thought that there were some things in the world which God objected to, and that whoever even touched such things must wash himself, saying many prayers, and so make himself clean, before God could receive him again. Pigs were considered unclean, and pagan people were unclean, and whatever was dead was unclean, according to their rules. When our Lord put out his hand and touched the widow's son at Nain, many who stood by thought it very strange. They said nothing about it in the great joy of the moment, but they spoke of it afterwards and did not like it. So here were three unclean things at the same time. It was a pagan land, and pigs were feeding in it beside a graveyard. The truth is that our Lord paid no attention to these rules. One time he spoke very plainly, and said that it is not that which enters a man's lips by which he is defiled, but that which comes out. That is, it does not matter so much what we eat as what we say. To speak an evil word is worse than to break all the rules about unclean things. And for this the people who were in authority hated him. They hated him because he disregarded their distinctions between the clean and the unclean, as they did because he cared so little for their rules about the Sabbath. But now coming down from the rocks to the shore was something worse than a pig or a pagan or a graveyard. Down came a wild man. The wild man had his dwelling among the tombs, living in the holes in the rocks in which lay the bones of the dead. At night when it was dark and still those who passed by could hear him crying and screaming in a dreadful voice. And in the daytime anybody who came near enough, though most people kept as far away as possible, could see him running about and wringing his hands and cutting himself with sharp stones so that he was covered with blood. The man had a home and friends and several times his friends had come and caught him and tried to keep him from hurting himself any more. They had tied him up with ropes and even with chains. But every time he had broken loose, like Sampson, and had got away. There he was, his hair blowing about his face jumping up and down, waving his arms, crying out dreadful things, and making his way as fast as he could along the rocks to the place where our Lord's boat was coming in. It seemed a bad place to land. No doubt had the disciples been by themselves, they would have turned the boat away. Even as it was, they must have trembled, and they probably stood a little behind our Lord. But the wild man, when he came where they were, did not try to hurt them. He fell down on his knees on the wet sand at our Lord's feet, crying out with a loud voice. What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of God most high? For the wild man had an evil spirit. He was a crazy person. And our Lord, as the man came, commanded the evil spirit to come out of him. It was the man's other self, his evil self, who spoke. He cried, Do not torment me. And Jesus said, What is your name? And the man said, Legion. A Legion was a great regiment of Roman soldiers, and men used the word when they meant a great number, and when they thought of power and cruelty. So the man said that his name was Legion, meaning that many evil spirits had their abode in him. Do not torment us, cried the spirits. Let us go into the swine. And suddenly, as he spoke, there was a great commotion among the swine. The crazy man rushed towards them, and the drove of pigs, grunting and scrambling, hurried away in a fierce panic, on and on towards the edge of the steep cliff and over into the deep water. And the men who were in charge of them, who with all their sticks and cries had not been able to prevent their mad plunge into the sea, ran as fast as they could go into the near town. And there declared that a thousand devils had gone out of the crazy man into the herd of swine. So the owner came to see what had happened, and there were the pigs drowned in the sea, and the man sitting quiet and at peace at the feet of Jesus clothed and in his right mind. And when the disciples told them what was done, they were both afraid and angry, for they were more concerned about their pigs than they were about the man. There was the poor man, their neighbor, delivered from his dreadful state, but their pigs were gone. And do you know what they did? They asked our Lord to go away. They told him that they did not want him in their country. The sun had set, and it was now growing dark. But the darkest place in that neighborhood was not in the midst of the thick trees, nor even in the caves of the graveyard, where the man had lived among the dead. It was in the hearts of the owners of the swine. People do not often keep droves of pigs nowadays in our part of the country, but they keep other things. They keep stores and mills and houses and lands and money. Whenever they think more about getting these things and keeping them than about the bodies and souls of their fellow men, then they are like the people of Gregeza, who cared so much for the pigs that they sent our Lord away. After that, the man who had been cured asked Jesus that he might join the company of his disciples. But Jesus told him that the best thing that he could do was to go back to his own home, to his wife and children and his neighbors and tell them what great things God had done for him. So our Lord and the others got into the boat and rode away over the dark lake, and the man went into the city and stopped all whom he met and told them about the power and love of Jesus. CHAPTER XXI There were two kinds of churches in that country, the temple in Jerusalem and the synagogues in other places. There was only one temple, and it was great and beautiful as we have seen, like a cathedral with carved stone and brass. There the Feast of the Passover and the Feast of Pentecost and the Feast of Tabernacles, like Easter and Witt Sunday and Christmas, were celebrated, and the sacrifices were offered. The men who conducted these services were called priests. There were a great many synagogues, at least one in every town and village of the Jews' own country and in every place about the world where Jews were living. They looked, as I have said, like New England meeting-houses and the services which were held in them consisted of Bible reading and preaching. The men who conducted them were called ministers and rulers of the synagogue. Thus there was much the same difference then that there is now between priests and ministers. One of the ministers of the Capernaum synagogue was named Jairus. He had one only daughter, a little girl of twelve, and she was very sick, so that day by day she grew worse rather than better. Until at last the doctor had to tell her father and mother that he could do no more. She lay adying, but that very morning our Lord came back from his hasty visit to the land across the lake, and found all the people waiting for him. For Jairus remembered that wonderful Sabbath in the synagogue when Jesus had cast out the unclean spirit, and he felt, and his friends felt, that our Lord might help him in his deep distress. So out of the waiting crowd came the minister, as our Lord approached, and fell down at his feet, and begged him to come into his house. My little daughter, he said, lies at the point of death, but come and lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live. And immediately our Lord raised him up and followed him. But there was a great crowd in the street. Some were there from curiosity, that they might see him. Some because they had heard him speak, and wished to hear him speak again, desiring to know more about God and the kingdom of God. Some because they were in trouble, and hoped that he might help them. And in the crowd that day there was