 CHAPTER 29 A ROCK FOR A CORNERSTONE In those days our Lord and the Twelve were continually going about from place to place, mostly among heathen people. Wherever they went they walked, and as they walked they talked. Many people passed them on the road without looking at them twice. Men with garden stuff to sell at the next market pushed on, leaving the Twelve and the Master in a cloud of dust. And when their wives said, What did you see when you went to town today? They shook their heads, saying that they had seen no sights. They had passed St. Peter and St. John and St. Andrew and St. James and eight other apostles, and the Lord in the midst of them. If a single market man had but stopped and asked two simple questions, no matter what, and then when he reached home and had written down the answers and kept them for us, he would have been one of the benefactors of the race, and famous to the end of time. Suppose he had said, What is it of which you men are talking as you walk and are glad? But they all went on about their dull business and asked nothing. One day, as the Twelve were speaking of their experiences in their own country before they were driven out, our Lord said, What do they say of me? What did you hear as you went about? Whom do men say that I am? The Twelve answered, Most men say that you are John the Baptist come to life again, though some think that you are Elijah, while others have a vague idea that you are one of the old prophets, they know not which. The people do not seem to have thought of him as meek and lowly. Both John the Baptist and Elijah were strong, masterful persons, who came with a great message from God, and defied kings. The prophet, as I said, was commonly a revolutionist, dangerous to all bad men. Such was the impression which Jesus made upon such of his countrymen, as were but slightly acquainted with him. They saw that he was a kind and tender friend to all who were in trouble, and that he seemed to belong to heaven rather than to earth. Like a saint come down from paradise on a short visit. But they saw also that he was very stern to those who were setting their customs above the word of God, and wearing pious faces to make men think them better than they were, and that he was one who at any moment might begin to cast down the mighty from their seats. Many persons, for excellent reasons, were afraid of him. This is what the apostles had heard as they sat at people's tables in the country towns. But whom say ye that I am? Then Peter, who was a quick, impulsive person, always first to speak and first to act, said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God, and the Lord answered, Blessed art Thou, Peter, no man told you that. You have been taught it from heaven. And now I say that Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Towns had gates in that country, and their men gathered together, talking and making plans and bargains. Our Lord said that all the plots of the wicked should not prevail against his church. Had he been teaching them about the church? We do not know. All that we know is that for a moment he looked into the long future. There he stood, hated by the leaders of the church to which he belonged, forsaken by most of his disciples, with only the twelve about him, and they, like him, fugitives from their own country, in the midst of strangers. It seemed a situation which called for grief and discouragement. It looked like utter failure. But he knew how that which we call failure is sometimes splendid success in God's sight. He saw the church founded on a rock and build it to the skies. Peter's name was Simon, and when he was called by his full name it was Simon Barjona, which means in English Simon Johnson. But our Lord had named him Peter, meaning Stone or Rock, as a man on whom he could depend. Peter had now said the word on which the church should stand. Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God. Immediately our Lord warned the disciples that they must keep all this a secret. Peter had spoken the truth. They knew now who their great friend was. But they must not tell. If they did tell, it was certain that the Pharisees and Sadducees would kill him. For neither the Sadducees nor the Pharisees could believe that one so unlike themselves was the Son of the living God. If he was, then they were all wrong and must change the whole course of their lives. Everything that they stood for was at stake. They already suspected that this was what he claimed to be, once they tried to get him to confess it, saying, How long does Thou make us to doubt, if Thou be the Christ, tell us plainly? But he would not tell them. The moment he told them, his ministry and his life together would come to a sudden end. He would die a death of violence. Sometime indeed, they must be told, but not yet. And when the time came, he himself would tell them. Meanwhile, he made the apostles promise to keep the great truth to themselves. Even they could hardly see more than the beginning of its meaning. They were like the man who saw men looking like trees. But there it was, the supreme truth which is at the heart of the church, and by which we all live, that in Jesus Christ God spoke to us and dwelt amongst us. On this rock, as on a cornerstone, the church is founded. He began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected and be killed. He added that he would be raised again from the dead, but they did not understand that. The fact which affected them was that their master must die. Now that they really knew him and knew that he was divine as well as human, he must be violently parted from them and be put to death. Why must he die, a young man, hardly more than thirty years of age? They could not bear it. And Peter, speaking again in his quick way, cried, Be it far from thee, Lord, this shall never be unto thee. To which he replied in words which mean, I know how hard it is. I, who love life and hate death, all my human nature bids me to escape. I pray God even now that this bitter cup may somehow be taken away from me, that I may not drink it. But I know that the end will be as I have said, and you too, friends, must suffer. You, in your turn, must take up your cross and follow me to death. CHAPTER 30 The King in His Beauty Among the twelve were three whom our Lord loved more than the others. This he showed by liking to have them near him. Thus, when he went into the room where the minister's little daughter lay, white and cold upon her bed, he left nine apostles outside, and took with him only these three, Peter and James and John. This was not because they were so much better than the others. None of the nine, except Judas, made such mistakes or had such faults as the three. I suppose that the explanation is that Peter and James and John loved him more, and he was able to give them more of his love because they were able to receive it. Anyhow, he preferred their company. One day he took these three with him to climb a mountain, leaving the nine to wait in the valley, and on the way down he said, You must not tell. You must keep it a deep secret until I shall rise from the dead. They did not know what he meant by rising from the dead, but they promised him that they would tell no man what they had seen upon the height. Then for months and months they went about remembering a strange and wonderful sight, and wishing that they could speak of it to Andrew and Philip and the rest, but saying never a word till the time came, for they knew how to keep a secret. Then they told. They said, You remember that day when we knew for the first time that our master was the king of glory and when the first time he told us that he must be put to death? You remember how he thought about it all that week and talked among ourselves sometimes with pride and sometimes with grief, and how at the end of the week we three went away with him alone while you stayed below? That night a marvellous thing happened, but he told us not to tell. Now the time has come when there is no more need of secrecy. Listen, thus it was. And they spoke, while the others sat about them with open ears and eyes. It was towards the end of the day when our Lord in the three began to ascend the mountain. As they were going up the sun was going down and the shadows deepened on their path and the stars came out. And below when they came to a clear place and could look off the lights of the scattered farmhouses like other stars were shining in the dark. Presently they stopped and were silent in the solemn stillness and our Lord began to pray. It was for this he had brought them apart upon