one woman who was in two kinds of trouble at the same time. She was both sick and poor. She had spent all her money, and she had spent it all upon the doctors, trying to get well, in vain. The worst use of money is to spend it for things which make the spender and his friends sick. But the next to the worst use is to spend it in seeking for health without finding it. This poor woman had gone to one physician after another. Every doctor in Capernaum had knocked at her door, and not one had done her any good. There she was, able to walk out a little way in the street, but still hopelessly sick. And that day as she walked she heard the footsteps and voices of a crowd coming behind her, and looking about she saw our Lord in the midst of them. And immediately she said to herself, if I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole. But she was very timid. She did not dare to go to him before all those people, and tell him how she needed his blessing. She just waited till the throng overtook her, and mingled with the others, and made her way nearer and nearer to him. And at last got where she could put out her hand and touch his cloak. And at once she was made whole. But the King stopped. He looked about upon the crowd and said, Who touched me? Who pulled my coat? And one drew back and said, Not I. And another said, Not I. And Peter said, Master, the multitude throng thee, and press thee, and sayest thou, who touched me? But our Lord repeated the question. Somebody, he said, hath touched me. For I perceive that strength has gone out to somebody here, from me. Then when the woman saw that she could not be hid, she came trembling, and fell down on her knees before him in the dusty road, and told him what had happened. And he put his hand upon her head. Daughter, he said, Be of good comfort, thy faith hath made thee whole. Meanwhile the minister stood by, anxious and impatient, thinking of his little daughter. And as the woman went away, and our Lord turned to go with him to his house, there came a messenger with great sadness, saying, It is all over. Do not trouble the master further. The little daughter is dead. But when Jesus heard it, he said, Fear not, only believe, and she shall be made whole. So they went on together. And as they came near the minister's house, they heard the sound of crying, and saw that there were many people in the street. It looked as if the whole parish had come to show their sympathy. In that country, when people cry, they cry with their lips as well as with their eyes, and when anybody is dead, they hire mourners who can cry very loud indeed to come and help them make their lamentation. And there they were, weeping and screaming, making a dreadful noise. The first thing which our Lord did was to turn all of these people out of the minister's house. Give place, he said, for the maid is not dead, she is asleep. Then he went in, taking with him only Peter and James and John, and the father and mother of the child. So they stood at last in the silent room, where the little girl, all still and white, lay upon the bed, and our Lord took her by the hand. Talithi kumi, he said, for that was the language which they spoke then. Meaning, get up, little daughter. And the child opened her eyes and rose up, and our Lord led her to her mother, saying, she is hungry. Give her something to eat. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of When the King came. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. When the King came, stories from the four Gospels by George Hodges, Chapter 22, The Sermon on the Mount. So people came from all directions to see the King and to hear his words. Some came because they hoped that he would do a work of wonder, and these were moved, either by curiosity, that they might stand by with eyes wide open while some sick person was made well, or by their own distress, being themselves sick or in trouble. Some came because they were poor and hungry or disliked by their neighbors, and so the world seemed to them a bad world, and they wanted to know what Jesus would do to make it better. Very few of the great people came, the rulers or the rich, and very few of the ministers. The congregation which gathered about our Lord looked quite unlike the congregation which met in the synagogue on the Sabbath day. The King of Glory came into his own, and his own received him not. That is, the people who read their Bibles and said their prayers, and went to church, and were thought to be very good, disliked him greatly. Both the priests and the ministers, or as we would say today, both the Catholics and the Protestants criticized him, and objected to what he said and did, and hated him. He did not often preach long sermons. Indeed, for the most part, he did not preach at all, but just talked in his natural voice. He liked best to speak to a few people in a quiet, friendly way, walking in the country or sitting under a tree or in a boat. But twice he spoke at length to a considerable company, so that we have a report of what he said. Once he was on a mountain, where he preached the sermon of the beatitudes. The other time he was on the lake, where he preached the sermon of the parables. That is, in the first sermon he was telling people how to be happy, for that is what beatitude means. And in the second sermon he taught the people by means of stories, for a parable is a story. Nobody knows where our Lord preached the sermon on the mount. But it does not greatly matter, for all the hills about the lake of Galilee look much alike, and are all very different from Mount Sinai. You remember the sermon on the mount which Moses preached, how he stood on Sinai, a great, bleak, rocky height in the midst of a desert, and how he brought down the ten commandments, cut on slabs of stone, and how there was an awful storm, the lightning flashing and the thunder booming. But the eight beatitudes were spoken on a gentle hill, green to the top with trees and shrubs and grass, and overlooking the pleasant lake. We may safely guess that the sun was bright, and that the birds were singing in the air, and flowers were shining on the ground. Indeed, our Lord in his sermon spoke of the birds and the flowers, how the Father in heaven cares for them every day. There on the grass sat the congregation at our Lord's feet, the poor, the sad, the sinful, and the outcast, and he spoke sitting at the foot of a green tree. So he began with the eight beatitudes, the eight ways to be happy. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. That is, the true source of happiness is in our own hearts, not in the houses in which we live, nor in the clothes which we wear, not in the money which we have, but in ourselves. If we try always to do right, so that God shall approve of us, then we shall be happy, no matter what things happen to us. There may be a great difference between happiness and wealth, but happiness and goodness always dwell together, and he showed how the ten commandments are to be kept with our hearts, as well as with our hands, so that the commandment, thou shalt do no murder, really forbids us even to think hatefully about our neighbor. Then he taught the Lord's Prayer, which we say in English words, which are nearly a hundred years older than the English Bibles which we commonly read. When the Bible was translated in the time of King James, everybody knew the Lord's Prayer by heart in the old form, and most people kept on saying it that way. Here our Lord showed us that if we wish to do the things that are right, and thus to be happy, we must every day ask God to help and bless us. For prayer is as necessary to the life of the soul as food is to the life of the body. Then he gave the golden rule, whatsoever you would, that men should do to you, do ye even so to them. Afterwards he put this in another and still stronger way in the new commandment. A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another, as I have loved you, and that ye also love one another. And he said that we ought even to love those who hate us, trying to do them good in return for the evil that they do to us. Everybody, he said, loves his friends, but my true disciples will love their enemies. At the end of the sermon he compared the congregation to the two houses. Once, he said, there was a wise man who built his house upon a rock. Down he dug into the earth until he found the solid rock, and there he set the corners of his house, and then a storm came. The rain descended and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon the house, and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock. That, he said, was like the people who hurt his teaching, and listened to it with attention, and then did what he said. And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand, and the rain descended and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. CHAPTER XXIII The Sermon of the Seven Stories This sermon was preached not on a mountain, but on the lake, where our Lord sat in a boat, and the people stood on the bank. The sermon was all in stories, seven of them, one after another, though some of them were very short. These stories are called parables, which means that they were told, not for the sake of telling a story, but in order to teach the truth. For sometimes there is more valuable truth in a story than there is in a long chapter full of facts. All these stories were about the kingdom of heaven. The people were looking and praying for the coming of the kingdom of heaven, but they were thinking more about the kingdom than they were about heaven. They were expecting a king with a crown upon his head, and a scepter in his hand, and a royal robe over his shoulders, sitting on a throne. What they wanted was that such a king should conquer their enemies, and make them again a free and rich nation. They wanted wealth and power, so when the king came with no palace and no throne, going about quietly like other men and dressed like a carpenter, they did not know him. In these stories the king tried to show his people what was the true idea of the kingdom. The kingdom, he said, is not like the kingdoms of this world, it is not on the map, but in the heart. Its power is the truth, and they belong to it who are trying to live here on earth as well as they can, the life of heaven, the life of goodness and usefulness, and love of man and God. So he said that the kingdom of heaven is like a beautiful pearl for the sake of which a man sold all that he had and bought it. That is, the most important of all the things is the life which is lived in obedience to God. And he said that the kingdom of heaven is like leaven, or as we say, yeast, which is put into dough so that it makes bread, meaning that the citizens of the kingdom would little by little change the world in which they live, and make it as different from the present world as bread is different from dough. And he said that the kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed, a very little seed, which grows up into a big tree so that the birds built their nest in it, and that meant that the kingdom was indeed beginning very small, only a little company of disciples, but it should grow and grow and grow till it should include the whole world. These were some of the short stories. The longest of all was the story of the sower. Once upon a time our Lord said, a man went out to sow his field. The man had a large bag of grain by his side, and as he walked he kept putting his hand into the bag, and taking out the grain and scattering it over the ground. In the middle of the field there was a path, a hard path, trodden day after day by the feet of men and horses. Somebody was walking over it, or driving over it all the time. Some of the seed fell on this beaten path. There was a place on one side where the field lay at the foot of a hill, and the hill was made of rock, and over the rock the soil was very thin, only a few inches of earth, and then the rock beneath. In a corner of the field there had been a great many briars and thistles the year before, and they were just getting ready to start up again and make a bramble patch. The rest of the field was plowed land, ready for seed. So the man with the bag went back and forth across the field, scattering the grain. And some fell on the hard path, and some on the thin ground, and some among the brambles, and some on the good plowed land. And pretty soon a man came walking along, wearing heavy boots, and as he went along the path he stepped on some of the seeds which lay there and broke them into little pieces. So they never grew. And by and by a bird came along that way, and caught sight of the grain, and he was glad, for there was nothing that he liked better than grain. But as he was a generous little bird, he took only a nibble or two, and then flew away to tell all the other little birds in that neighborhood that there was a fine dinner ready for them on the path, and wouldn't they like to come and eat it. So a whole flock of little birds came flying as fast as their wings could carry them, and lighted down among the grains of wheat, and in a very short time nothing was left there but the path, and so nothing ever grew out of that grain. But the seeds in the shallow soil began to grow at once. When the sun came out, there was so little earth that it was warmed through very quickly, and as there is nothing which seeds like better than to be comfortably warm, the grain grew beautifully. Little leaves poked up their little green heads through the ground, and there they breathed the air and drank the rain, and every morning they were taller than they were the night before. But while the seeds liked to be warm, they object very much to being scorched. Unhappily, after these seeds got their good start, and the stalks of wheat were beginning to say to themselves that they were much taller than any other wheat in the field, for the other wheat did not grow nearly so fast. There came a very hot day. The sun blazed and blazed until the tall wheat fell as if it were living next door to a big bonfire. The little roots tried to get away from the hot sun, down in the cool earth, but there was the hard rock. They could not find a cool place anywhere. So the wheat began to wither. It began to feel like a man who has a sunstroke. At last it fell down flat upon the ground, and it never got up again. So that seed did not amount to anything. Meanwhile in the bramble patch the wheat was growing, but the thorns and thistles were growing also. Now all seeds need to have enough to eat, but thorns and thistles are like greedy children who try to get all the food there is upon the table. The corner of the field was the table, and the dirt was the food, and the thistles crowded out the wheat. And as there was not quite enough to go around, the wheat grew more and more hungry, and thinner and thinner, day by day, till it was starved, and nobody ever got any grain from that seed. But in the plowed land, where the man came with a sharp hoe and cut away the weeds, the wheat grew and became taller and taller, until at last it was above the heads of the farmers, boys, and girls, and the ears of wheat appeared. And finally, when the man who had planted the seed came to reap the harvest, he found that these seeds had grown into good wheat a hundred times as much as he had on his own. That was the end of the story, but after the sermon was over, some of our Lord's disciples came to him and said, What did you mean by the story of the