the mountain that they might feel the presence of God and pray. He liked to pray in lonely places, sometimes as when he was at Capernaum he rose very early in the morning and went to the shore of the lake and there walked, looking at the sky and at the ground, with holy thoughts in his heart. Once he told his disciples that it was a good plan when they prayed to shut the door. Some of the Pharisees had a way of saying their prayers standing on the corner of the street, folding their hands and lifting their eyes to heaven so that people who passed by should say, See that good man. Our Lord did not approve of that. He greatly disliked every form of showing off. So he said to his disciples, When you pray go into your room and close the door. That night on the mountain the darkness was like a door between him and the world. There then he prayed, not asking God to give him this or that, but simply standing in the presence of God, as a little child stands by his father's knee, filling the nearness and the love of God, praying in his heart rather than with his lips. But the three were tired and it was late and the night was dark and still. One would hardly think that the saints would go to sleep saying their prayers, but these saints did. As they prayed their eyes grew heavy and before they knew it they were fast asleep. How long they slept they did not know, but suddenly in the midst of their dreams they saw a light. They opened their eyes heavy with sleep and there was our Lord still praying. But now his clothes were shining with a dazzling whiteness like the clouds on a bright day and his face was like the sun when it looks down at noon. There he stood, the king of glory indeed, no longer dressed like a carpenter, but clad in radiant garments like the angels, with the glory of heaven reflected in his eyes. And there were two men with him. How Peter and John and James knew them I cannot tell, unless it was by hearing how our Lord addressed them. For they had not come up from the valley, but down from the sky, having died hundreds and hundreds of years before. One was Moses, who met God on Mount Sinai and brought down the ten commandments. The other was Elijah, who prayed to God on Mount Carmel, and was wonderfully answered with lightning and rain. Our Lord stood between these two great men and they talked together, and the three disciples, half asleep and half awake, heard dimly that the subject of their conversation was our Lord's approaching dreadful death, of which he had spoken a week before. Indeed, it was as if the words which he had then uttered were now wonderfully acted out, the Son of the Living God in his divine glory speaking of the Cross. And when the heavenly visitants made as if they would return to that blessed paradise whence they had come, Peter started up in his impulsive way, as if to detain them. Hardly knowing what he said, through fear and sleep, Master, he cried, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three tents, one for thee and one for Moses and one for Elijah. He and his two companions would pull down branches from the trees, that Jesus and Moses and Elijah might stay upon the mountain. But as he was speaking there came a swift and blinding cloud, like a sudden fog blown in from the sea, and the disciples were filled with fear and fell upon the ground, covering their faces with their hands. And out of the cloud came a voice, such as had spoken at our Lord's baptism, saying, This is my beloved Son, hear him. And Jesus came and touched them, saying, Arise, be not afraid. And when they looked up it was dark night again, with the stars shining, and they saw no man any more, save Jesus only, with themselves. Then the next day as they went down he told them not to tell, and they kept it in their hearts, remembering how they had seen his glory, the glory of the Son of God. CHAPTER 31 The next day after the vision of the King of Glory, two very different groups of people were approaching one another from different directions. One was our Lord and the three disciples coming down the hill. The other was a man and a boy making their way along the valley. This boy had something strange and dreadful the matter with him. Sometimes at home his mother would hear a loud cry of distress in the next room, and running in would find the boy in the middle of the fire, and he would say that somebody had pushed him in, but there was nobody in the room except the lad himself. Close by his house was a deep pond, and the boy was always getting into it. The moment he found that no one was watching him he would run and jump and throw himself into the water, so that many times he was almost drowned, and he would say that somebody had taken him by the shoulders and thrust him in, but nobody was ever to be seen who could have done so mean a thing. Then when he was playing with the other boys something would happen which was not in the game. He would suddenly give a cry and fall upon the ground and gnash his teeth and foam at the mouth, and he would say that somebody had knocked him down, but not a hand had touched him. Besides all this he was deaf and dumb. Never a word could he either hear or speak, and he kept growing weaker, pining away so that it seemed as if he must soon die. The secret of it all was that he had an evil spirit. That is, as we say nowadays, he had times of being violently crazy. Of course his father and mother had called in all the doctors and even the ministers, for the ministers were sometimes able to cure crazy people, but none of them had helped him. At last the news came that the prophet of Nazareth was in the neighborhood. The lad's parents did not quite know who the prophet of Nazareth was. For some said this and some said that about him. There was a rumor that the people of his own country had cast him out. All agreed, however, that he was very kind and that he had expelled many devils. So in the early morning of that day the father spoke to the boy, making motions with his hands, and told him that they were to take a long walk, and that at the end of the road they would find one who would make him well, so that he should no longer fall into the fire or into the water. But the two reached the foot of the hill before the master and the three came down. Only the nine were there. Meanwhile a crowd had gathered. There were friends of the family who had come along to see the cure, and many idle persons such as are always ready to follow a crowd, and some of the ministers. For although it was a heathen country, some Jews were living there. The father said, Where is the prophet? The apostles answered, He is in the mountain. Last night he went up, leaving us here to wait for him. When will he come down? We do not know. Perhaps to-day, perhaps not till to-morrow. What do you want? I have brought my sixth son. You are the prophet's disciples. Can you not cast out a devil? Oh yes, they said. We know how to cast out devils, bring the boy to us. So the boy was brought, and the multitude pressed in on every side, and Matthew and Andrew and the others prayed and made motions, and tried to do what they had seen the master do. But all in vain. The boy lay upon the ground in great distress. His father was in despair, and the disappointed people were becoming more and more angry. These men are imposters, some were saying. Shall we not stone them? All this time our Lord was coming down along the quiet road beneath the trees, with the three disciples beside him. But as they neared the foot of the hill, they began to hear loud voices, as of men in a dispute, and now and then a scream, as if there were someone in distress. And presently they came inside of the noisy crowd, who were shaking their fists in the apostles' faces, and somebody looked up and cried. There is the prophet now, and they all ran to meet him. And when they beheld him they were greatly amazed, like the people of the old time who saw the face of Moses shining as he came down from Sinai, and running to him they saluted him. And he asked the ministers, what is the matter? What is the question which you are so bitterly debating? And while they sought for words with which to answer him, his father came. Master, he cried, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit, and wheresoever he taketh him he teareth him, and he fulmeth and gnashes with his teeth, and pineeth away, and I spake unto thy disciples that they should cast him out, and they could not. And the master looked at the disciples, and what he saw in their faces troubled him greatly, for he saw that they were thinking of themselves. We know that, because of