sower? For they knew that he did not tell the story just for the pleasure of it, and so he told them. He said that the seed is like the word of God, that is, like the message which comes to us from God in a sermon, or in a book, or in a talk with a friend, and some who hear have hearts like the beaten path. Thoughts about other things are trampling up and down in them, like the man with the heavy boots, or such thoughts are flying about and whispering to them, like the little twittering birds, so that the word of God does not make any impression upon them. They do not pay any attention to God. Others who hear are like the shallow places. They are at first greatly interested, full of joy and enthusiasm, and determined to do great things. But they go home, and the little daily duties and worries come. Somebody teases them, somebody tempts them, somebody asks them to do what they do not like to do, and all the good resolutions wither away, like the grain in the hot sun. Others who hear are like the bramble patch. They begin well, and hold out bravely for a time, and really wish to mind the word of God. But bad things that used to grow in their hearts commence to grow again, like thistles in the field, briars of falsehood, briars of laziness, brambles of selfishness, and the good is crowded out. The easiest garden to take care of is a weed garden. It needs no care at all, but it is good for nothing. Some people, our Lord said, have weed gardens in their heart. But the true citizens of the kingdom try every day to do the king's will, to keep down all that is wrong in them, and to make what is right grow strong. They are like the good ground. In them God is well pleased. CHAPTER XXIV The Herald's Head While the king did these works of wonder and spoke these words of wisdom, the king's herald lay in prison. You remember how sternly John the Baptist spoke to men who were living in sin, and how it made no difference to him whether the sinner was rich or poor. To the gentlemen who were proud of their good birth he said that God, if he chose, could change the stones of the river bank into descendants of Abraham, and that by their actions one would guess that their real father was that old serpent the devil. Now Herod the Great, when he came to die, had divided his kingdom among his sons, and one of them, named Herod Antipas, thus became ruler in Galilee and beyond the Jordan. Of course the Romans were the real rulers, but they appointed him as one of their governors. Herod Antipas was married to the princess of a little kingdom in Arabia, but about this time he went on a visit to Rome to see his half-brother, Herod Philip, and while he was there he fell in love with Herod Philip's wife, whose name was Herodius. Then Herodius left her husband for Antipas, and Antipas's wife fled home in great distress and anger to her father. All the country knew about these scandalous and wicked doings, but Herodius and her daughter Salome came and lived in Herod Antipas's splendid palace at Tiberius on the Sea of Galilee, and nobody said anything, except in whispers, for it is not easy to reprove kings and queens. But John the Baptist did not speak in a whisper. He spoke up in a great loud voice, and said in his sermons to the people, and at last to the king himself, that it was all terribly bad, and that it was against all laws of man and of God, that he should have his brother's wife. And that is how he went to prison. Herod had a great black stone fortress beyond the Jordan, the fortress of Makurus, and there he put John into a dungeon. Herodius would have put him to death, but she was afraid of the people, for the people reverenced John. Even Herod respected the brave man, who was not afraid to speak the truth to the king's face. So John lay in prison, though his disciples were allowed to come and visit him. It seemed very hard to the Baptist, after all his free life in the wilderness, to be shut up behind stone walls. He had not had even a roof over his head since he was a child, and one day, strong man as he was, he became very discouraged, and sent some of his disciples to Jesus and said, Are you truly the king? Are you he that should come, or must we look for another? For John the Baptist, like the other people, was expecting a king like Herod, a better and mightier Herod. And when Jesus kept on living so quietly and going about with a group of fishermen and saying that his kingdom was not of this world, John knew not what to think. So John's disciples came with their master's question, and our Lord said, Stay with me this day. So they stayed with him that day, and he did just what he was always doing. The blind received their sight, and the lame walked, and the lepers were cleansed, and the deaf heard. The dead were raised up, and the poor had the gospel preached to them. Now he said, Go back to John, and show him what you have heard and seen. So they went back, but what John said we do not know. Then Herod had a birthday, and he made a supper to his lords, high captains, and the chief people of Galilee. The tables were spread in a splendid room, with walls made with beautiful pictures, with dishes of silver and gold, music playing while the feast went on, and many servants bringing all sorts of pleasant things to eat. At last, when they had all had a great deal more to drink than was good for them, the king sent for Salome, the young daughter of Herodias, and she came in and danced, so that the king was delighted. And Herod, hardly knowing what he was saying, spoke up before all his nobles, and said to the little daughter, Ask of me whatsoever you will, and I will give it to you. And as she stopped to think, and all the guests were looking at him and at her. Yes, he cried, whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give it to thee, unto the half of my kingdom. There was the promise then, and the child could have her wish. What should it be? Among all the beautiful things in the world, what shall the princess choose? One day King Solomon had a chance to ask for what he wanted most, and he asked for wisdom. But the king cannot give wisdom. Indeed, this king had no wisdom to spare. Well, lovely gowns then, or jewels, or gardens, or money to buy them all. It was a hard matter to decide, and the girl went to ask her mother, a very good thing to do, if she had had a good mother. But now Herodias saw her opportunity. All this time she had been longing to have her revenge for what John the Baptist had said about her. They were hard words, and the worst of it was, she deserved them all. But so much the more she hated him. Already, as we have seen, she had tried to have him killed. Now was the time. So Salome went out and said to her mother, what shall I ask? And Herodias said, the head of John the Baptist. And Salome came running back in great haste into the dining-room, and cried out in a high voice so that everybody heard what she said. I will that thou give me, by and by, in a charger, that is a great platter, the head of John the Baptist. Then what did the king do? If he had been a good king, he would have told his daughter what a wicked thing that was to ask. But he did not do that. He was exceedingly sorry. But he had promised to give her anything she wished, and she had wished for John the Baptist's head. And he did not consider that we ought never to keep bad promises. The only thing to do if we make a wicked promise is to break it. He was afraid that his nobles would laugh at him if he did not do what he said he would. For their sakes which sat with him he would not reject her. So he sent an executioner, and commanded his head to be brought. And the executioner went and beheaded the herald of the king of glory in the prison. So he died, whose birth the angel had promised at the altar, whose name had been given him amidst the rejoicings of his father and mother and their friends, who had lived for years in the wild woods, and then had come forth to welcome the king of kings. And his head was brought in by the executioner on a great silver platter, and the executioner gave it to the girl, and the girl gave it to her mother. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 of When the King came. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. When the King came, stories from the Four Gospels by George Hodges. Chapter 25 12 Baskets of Pieces At the time of the beheading of John the Baptist, the apostles were on a journey about the country, two by two. Our Lord had sent them to teach as they had heard him teach, and to cast out devils and heal the sick. So they had been walking pleasantly between the green fields, two by this road, and two by that, each man with a staff in his hand, speaking in the marketplaces, going home to dinner and to spend the night, if any good citizen invited them. Or if there were no such invitation, sleeping on the hay in the meadow, and quenching their thirst in the cool streams. Now they came home to tell our Lord how God had blessed them beyond all their expectations, but they brought the bad news with them of the death of the herald. Our Lord saw, too, that they were very tired, for there had been so many people coming and going about them that they had no leisure, so much as to eat. So he said, Come, now apart into a desert place, and rest awhile. For he knew that tired people cannot be much used to their neighbors. They got into a boat, therefore, and rode out into the lake. They were both tired and sad. In the death of the Baptist they saw not only the loss of a friend, but the murder of a prophet. John had met the fate of many prophets. Would it be their own fate also? So they rode in silence across the narrow lake, and landed where there were no houses. There was much grass in the place, and back from the water there were low- wooded hills. There they sat down to rest. But the people had seen them departing, and they said one to another. There is the prophet. He is going with his disciples across the lake. Let us go, too. And they made haste on foot, running along the road about the head of the lake, and as they went the crowd increased, for when they hurried through the street of any village, everybody came to the doors and windows crying. Where are you going? What is the matter? And they said, We are going to find the prophet of Nazareth. And the men and women, and even the children, cried, We will go with you. So there was a great multitude. There were even sick persons among them. As the crowd ran by the house, Father Josiah would say to Mother Miriam, The prophet is yonder in the fields. Shall we not carry our little Deborah, and ask him to make her well? And away they would go, carrying Deborah on the blanket between them. By and by, therefore, a distant sound was heard in the beautiful stillness where the master and the apostles rested in their weariness and sadness. And one said, It is like the sound of many voices. Another said, I hear the tramping of many feet. And a third stood up to look, and said, A great, great crowd is coming. Did our Lord say, But we are tired and sad. Let us go back upon the hills and hide us from their sight among the trees? No. The moment he saw the people, his heart was filled with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things, and to heal those who were sick among them. But when the evening came, his disciples came to him and said, This is a desert place, and now the time is far past. Send them away that they may go into the country round about, and into the villages, and by themselves food, for they have nothing to eat. They had come out in such great haste and eagerness that they had brought nothing with them. Our Lord said to Philip, When shall we buy bread that these may eat? Philip answered, It would take two hundred dollars to buy enough to give each one a single piece of bread. Our Lord said, How much have we? Go and see. And Andrew came back and said, There is a lad here with five barley loaves and two small fishes. But what are they among so many? Even now when there is a great work to be done for man and God, one disciple says, It is impossible. While another says, Here is something to begin with. And our Lord still does as he did then. He takes the small beginning and makes it great. And Jesus said, Make the men sit down. So the men sat down by companies of hundreds and fifties on the green grass in number about five thousand. And he took the five loaves and the two fishes and looked up to heaven and blessed and break the loaves and gave them to the disciples to set before them. And the two fishes divided he among them all. So they went forth the twelve disciples, each with a fragment of bread and a bit of fish which our Lord had blessed, and each gave to one man and then to another man and then still to another. And, behold, there was still enough to give and so it went till they had all eaten, all the five thousand, and women and children beside. And after they were finished he told the apostles to gather up the fragments that remained that nothing should be lost. Therefore they gathered them together and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves which remained over and above unto them that had eaten. Every apostle filled his lunch-basket full. Then these men, when they had seen the miracle which Jesus did, said, This is of a truth that profit which should come into the world, meaning the Messiah. And some said, Come, he is the Messiah, let us make him our king. And all rose up, all the five thousand, with great shouts, waving their arms, calling him their king. And when he started to go away to escape them, telling them that he could never be the kind of king they meant, they tried to compel him, even by force. And still he refused and resisted, freeing himself from their hands, sending his disciples away to their boats, and himself going in the gathering dusk into a mountain alone. That was the turning point of our Lord's ministry. Up to that time his disciples had been many. Crowds greeted him and followed him wherever he went. There were those indeed who greatly disliked him, and sometimes already they had even threatened that they would kill him. But the common people hurt him gladly. Now, however, there was a reaction. He told them plainly that he would never be a king such as they wished, and they would not have him as the king of truth. The next day he spoke in a synagogue in Capernaum, and said things that were so hard to understand that from that time many of the disciples went back and walked no more with him. He was not quite sure even of the twelve, and said, Will ye also go away? But Peter answered for them all, saying, Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. Then the next day came the scribes from Jerusalem, and met our Lord as he walked in the street, and reproved him in the presence of the people, saying that he dishonored God because he did not keep the customs. They said that all men who became our Lord's disciples cease to be good churchmen. But our Lord reproved them, saying that God was dishonored by their customs. He said that their religion was in their lips and not in their hearts. God, he said, did not care for their petty rules. He is to be served by honesty and mercy and truth and a good life, and he called them blind leaders of the blind. After that, in Galilee as well as in Judea, our Lord was hated by more and more people, some of whom sought his life. He had to go away, out of his own land, into the heathen countries round about. STORIES FROM THE FOUR GOSPELS