two confessions which they made the next day. They confessed that they had been disputing among themselves which was the greatest. They confessed also that they saw a stranger who was doing what they could not do. He was casting out devils. And they stopped him. That is, as the crowd came, the nine said, Now we will show them what great power we have. We will work a miracle. We will cast out this devil and amaze them. The thought in their hearts was not one of pity for the father and the boy. They wanted, as we say, to show off. Not for the lad's sake, and not for the master's sake, but for their own glory. They purposed to do this deed of healing. We may guess, too, that Andrew said, I am the one to lay my hands upon him, for I was the first apostle of you all. And that Peter answered, No, I am the one, for the Lord himself went in search of me and called me. And that the others made claims each for himself, saying, I am the greatest. And the result was that there was no miracle. Neither God nor man responds to that selfish spirit. Our Lord was greatly grieved. His heart was full of the thought of his coming death, wherein he would give himself for the good of men. And here were his disciples interested only in themselves. It made him fill his loneliness in the midst of people who were so far from understanding him. O faithless generation, he sighed, looking in the faces of the excited apostles. How long shall I be with you? How long shall I suffer you? And he turned to the father. Bring thy son hither. So he brought him, and one of the lad's bad fits came upon him, and he fell upon the ground, rolling over and over, foaming at the mouth. And he asked his father, How long ago is it since this came unto him? And he said, Of a child, and of times it hath cast him into the fire, and into the water to destroy him. But if thou canst do anything, have compassion on us and help us. Now that the apostles had failed, the man feared that the prophet would fail also. But our Lord said to him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief. And the Lord said, Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and return no more into him. And the deaf spirit heard, and the dumb spirit cried out with a loud voice, and the lad lay suddenly still with shut eyes, so that many said, He is dead. But Jesus took him by the hand, and lifted him up, and he arose, and the father and the son went home, hand in hand, praising God and full of gratitude. CHAPTER XXXII Over the Jordan lies a land which was called Piraea, that is, the land beyond. There our Lord spent the greater part of the remaining months of his life. He went to Jerusalem for a few days at the Feast of Tabernacles when he healed a man born blind. He was again in the city at the Feast of the Dedication of the Temple. One of these days came in the fall, the other in the winter. Piraea was a Jewish district, like Judea and Galilee. In the towns were synagogues and Pharisees. New disciples now gathered about him, and one day he chose seventy of them, and sent them out before him into the cities of Piraea, as he had sent the twelve into the cities of Galilee. So the seventy went, healing the sick and preaching the kingdom of God, and people listened to them, especially simple and poor people. The Pharisees despised them, but men and women who lived on farms and in the back streets of towns received them. At that time Jesus rejoiced in spirit and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Many of the wise and prudent hated our Lord, as they did in Judea. They thought that they knew all knowledge, and were much displeased when he came teaching things which they had never taught. It hurt their pride. Sometimes these people asked him questions, hoping that he would not be able to answer them. Once, when a company of them sat about him, a lawyer stood up and said, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? This he asked, not because he felt himself in danger of missing life eternal, or because he wished our Lord to help him. He spoke as a lawyer, whose business it is to ask questions. Our Lord answered, you have the law books, what do you read there? For the law meant more then than it commonly means now. Nobody would think of looking in a modern law book to find out how to inherit eternal life. These books are about bargains and mortgages and corporations and crimes. People read them to learn how to keep out of jail. But this lawyer's books were full of religion. Some of them are in the Old Testament. They showed how good and bad actions affect not only the present, but the future life of men. So the lawyer, remembering the words of his books, answered, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself. And Jesus said, Thou hast answered right, this do, and thou shalt live. But the lawyer was not satisfied. Our Lord had answered his question, but that was not what he wanted. So he asked another, hoping that this one would be too hard for him. He said, And who is my neighbor? For this, as you remember, was one of the matters of difference between our Lord and the chief people of the Jews. They said that the Jews had no neighbors, except such as were their own race and religion. They did not call Samaritans or Gentiles or publicans or sinners neighbors. They called them strangers, and had no love towards them whatever. Our Lord replied in a parable. He told a story about a man who was walking along a very lonely road. There were steep rocks on either side and many sharp corners. Sometimes the way went down so deep among the cliffs that it was almost dark. Sometimes it climbed so high upon the hills that the traveler, as he went, could look out over miles and miles. The man did not seem to enjoy the journey. Every little while he stopped and listened. When he came to a corner he looked very cautiously to see if there were anybody on the other side. Sometimes when a stone loosened from the rocks came rolling down into the road he would look up, greatly alarmed, and wonder if somebody's foot had stirred the pebble from its place, for the traveler was afraid of robbers. The road was called the Red Road, partly because the white rocks through which it ran had red streaks in them, and partly because of other red streaks which were not in the rocks, but were made by the blood of wounded men. Almost every day robbers would rush out upon some traveler and take away all that he had, leaving him bleeding by the wayside. That is why the man kept such a sharp lookout as he hurried along. At last, however, in spite of all his looking and listening, down came the wild brigands from behind a rock or around a corner. They caught the poor man, choked him, threw him down, and beat him, and after taking all his goods and money away they went, leaving him lying on the hard rocks, half dead, making the Red Road redder than ever. By and by there came a priest on his way from Jericho to Jerusalem to take his part in the service of the temple. When he saw this poor man he did not stop to help him, but turned across to the other side of the road, and went straight along without looking back. Dear me, he said, there have been robbers here, and very lately too. Perhaps at this very moment they are dividing their spoil in the thiebish corners of the rocks. They may hear my steps. This is a place of peril. Let me get out of it as soon as I can." So on he went, thinking only of himself. Presently there came another traveler, bound, like the priest, from Jericho to Jerusalem and on his way to the temple. This man was a Levite. That is, he sang in the choir. The choir man saw at once that something had happened, and he felt as many people feel when there is an accident. He wanted to see how the robbers' victim looked. So, instead of going by on the other side, he crossed over and stood beside the wounded man, and the poor man, groaning with pain, looked up and saw the Levite and said to himself, Ah, here is a friend who will give me help. He has come to take me up. Then do you know what the singer did? He turned away and left him. It was as if a company of people were cast away on a desert island, and looking day after day across the ocean, watching for a sail. And one day somebody cries, A ship! A ship! And there is a splendid vessel with flags flying, and they hail the ship, and the captain hears or sees and begins to come in towards the land. And their hearts are filled with joy, and they hurry about packing their things, making ready to go home. And then suddenly, without a word, the ship turns and sails away and presently is out of sight. How disappointed they