by George Hodges CHAPTER XXVI. WHY THE KING WAS HATED It seems to us very strange and sad that the king was rejected by the citizens of his own kingdom. But so it was. Among the enemies of our Lord there was not one who had ever been in jail. On the contrary, those who were the most bitter against him were generally thought to be uncommonly good people. Twice every week they fasted. Out of every hundred dollars which they earned, they gave ten to the church. Some of them were ministers. Some, as we would say, were wardens and vestrymen. They were all church members. It is true that our Lord said that they were hypocrites, which means that they were not so good as they seem to be, and that their religion was in their lips rather than in their hearts. But even their badness was the badness of good people. One reason why they hated our Lord was that they were very formal and precise persons, while he was always perfectly natural, direct, and simple. Many of the things which he said and did shocked them greatly. For example, the name by which they thought of God was Jehovah. But they felt that that name was so sacred that they ought never to speak it nor write it. On the other hand, our Lord, who was in God and God in him, and to whom praying was as natural as breathing, spoke of God as one whom he knew very well, calling him Father, even using the name Abba, by which the little Hebrew boys and girls addressed their Fathers. So they said that our Lord was a blasphemer. That is, one who speaks disrespectfully of God. Another reason why they hated our Lord was that he paid so little attention to some of their customs. They had a great many ways of doing things, which to us seemed strange and even foolish, but which they considered so important that they felt that anybody who did differently was bad. Some of these customs were connected with the keeping of the Sabbath, some with the washing of hands, some with the treatment of outsiders. Thus they had a good law that men should not work in the fields on the Sabbath. Nobody should cut grain or thresh it. The purpose was to give all laboring folk a day off every week for rest. But they were so afraid that the law might be broken, that they said that if anyone even picked a single head of wheat and rubbed it in his hands to get a kernel from the husk, he was cutting grain and threshing it. One day our Lord and his disciples went across a field of wheat, and the disciples began, as they went, to pluck the spears of grain. And the scribe said, Behold, thy disciples do that which is not lawful to do upon the Sabbath day. But our Lord paid no heed to their complaint. They had another law that all persons should wash their hands before they sat down to dinner. An excellent habit, if one's hands need washing. But their idea was that a great many things in the world are unclean, or as we might say, unlucky. If anybody touched these things, God did not like him till he had washed off the unlucky touch. But our Lord knew better. The things he said, which God does not like, are bad works and bad actions. And he told his disciples that they did not need to wash their hands in order to keep the favor of God. They were also very careful about associating with outsiders, who did not belong to the church. Some of these were Gentiles, that is, heathen people. Some were Samaritans, who were part Jews and part heathen. Some were publicans, who were in the employ of the heathen. Some were plain sinners. The Jews would not eat with such persons, nor would they willingly have any dealings with them. They despised and hated them. But our Lord felt that people who were living in ignorance and sin should be helped to be better, and he knew that in order to help anybody one must first make friends with him. Sometimes he said that he was like a shepherd who goes in search of a sheep which is lost. Sometimes he said that he was like a physician whose business is to care for those who are sick. He was going through Samaria one time, and being thirsty and tired, he sat down on a stone by a well, and a Samaritan woman came to draw water. She was a Samaritan, and besides that a person of bad character. But our Lord spoke to her kindly. Sometimes when the scribes wished to call him by a bad name, they said that he was a Samaritan himself, and that he was a friend of publicans and sinners. They felt towards publicans and Samaritans as people in some southern towns feel towards negroes. It was for these reasons, reasons that when the king came unto his own, his own received him not. They were interested in little things. He was interested in great things. They were busy with seeds and herbs, mint, anise, and cumin, tying them up in ten bundles to give one bundle to the church. He was intent on justice, mercy, and truth. They were thinking about their customs. He was thinking about God and man, and they hated him. They saw that he was a prophet, and that the people crowded about him. They could not help seeing that he was preaching truth and goodness, but he was unlike them, and they hated him. It has happened many times since then. That was all that they had against him, that his custom of keeping the Sabbath and of washing his hands and of dealing with outsiders was different from theirs. But that was enough. They went to church and said their prayers and read their Bibles, and fasted twice in the week, and hated the King of Glory. The result was that it was no longer safe for him to live in his own country. He had never spent much time in Judea, except to go to Jerusalem for the great church festivals. Galilee had been the place of his ministry, and especially that portion of it, which lies about the northern part of the lake. But after the scribes came up from Jerusalem and attacked him in Capernaum, he could not stay in Galilee. The great people turned against him, and the common people, disappointed because he would not be their king, followed their example. He was no longer surrounded by enthusiastic crowds. Men and women looked at him with eyes of suspicion and dislike. They spoke one to another as he passed by, saying, There goes the prophet of Nazareth. Have you heard how the scribes from Jerusalem reproved him and disowned him? He is a Sabbath-breaker, and a despiser of our holy customs, and associates with low people. There is Matthew the publican speaking to him this moment. And there were threats against his life. So he took his twelve friends, and they went away together. He never stood again on the hills of Nazareth. He never spoke again to the people on the shore of the lake, nor sat in a fisherman's boat. He walked no more between the pleasant fields. As they went, they looked back for a last sight of the place where they had lived. They saw the white houses of Corazin and Bethsaida, and Capernaum shining against the blue line of the water. And our Lord took his leave, with great grief. Woe unto thee, Corazin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida! For if the mighty works had been done in Tyre and Sidon, which have been done in you, they had a great while ago repented, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. And thou, Capernaum, high and lifted up, thou shalt be brought low. Then he turned about, and set his face towards Tyre and Sidon, cities of the heathen. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Of When the King Came This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. When the King came, stories from the Four Gospels by George Hodges, Chapter 27 In the Land of Tyre and Sidon So our Lord and his twelve friends went away, leaving the lake of Galilee and the fishing-nets behind them. And by and by, when the road climbed the high hills, there was a silver line along the far horizon which meant the Salt Sea, the Mediterranean, beyond Lake Greece and then Italy and then Spain, and north of Spain, France and England, and west, across the unknown ocean, America. He looked out into the wide world. He was a fugitive, driven from his native land. But heaven was his true native land, and he was Lord of life. There were great thoughts in his heart, of which the twelve friends knew nothing. He had now ended that part of his ministry, in which he had gone about among his own people, speaking words of wisdom and doing works of wonder. He was still to teach and still to bless, but the greater part of his time was to be given to the twelve. One purpose of this journey into a foreign country was that he might be with them more intimately. He was to prepare them to carry on his work after his death, for he saw now that he must expect death. Presently they came to a little town near the Great Seaport of Tyre, where the signs over the shop-doors were in Greek, and the people said, good morning, in Greek when they met in the street. There he found a lodging, and went in and shut the door. He felt that he was in a place where nobody knew him, and was glad. After what had happened he wished to be alone, but he could not be hid. It may be that some dim rumor of him had traveled even over those long roads, for there were people coming and going. As long ago as King Solomon's time men had gone from Tyre to Jerusalem on business, as brass-workers and woodcarvers, as artists and architects, some such person, working in the temple, or in Herod's palace at Tiberias, may have brought the word. Somebody may have seen him in Judea or in Galilee, and now seeing him again recognized him. Or perhaps they knew him without having seen him. As he passed by they observed him. They did not need to be very keen of sight to perceive that he was different from other men. One day Paul and Barnabas, journeying through Asia Minor, came into a place, and the people running together cried. The gods are come down from us in the likeness of men. They guessed that by the way Paul and Barnabas looked. They said at once that Barnabas, who was a tall, fine-looking man, must be Jupiter, and that Paul, who talked a great deal, must be Mercury. And here, in the land of Tyre and Sidon, was God indeed, the Almighty and Eternal God, come down in the likeness of a man. He could not be hid. Men pointed after him as he walked along the street, and women looked out at him from the windows of the houses, saying, Who is this? Thus it was that news of his arrival reached a woman who was sitting by the bedside of her sick daughter. She was a heathen woman. They were all heathen in the neighborhood of Tyre and Sidon. She was one of those outsiders whom the scribes so much disliked. Her little daughter had been brought up a heathen. She had never heard of the wanderings of Abraham, but she knew all about the wanderings of Ulysses. She had never been told of the adventures of Sampson, but her mother had told her many, many times the brave stories of the adventures of Hercules. She was quite ignorant of Aaron and the golden calf, but she could have told you of Jason and the golden fleece. She was a little heathen maiden, and said her prayers to the little statue of a Greek god, for that was the best she knew. And now she was very sick and had been in that sad state a long time. Something was the matter with her head, so that she said disconnected, foolish things when she talked. As her mother said, she was grievously fexed with the devil. That is all that her mother knew about it, and we ourselves, as I have said before, know little more. The news came then that some great one was come to town, out of the land of Israel. Some said, and others added, either guessing or having questioned the apostles, that he was a son of David, a king and priest in one, like the wise men of the east, a god in the likeness of a man. Nobody quite knew who he was, but he was good and great. Anybody could see that. So the next neighbor on one side came in and said, Why don't you go to the son of David and tell him of the sickness of your daughter? Why don't you get him to lay his hands on her and make her well? And the next neighbor on the other side said, You go and speak to him, and I will stay with the little girl while you are gone. So the mother went. She met our Lord and the twelve walking in the street, and immediately she cried to him, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David, my daughter is grievously vexed with the devil. For that is how mothers feel about their children. Have mercy on me, she said. Not, have mercy on my daughter. The daughter's pain was the mother's pain. O Lord, thou son of David, hear me and help me. But our Lord said not a word. Here was a marvelous thing. He who had never before turned a deaf ear to any call of distress said not a word. On he went in silence, the twelve about him, and the mother following. I told you that when people cry in the east they cry with their lips as well as with their eyes, and so she did. She cried so that women hurt her in their kitchens, where they were busy about the stove, and came running to the door to see what was the matter. Men came hurrying around the corners of the street. There was a crowd. Jesus went on, and she came after crying, and the crowd followed. At last the apostles said, Master send her away, for she cries after us. We came here to be hid, and she is raising the whole town about our hills. The apostles were annoyed and impatient. I wish that one of them had said, Master, is there not something which we can do for her? But they showed no pity. There was a time in the middle ages when people had an idea that it was a good plan to pray to the saints. The saints, they thought, would be more likely to hear them than God. This story does not bear out that belief. Of course Peter and Andrew and James and John and the others were better men afterwards than they were that day in the Tyrian village. But I should think that when this remark of theirs was read in church it might have discouraged some of those who were praying to them. Might not Peter still be inclined to say, send her away, for she cried after us. One time our Lord and the twelve were going to Jerusalem, and they came at nightfall to a village in Samaria, and nobody would take them in, and James and John proposed that they should call down thunder and lightning and destroy them all. None of the saints, even the best of them, has ever been so loving as he. But this time our Lord answered his apostles, and it seemed for the moment that he would do as they suggested. I am not sent, he said, but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. That is, the lost sheep for whom I am seeking are not of this heathen fold. I am concerned about the Jewish sheep. And so he was. He had indeed been criticized for his brotherly dealings with outsiders, but up to this time he had really had little to do with them. When he sent his apostles out to preach and heal he had told them to go only to the Jews, because all good work must begin with the doing of one thing well. Nobody succeeds who is content to help a great many people a little. The true way is to help a few people a great deal. Then these few will be helpers in their turn. Thus more slowly but more surely will the great work be done. Accordingly our Lord had addressed himself to the Jews, his own people. He had sought the lost sheep of the house of Israel. That, as he said, had been his mission. That had been his wise plan. Thus he spoke and the woman heard. Did that send her away? Not for a moment. It may be that the tone of voice explained the words so that she knew that he was but thinking aloud, considering what he would