would be! It would have been better not to have seen the ship at all. It was with such a feeling that the wounded man watched the Levite as he climbed the hill. So the Levite left him, and presently the priest was praying, and the Levite was singing in the service, as if they thought that God sees only what takes place in church, and does not know what happens on the road. At last there came along a man whom all the Levites and the priests disliked, because he did not go to their church. This man was a Samaritan. He stopped as he saw the wounded traveler, and had compassion on him, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine. He lifted him up on his own horse, and walked beside him, supporting him. By and by they came to an end, and the Samaritan got a place for the man to sleep, and sat up with him all night, nursing him. Then in the morning, when he must go away about his business, he called the landlord, and paid the poor man's bill, and put in his hands some money beside that, saying, Take care of him, and if it costs more, let me know when I come again, and I will pay it. The Samaritan was a stranger, both to the man and to the country. He knew also that the man's friends, and probably the man himself, disliked Samaritans, yet he did all this. One of the reasons why the king was hated was that he was so kind to those whom the great and rich people, and even the ministers, disliked. The Pharisees and Sadducees felt that Gentiles and Samaritans and publicans and sinners should be avoided. But Jesus felt that it was as bad for good people to keep away from those who were in error or sin, as it would be for the doctors to keep away from the sick. So he went in amongst them, and made friends with them, and was able to help them. Almost every day he dined with somebody who had hardly ever had a respectable person under his roof before. He said that God was not in the least like the Pharisees and Sadducees. The ministers and the priests were both mistaken about God. Once he reminded them that a shepherd who has a hundred sheep will go in search of even one which is lost, and will seek that sheep for hours and hours through briars and brambles. And when he finds it, will be so glad that he will bring in all his friends and neighbors. And you know, he said, what a woman does who has ten pieces of silver and loses one, how she takes a candle and a broom and searches the whole house till she finds it. And when it is found she calls her friends and her neighbors together, saying, Rejoice with me, for I have found the peace which I had lost. Likewise I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. Then he told the story of the prodigal son. Once upon a time there was a man who had two sons. The elder was quiet and steady, but the younger son was a restless lad who was weary of staying at home, and wished to go and see the world. So the younger went one day to his father and asked for the money which would properly come to him when he was of age. Father, he said, give me the portion of goods which falleth to me. And the father, who was a man of wealth, gave to both his sons. Then the younger took his money and went a long way off into the midst of the great world, and there had a fine time. He spent his money for this thing and for that, buying what was sweet to eat and sour to drink, and all he thought about was how to have a better time to-morrow. Thus the days went by. Some of the sweets gave him a toothache, and some of the sours gave him a headache, and none of the pleasures lasted long. But he fancied that he was enjoying them all. At last, one morning, he waked to find that he had not a penny in his pocket. All that his father had given him was gone. And then something happened. There arose a mighty famine in that land. Now a famine, as of course you know, is a time when everybody is hungry and there is nothing to eat. There had been no rain. The grain had stopped growing, and the grass had stopped growing, and every thing had ceased to grow, except people's appetites. They grew bigger and bigger. This was exceedingly hard for the lad who had spent all his money. Moreover, he found that in losing his wealth he had lost his friends also. All the gay young men and women to whom he had given so many gifts and pleasures now turned their backs upon him, and when they saw him in the street went around the corner to avoid him. For they had been only his money's friends. Indeed, he himself had not been a true friend to them. He had never really cared about anybody but himself. He had never helped another. So now there was none who would help him. Only one course was open to him, except a starve, and that was to go to work. But even work was hard to find. He did not know enough to do such work as calls for training. In spite of his fine clothes and his soft hands he could do nothing but what is called unskilled labor. That is the hardest kind and the worst paid. But when there is a famine business fails, and there are few chances even to get such jobs as that. At last the only occupation he could find was that of a swine herd. He had a hard time getting even this place, but he succeeded, and there he was day after day in sun and rain, tending pigs in the field. And because it was a time of famine, when food was failing even in rich houses, he had to have his dinner with the pigs. Now a bill of fare for a pig's dinner is not a pleasant entertainment for a man, even when the trough is well supplied. Think, then, what it must have been in the midst of a famine. The swine had husks and the prodigal son had nothing better. The farmer came out with a bucket full of husks and dumped them down upon the ground, and the boy and the pigs fought together for the best pieces. Then the prodigal thought of home. He could shut his eyes and see how it all looked. The house where he was born with trees about it, the rooms within and all the familiar furniture, the table spread for dinner, and his father and mother and elder brother sitting down. Was there a place on one side left for him? Why, even his father's servants had enough and to spare, and he was perishing with hunger. Finally he could stand it no longer. He said to himself, I will go home. I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and have no more worthy to be called thy son. Make me as one of thy hired servants. So he filled his pockets with husks and shut the gate upon the swine, and turned his face towards home. Now that day his father was looking and looking down the road. I suppose that that had happened many times, for the father was very sad about his son. It had been many months since he had heard from him, and the last news had not been pleasant news. So he watched the road, saying to himself, Someday he will come back. Away down the street, walking slowly, like one who is weary after a long journey, or like one who is very doubtful if he will be welcome, came a man, probably a tramp, for his clothes were ragged and dirty, and yet with a familiar look. And the father looked again, and, behold, it was his son. What did the father do? Did he say, There is my bad son who has disgraced himself and me. He has spent all his money and is coming back for more. He thinks that I will forgive him, but he will find that he is very much mistaken. Or did he say, Yes, it is my boy. Now what shall I do? What shall I do? Shall I take him back or not? No. He rose up instantly, running out of the house and down the road, so that he met his son while the lad was yet a great way from the house. He had compassion and greeted him, and put his arms around him and kissed him. And the son began to say the words which he had been repeating to himself. Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. But the father brought him in, and called the servants. Bring forth the best robe, he said, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet, and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it, and let us eat and be merry. So they cooked the very nicest dinner which they knew how to make, and the neighbors were sent for, and after dinner men were brought in with banjos and violins, and all began to dance. There was one exception, however, to this merriment. There was the elder brother. He was working in the field, knowing nothing of this great event. When he came home to supper he was much surprised to hear a great noise of talking and laughing, with music and dancing. All the young men and women of the neighborhood seemed to be there having a beautiful time. The elder brother thought it strange that there should be a party at his house, and he not be invited. So he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And the servant said, Thy brother is come, and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. That he was angry and would not go in. My brother has been a fool, he said to himself, and bad besides. Now he comes home and my father takes him in and makes much of him. My brother ought to have a whipping instead of a supper. Then the father left the guests and the dancing, and came out and spoke to his discontented son. And the son answering said to his father, Lo, these many years have I stayed quietly at home and minded your business and my own, working early and late upon the farm, and never disobeying you. And you have never given any party for me. You have never made a supper that I might be merry with my friends. And now your son has come who has wasted your money in rioting and drunkenness, and you are giving him the best you have. But the father said, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meat that we should make merry and be glad, for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again, and was lost, and is found. Even then I fear that the elder son did not have a cheerful face, nor did he kiss his brother when he met him. Our Lord meant that the Gentiles, the Samaritans, the publicans, and the sinners were like the prodigal son, and the Pharisees and Sadducees were like the elder brother. But God is like the compassionate and loving and forgiving father. Most of our Lord's disciples were poor people. The rich were not much interested in the things which chiefly interested him. They were giving their attention to their business and their pleasure, making money and spending it. Moreover they were quite satisfied with the world as it was, living comfortably in their pleasant houses, and dreading any change. There was still another reason why the rich did not join him. Not only were they intent upon this present life and satisfied with it, but many of them were selfish. Jesus taught that all persons should share their possessions with others. He said that if a man had two coats he ought to give one to his neighbor who had none. But the people who had two coats did not like that, and those who had twenty coats were very angry about it. It must be confessed that our Lord did not make it easy for the rich. One day a young man came desiring to be one of his disciples, and the young man had great possessions. Everybody was surprised to see him, for it was as if a millionaire should propose to become a member of the Salvation Army. The man came running, filled with enthusiasm, and kneeled before our Lord, saying, Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? The lawyer had asked the same question, but the young millionaire asked it in an altogether different spirit. He was deeply in earnest. Jesus said, Thou knowest the commandments, do not commit adultery, do not kill, do not steal, do not bear false witness, honor thy father and thy mother. Yes, answered the rich young man, all these have I kept from my youth up, for he was as good as he was rich. Our Lord looked upon him in his youth and strength and ardor and loved him. All this said the man, have I done? What lack I yet? And the Lord said, Yet lackest thou one thing? Sell all that thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come, follow me. You see how hard it was. Our Lord did not say that to other rich men. He said it to this rich man, because it was exactly what he needed. The man had never done anything bad, but on the other hand he had never done anything good. He had lived a perfectly proper, but a very selfish life. His only way was to break with it all, to give it all up, and come out into a totally different manner of living. But the young man rose slowly from his knees, with a long face, and turned about and went away. He felt that that was too much. It was at that time that our Lord said, How hard it is for them that trust in riches to enter into the kingdom of God. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. Not because it is wrong to be rich, nor because God likes the poor better than the rich, but because the rich are so tempted to be satisfied and selfish. One time he told a story about a rich man, and what happened after he was dead. There were two men who were near neighbors, but in a strange way. One lived in a fine house, the other lived on the sidewalk by the gate. One was a rich man, the other was a beggar. The rich man was splendidly dressed in silks and velvets, in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day. He had servants to wait upon him, and every day at breakfast and luncheon and dinner they brought him all manner of pleasant things to eat and to drink in vessels of gold and silver. But the beggar had what was worse than nothing. It was not his fault that he was poor. Some people are poor because they are lazy, but this man was sick. His body was covered with sores. As weeks went by, and he got no better, his friends felt that something must be done. Either they were so poor themselves that they could not take care of him, or else they were tired of nursing him. So one night they took him up and carried him out, and put him down at the gate with the richest man in town. Now they said, let us see, perhaps the rich man will be good to him. But there he lay, and the rich man paid no attention to him. He was so weak that he could not even keep the dogs off. The street dogs came, growling and jelping, and thrust their noses into his face, and licked his sores. Some persons who passed by put money into his hand. But that did little good. What he needed was not a dime, but a doctor. He should have been taken to a hospital. Sometimes fine carriages stopped beside him at the gate, and beautiful ladies got out, taking care that their gay gowns should not brush against the beggar, and went into the house, and he could look through the lighted windows and see them sitting at dinner, while musicians played. And he wished that he had even the crumbs which fell upon the floor. There is one visitor, however, who comes sooner or later to everybody, entering all gates, and knocking at all doors. None is so rich, and none so poor, but this visitor takes him by the hand. The visitor is death. So death came in due time to the rich man, and to the beggar. First the beggar died, and the angels came and carried him away from all his hunger and pain into the blessed paradise above. And in paradise was a great feast, and Abraham, the father of the faithful, was at the head of the table. And do you know what they did with the beggar? They brought him in, and gave him the place of honour. There he sat at Abraham's right hand. Or rather, there he lay, for that was then the fashion. They had couches instead of chairs, and the guests leaned on their left elbows. There was the beggar then, in Abraham's bosom. That is, reclining next to Abraham. Then the rich man died, and was buried. They had a stately funeral for him, with a long procession of mourners. The minister praised him in a sermon, and people said how much he would be missed, and what good dinners he gave, and what disposition he had made of his money. And nobody doubted for a moment, but that he had gone to heaven. Some people wondered a little if he would be satisfied with Abraham's table, having always dined so well himself, but they were all sure that he was in the same good society in heaven, as that which he had so adorned on earth. This, however, was a sad mistake. When the rich man opened his eyes after the sleep of death, he was in a place of torment. Flames were burning all about him. He who had been rich was now miserably poor. All his treasure had been put in a bank in the town where he had lived. None of it had been laid up in heaven. He was in great pain. Among his other distresses he was dreadfully thirsty, and not a drop of water was in reach. But across a deep ravine was a place of pleasure, cool and shadowy, with the wind blowing across it, and sweet rivers flowing down delectable mountains between flowery fields. And there was Abraham, and with him all the blessed saints at dinner. And next to Abraham, between him and Isaac, with Jacob and Joseph across the table. Yes, there was the beggar who used to lie beside the rich man's gate. The rich man had never driven the beggar from his gate. He had even given him a small coin now and then, and had let the servants feed him. Once in a while he had spoken to him. He knew that his name was Lazarus, and now the rich man cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame. That was