do better. Thus have I done through all my ministry. Shall I now change? Anyhow the woman made her way through the reluctant company of the apostles, past Saint Peter and Saint John and Saint Simon the Zealot and Saint Matthew the Publican, and fell down on her knees at our Lord's feet, so that he stood still, looking at her. Lord, help me! she cried, and there was hope and faith in her voice. The saints were no friends of hers, but he would be her friend. Lord, help me! but he answered half musing and half smiling. It is not me to take the children's bread and cast it to dogs. As if he said, Don't you know that I am a Jew, and that Jews believe that they belong to the household of the Heavenly Father, while you Gentiles are but dogs? Did he think, as he spoke, of the contrast between the cold unbelief of the scribes, with their great pretensions, and the warm faith of this heathen woman whom they despised? Did he take these hard words upon his lips, showing by his tone of voice that he did but quote the common saying of his narrow countrymen, and that he had no sympathy with it? It is plain, at least, that the woman understood him. She looked into his face, and saw only kindness there. Shall the dogs, he said, ask for the children's bread? Yes, Lord, she cried, not the bread, but the crumbs, even the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table. The Lord replied, O woman, great is thy faith, be it unto thee according as thou wilt. So the woman went home with a glad heart, and before she got to the house there were the neighbors running out to meet her, and the little girl herself stood at the gate. CHAPTER XXVIII. Then our Lord spent a long time in the country which lies to the north and to the east of the land of the Jews. Several times he appeared unexpectedly in Jerusalem, on the great church days, and there spoke in public places where large companies heard him, but he never spent the night in town. He had a friend named Lazarus, who with two sisters, Mary and Martha, lived in Bethany, a little place near Jerusalem. It is likely that he was their guest. It was not safe for him to stay in the city, for the Jews sought to kill him. On these occasions the people were much perplexed about him, not knowing what to think. We can even hear them talking among themselves, quite as the Romans talk in Shakespeare's play when Julius Caesar rides in procession. As the master speaks, first citizen says to his neighbor, Ava truth, this is the prophet. Second citizen answers, with emphasis, striking one hand upon the other. This is the Christ. But third citizen rebukes them crying. He hath a devil and is mad. Why hear ye him? To which first citizen and second citizen indeed reply, these are not the words of him that hath a devil, but they do not speak with much assurance, and by and by at the urging of the authorities all these citizens begin to look about in the road for stones to throw at him. There were two parties in the state and in the church. Those who belonged to one party were called the Sadducees. Those who belonged to the other were called Pharisees. The priests of the temple and most of the officers of government were Sadducees. The ministers of the synagogues were Pharisees. The Sadducees carried on elaborate services. The Pharisees cared more for sermons. The Sadducees were a small party, confined almost entirely to Jerusalem. The Pharisees included in their party most of the good, earnest, religious people of the nation. It was the Pharisees who hated our Lord, because he disregarded their customs. The Sadducees hated him because they were afraid that he would stir up a revolution. The Romans will come, they said, and take away our place and nation. One day the two parties united in sending the police to arrest our Lord, intending to shut him up in jail. But the officers came back empty-handed. Why have you not brought him? cried the Sadducees and Pharisees. The officers answered, Never man's fake like this man. They had stood in the crowd listening to him. From these visits, as I said, our Lord returned to the lands where there were no Jews or very few. One day he was in the city of Bethsaida. This was not the fishing town where some of the twelve had lived, but a place at the head of the lake, mostly inhabited by Romans. There the signs in the shop windows were in Latin, and even the smallest boys and girls spoke Latin as they played together in the street. Our Lord was walking along, and there came to him a little group of men, leading a blind man. Now the fact that one cannot see does not imply that he cannot speak. Indeed, this man did finally speak, but not at first. At first he said never a word, letting his friends do all the talking. Probably the man came to Jesus because he was persuaded by his friends. He had no desire to come. He had been to all the doctors, and not one had given him a ray of light. He had no faith in doctors. But this is not a doctor, said his friends. This is a man of God. When he speaks, even in Bethsaida, God hears in heaven and answers. So they persuaded him. Very well, he said, I will go to please you, but I don't believe in it. It is a folly and delusion, and I will not ask him to heal me. You may, if you choose, but not I. Thus he came into our Lord's presence, actually blind and practically dumb. Our Lord took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the town. He took him away alone, apart from all his friends. This he did partly that he might have a chance to talk to the man quietly and intimately, and partly that the blind man might have a chance to talk to him. For after the man had declared to his friends that he would not say a word, not a word was he likely to say so long as his friends were by to hear. Along they went then, the master and the man, down one street and up another, passed the house out into the green country. With every step, as our Lord held the man's hand and talked in his gentle and wonderful way, the man's mind began to change. He began to think that one who could speak in that way could do whatsoever he would. Indeed, the walk was a necessary part of the cure, for if the man continued in his indifference and unbelief, our Lord himself could not help him. Thus, one time in a certain place, our Lord could do no mighty work because of the unbelief of the people. The faith of the man himself was an essential part of the miracle, and on the way the man's faith grew. At last they were quite out of the town, and our Lord stopped. He touched his fingers to his lips and placed them on the blind man's eyes. Now, he said, as he took away his hand, do you see anything? The man looked up, and there was a strange new light before him, as if after a black night the sun were dimly rising far away. Yes, the man cried, I can see, I can see. Why, I see men walking about like trees. What did he mean? He said that he could see trees and men coming hand in hand along the country road, looking like brothers. That, I suppose, is the way in which even now we see with our minds. We see God and great truths about him and ourselves in a dim, confused way, like the man who saw the procession of the trees. He was like one who walks in a fog. Sometimes in a fog it is hard to tell, at a little distance, which are trees and which are men. So we look about, ignorantly, in this wonderful world. But after that, Jesus put his hands upon his eyes and made him look up, and he was restored and saw every man clearly. That clear sight, we hope, will come sometime to us, and we shall understand the meaning of the words and works of God. Then our Lord sent the man away to his home, saying, Do not go into the town, nor tell it to any in the town. For he did not wish to draw a crowd about him, nor about the man.