not much to ask, though the rich man did not quite realize how all had changed, he being now a beggar, while Lazarus was an honored guest at Abraham's table. But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receive us to thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things. But now he is comforted, and thou art tormented. And beside all this between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that they which would pass from hints to you cannot. Neither can they pass to us that would come from thence. The judgment of God may be very different from the judgment of men. That is what our Lord meant. Some who seem to be rich are in God's sight, poor and miserable, all their wealth being perishable, so that they cannot take it with them when they die, while some poor persons, like our Lord's poor disciples, may be rich in the best treasures and be counted among the chief citizens of heaven. Good society, according to our Lord, is not determined by clothes or bank books or birth or manners, but by simple goodness. Then the rich man remembered his five brothers. He had never done much for anyone who was poorer than himself, but he was a good friend to his own companions and especially to his own family. I pray thee, Father, he cried, that thou wouldst send Lazarus to my father's house, for I have five brethren that he may testify to them, lest they also come to this place of torment. He imagined his brothers, sitting at dinner in their beautiful dining-room, thinking of nothing but the pleasures of this life, and so making ready to enter into pain in the next life. And in comes Lazarus, straight out of the grave, with a message from heaven. And the five brothers rise up in great terror and listen to his words, and thereafter live quite differently, sharing their wealth with the poor. But Abraham answered, They have Moses and the prophets, let them hear them. As if he had said, There is a church around the corner from their house, and ministers are holding services and reading the Bible and preaching there every Sabbath day. The ministers are bringing messages from heaven and warning people not to have all their treasure here below. Nay, Father Abraham, replied the rich man, but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. But Abraham answered, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, if they mind not what is said in church and written in the Bible, nothing will help them. They will not be persuaded, though one rose from the dead. CHAPTER 35 At the grave of Lazarus There was another Lazarus beside the one who lay a beggar at the rich man's gate, and then sat next to Abraham at the table in paradise. This other Lazarus, as you will remember, was a dear friend of our Lord. He lived a little out of Jerusalem at Bethany and was a man of wealth. His two sisters, Mary and Martha, lived with him. They were so rich that one time when Mary wished to do our Lord a special honor, and to show him her reverence and love, she took an alabaster box, a very precious ointment, and broke the box, and poured the ointment on his head as he sat at dinner. And the apostles who were at the table whispered among themselves that the box and the ointment together must have cost at least three hundred dollars. Our Lord loved Mary and Martha and Lazarus, and probably stayed with them whenever he visited Jerusalem. At first they treated him with much ceremony and made him a great supper, but he did not like that. One time Martha was very busy preparing for his feast, bustling about and seeing to this and to that, while Mary sat quietly at our Lord's feet, listening as he talked. By and by Martha came in and complained that Mary left her to do all the work, to which our Lord replied, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things. But one thing is needful, and Mary hath chosen that good part which shall not be taken away from her. That is, he cared much more for talking than he did for eating. It is likely that after that they received him very simply as one of the family. So he came in and went out, as if their house were his own home. But now while our Lord was in Peria, telling about the good Samaritan and the prodigal son and the rich man and the beggar, Lazarus fell sick. His sisters at once sent word of this illness to our Lord. The messenger came and brought the bad news, saying as he had been taught, Lord, he whom thou lovest is sick. But Jesus did not go. He abode two days, still in the same place where he was. The sisters waited, and the disciples wondered. They all knew that he loved Lazarus. They knew also that Lazarus was every day getting worse and worse. But still he stayed. The message of the anxious sisters was like the prayers which many people prayed to God in great distress, and God seems not to answer. After two days, however, he said to his disciples, Let us go into Judea again. They answered, Master, the Jews of late sought to stone thee and goest thou thither again? For the last time he was in Jerusalem at the feast of the dedication. In the winter he had barely escaped alive. They had wondered that he did not go when the word came from Bethany, for it did not seem like him to be afraid. But now that he determined to go, their heart sank within them. I have my work to do, he said. Our friend Lazarus sleepeth, but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep. Lord, they answered, not quite knowing what he meant. If he sleeps he shall do well. But Jesus was speaking of the sleep from which the sleeper does not wake again in this world. And he said plainly, Lazarus is dead, and I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent you may believe. Nevertheless, let us go into him. Then were the disciples in deep despair, and Thomas said to the others, let us also go, that we may die with him. Meanwhile it had come to pass even as Jesus had said. Lazarus had died, and according to their custom, on the same day they had buried him. When Jesus came he found that he had lain in the grave four days already. Somebody told him that as he came near the town. And at the same time somebody hurried to the house and found Martha, and told her that their friend was coming. The house was full of people, and was in great disorder, all the chairs and tables being upset, as was their way at a time of mourning. The messenger found Martha busy here and there, and Mary was in her own room with the door fast shut. So Martha went and met our Lord. But Mary sat still in the house, and Martha said, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. But I know that even now, whatsoever, thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee. Jesus answered, thy brother shall rise again. Martha said, I know that he shall rise again, in the resurrection at the last day. Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life, he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die, believest thou this? She did not in the least understand it. She listened, as people listen today, with tears in their eyes, when the words are read at the beginning of the burial service. But she said, Yes, Lord, I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world. For these, dear friends at Bethany knew in a dim way, like the Twelve, that Jesus was the King of Glory. Our Lord said, Where is Mary? Then Martha, leaving Jesus where he was, outside the town, went back and found her sister, and whispered to her, Saying, The Master is come and calleth for thee. As soon as Mary heard that, she arose quickly and came unto him. And the mourners, seeing her go out, said, She goeth to the grave to weep there, and they followed her. Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she fell down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. Mary and Martha had said that over and over to each other, during the past four days. So Mary lay at the feet of Jesus weeping, and the friends who came with her were weeping also. And our Lord was very sorry, knowing indeed that he could presently change tears into smiles, but entering into their deep grief. This he did that he might be able to help them. They on their part must have faith. He on his part must have sympathy. He groaned and was troubled. He said, Where have you laid him? They answered, Lord, come and see. And as they went weeping and Jesus weeping with them, some said, Behold how he loved him. And others said, Could not this man which opened the eyes of the blind have caused that even this man should not have died? Jesus, therefore, again groaning in himself, came to the grave. It was a cave and a stone lay against the mouth of it. Take away the stone, he said. But Martha, who as we have seen was a plain-spoken, practical person, said, Lord, shall we do that? Remember, he has been dead four days. To whom our Lord replied, Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see the glory of God. Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus stood and prayed. Father, he said, lifting up his eyes, I thank thee that thou hast heard me, and I know that thou hearest me always. But because of the people which stand by, I said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent me. And when he had thus spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. And he came forth. He that was dead rose up and came forth, bound hand and foot with grave-clothes, and his face was bound about with a napkin. There they stood, the sisters, the apostles, and the people of Bethany, and saw that sight. And Jesus said, Loose him, and let him go. Then a thing happened which was almost as strange as that. Some of the company, instead of being filled with joy and wonder, were filled with fear and anger. They beheld their neighbor come to life again. But what they thought of most was, that now the prophet of Nazareth would gain more disciples. He whom the chief people so hated would be more powerful than ever. And these men went straight from the empty grave to the Pharisees in Jerusalem, and told them what our Lord had done. And the Pharisees told it to the Sadducees. And the Pharisees and the Sadducees together held a counsel saying, What shall we do? For this man doeth many miracles. If we let him thus alone, all men will believe on him, and the Romans shall come and take away our place and nation. And the High Priest, Caiaphas, spoke and said, It is better that one man should die than that the whole nation perish. Then from that day forth they took counsel together to put him to death. Thus was fulfilled the saying of our Lord, that they who do not hear the voice of God in the Bible and in daily life will not be persuaded, though one rose from the dead. Jesus had brought a dead man back to life, and many believed on him. But therefore the priest and the ministers would kill him. The priests and the ministers and the people of the church were thinking of themselves. Even the prayers which they prayed were selfish prayers. The prophet of Nazareth, they said, If he comes into power, will turn us out. His ways are not our ways, neither his thoughts as our thoughts. We must put an end to his influence by putting an end to his life. They had said such things in private. Now they said them aloud in public. Meanwhile Lazarus was alive and well. He never told what he heard and saw while he lay four days dead. Or if he did, we do not know what it was. Robert Browning wrote a poem in which he imagined an Arab physician visiting Lazarus. It was a good while after the day of the opened tomb, and the physician asked him about it, and heard him tell the story. He said that Lazarus was the most singular man he had ever met. The things which interested or troubled most men, such as the march of an invading army, did not affect him. While some slight wrong word or act of a child at play would put him in great fear, more than if the child showed symptoms of a fever. And if somebody said, Why, that is such a little thing. He would look at him in surprise, as if one were to hold a lighted match over a barrel of gunpowder and say, Why, it is such a little blaze. Perhaps we would judge of things in the same way if we had spent four days in the other world. The racing of Lazarus made so much excitement that our Lord felt obliged to go away. He knew of the determination of the Pharisees and Sadducees to kill him, but his hour was not yet come. He retired, therefore, to a place called Ephraim, among the northern hills of Judea, on the borders of Iraqi wilderness. There he stayed with his apostles, preparing himself and them for the final and fatal visit to Jerusalem. Winter was now over, and spring had come. All the trees were green with tender leaves, and flowers were growing by the side of all the little brooks. It was the season of the Feast of the Passover, and for this feast our Lord was waiting. He knew that Jerusalem would be full of people. They would come from all the land, from Judea, and from Galilee, and from Peria, from the towns in which he had spoken his blessed words of wisdom, and had done his gracious works of wonder. At that day, in that city, the whole nation would be represented, then and there, accordingly the king would come. The king of glory had now made it plain what kind of a kingdom he proposed to establish, and he would present himself to his people that he might be accepted or rejected. He foresaw how it would be. He told a story once about a man who planted a vineyard and led it forth to husbandmen, and went into a far country for a long time, and at the season he sent a servant to the husbandmen that they should give him of the fruit of the vineyard. But the husbandmen beat him and sent him away empty, and again he sent another servant, and they beat him also, and treated him shamefully, and sent him away empty. Again he sent a third, and they wounded him also, and cast him out. Then said the lord of the vineyard, What shall I do? I will send my beloved son. It may be that they will reverence him when they see him. But when the husbandmen saw him, they reasoned among themselves, saying, This is the heir. Come, let us kill him, that the inheritance may be ours. So they cast him out of the vineyard and killed him. You see what he meant. The planter was God. The husbandmen were the Jews. The servants were the prophets who had come with messages from God, and had been stoned. The son was the son of God. Jesus knew that they would do to him what the wicked husbandmen did to the Lord's son in the story. But the day came, and he started on his last journey. He steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem. He walked before along the road, and the apostles walked behind, and they were amazed to see him. On he went as a hero advances into battle. They had never seen him look like that before. It cannot be, they said to one another, that he is going to defeat. He would not walk with such a step as that towards death. And they began to lift up their hearts, thinking that in Jerusalem they might find a crown and not a cross. But he turned about and spoke to them in the old way, saying the old words, repeating what he said that day when they had all recognized him as the king of glory. Behold, he said, we go up to Jerusalem, and all things that are written by the prophets concerning the son of man shall be accomplished. For he shall be delivered unto the Gentiles, and shall be mocked, and spitefully entreated, and spitted on, and they shall scourge him and put him to death, and the third day he shall rise again. But even now they did not understand. Indeed, so far were they from understanding that two of the apostles, James and John, made now a strange request. Their mother was in the company, with Mary Magdalene, out of whom our Lord had cast seven devils, and other good women who ministered to our Lord unto the twelve, and the two brothers, being perhaps ashamed to go themselves, persuaded the mother to ask the king for the best places in his kingdom, one for James and one for John. Grant, she said, that these my two sons may sit, one on thy right hand, and the other on the left in thy kingdom. They still thought that the king of glory would be the ruler of Jerusalem, that he would have a court and a palace, and would sit upon a throne of gold. The two fishermen wished to sit on the gold thrones also. The ten were much displeased when they heard of this request of the two, for they, on their side, had a mind to occupy high seats in the new kingdom. But our Lord called them all together, and taught them the true meaning of greatness. Whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant. For even the Son of Man came, not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many. Greatness, he said, does not consist in having many servants, but in being one's own self, the servant of many people. One day on this journey to Jerusalem, mothers came bringing young children to him, that he should touch them, and his apostles rebuked those who brought them. The apostles were all together too active in keeping people away from our Lord, as indeed many of their successors have been. But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased. He said, suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein. The little children, simple and natural and affectionate and truthful, had the spirit which the Sadducees and Pharisees so sadly lacked, and he took the little ones in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them. Another day, as he entered into a certain village, there met him ten men who had a grievous sickness. They were lepers. They had a disease which begins with a little sore spot on the skin, and keeps on spreading till the leper is worse than dead. People said that it was like sin, which begins with some small, wrong act, or even thought, and unless it is stopped grows on and on into dreadful disaster to both soul and body. And because it was a symbol of sin, and also because it was catching, the leper had to live apart from other people. When he went along the road he must cry, unclean, unclean, so that whoever was coming might take warning and get out of the way. Ten of these poor men, brothers in misery, met our lord as he came to the first house of this little village. They stood afar off, not venturing near, and lifted up their weak voices and cried altogether, Jesus, master, have mercy on us. For they had heard that he was kind, even till lepers. And when he saw them he said, Go show yourselves unto the priests. For the priests were the board of health. The rule was that if any leper felt that he was cured he must go to the priests in the temple and let them examine him that they might make sure of his condition, whether he was really well or not. So our lord said, Go show yourselves unto the priests. But the men were still lepers. They were not in the least cured. Why then should they go to the priests? If they had been like some people they would not have gone a step. Sometimes even small children, when they are told by their parents to do this or that, say, Why, what for? But the lepers asked no questions. Straight they started, fast as they could go on their feeble legs to find the priests in their office in the temple. And as they went they were cleansed. Not by step, as they made their way along the Jerusalem road, their pains were eased, their sores were healed, and their skin began to grow like the skin of a little child, and they were well. By doing what the Lord had said, setting their faces in the right direction and keeping on, they were cleansed. So that here also their leprosy was like sin, which is overcome more and more by every good deed that the sinner does. They were cleansed then. Should they go on or turn back? Nine of them went on. That was what they were told to do, and they did it. They went to the priests and showed themselves, and the priests pronounced them cured, and they returned to their homes. No doubt their hearts were full of gratitude as they were full of joy, but they said nothing. Of the ten only one turned back. One of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God, and fell down on his face at our Lord's feet, giving him thanks. And he was a Samaritan. He was one of those whom the priests and the ministers despised. And Jesus said, Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine? They are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. And he said unto him, Arise, go thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole. CHAPTER 37 The way to Jerusalem lay through Jericho. The city stood in the valley of the Jordan, between the river and the hills, in the midst of palm trees, and was great and beautiful. It was a place of business, being a station on an important road, and had a custom house where publicans took the toll and made merchants pay a fee for carrying their goods across the border. And chief among the publicans was a man named Zacchaeus, whose office had made him rich. But the riches of Zacchaeus had not made him respected. The publicans were everywhere hated by the Jews, because they were in the service of the Romans. The taxes which were paid at the custom house were not spent like our taxes, for roads and schoolhouses, but were sent to Rome to increase the wealth of Roman nobles. Accordingly, Zacchaeus, while he was one of the richest citizens of Jericho, was one of the most unpopular. None of the nice people, as we would say, would associate with him. When the news came to Jericho that the prophet of Nazareth would pass that way on his journey to Jerusalem, even Zacchaeus heard it. All the people were interested in his coming, but nobody was more interested than the publican. He had heard that there was a publican among our Lord's twelve friends. There was a great crowd, however, in the streets of Jericho. The season of the Passover was every day bringing companies of pilgrims through the city on their way up the red road to the feast. When our Lord came, many came with him, especially from Galilee. For, in spite of the Pharisees, there were still good men in Galilee who believed in him with all their hearts. Indeed, there were so many following him to Jerusalem that it seemed a little like an invasion. People whispered one to another. First citizen and second citizen putting their heads together, that he was on his way at the head of his disciples to make himself a king, to meet the Pharisees and Sadducees who had threatened his life and to drive them from their seats of power. All the more on that account were the men of Jericho desirous to see him. So the street which ran through the heart of the busy town was filled with a great multitude. All the windows were open and heads were thrust out, watching for him. But Zacchaeus was little of stature. Go where he would along the main street, there was always some large, tall person between him and the middle of the road. He could not see. Any boy knows what he himself would have done in such a case, and Zacchaeus, man as he was, did just that thing. He ran along before the procession and climbed up into a tree. Then they came, the Lord and the Twelve and the Pilgrims from Galilee. It was not much of a procession for a boy. There was not a uniform or a flag or an instrument of music from its beginning to its end. All that the boys saw was a line of dusty men in the dress of farmers and fisherfolk, looking very tired after a long journey. But the publican saw more than that. In the midst walked the master, the prophet of Nazareth, the friend of publicans. Zacchaeus looked at him with all his eyes and with his heart also. The Lord too was looking about him as he walked. He did not care for crowds nor for applause. He was never thinking of himself. He was always watching for an opportunity to do good to somebody. And as he went he heard men hooting and calling names and pointing their fingers at somebody who was standing in a tree. The crowd had discovered the publican and were making use of the occasion to tell him what they thought of him. Who is that? asked the master. Who is that whom the people hate? And one said, that is Zacchaeus the publican, the most unpopular man in town. So the master came to the tree and when he saw the publican he spoke to him. Zacchaeus he said, make haste and come down, for today I must abide at thy house. And he made haste and came down and received him joyfully, and the crowd stood in amazement. Then they went together around the corner of the street, the prophet whom they had all come out to see and Zacchaeus, and they all murmured. They said hard words beneath their breath. They went home and told their wives, growing more angry the more they thought about it. He was gone, they said, raising their hands in horror, to be guessed with a man that is a sinner. Indeed it was a strange matter. The Archbishop of Canterbury comes to town and leaving the procession of the mayor and the clergy and the chief citizens takes the hand of a notorious gambler and goes with him to dinner. What blank and black looks, for nobody could dislike a gambler more than the people of Jericho disliked a publican. So they went into the house and Zacchaeus stood and said unto the Lord, Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor, and if I have given anything from any man by false accusation I restore him fourfold. Up to that moment Zacchaeus had never given a penny to the poor, never had he restored a dollar to any man from whom he had extorted more than his due. The hatred of the church people had but hardened the publican's heart. But the courtesy of our Lord melted it in a moment, and Jesus said, This day is salvation come to this house for as much as he also is a son of Abraham. The sons of the father of the faithful and members of the household of God are to be found in unexpected places. For the son of man, he added, is come to seek and to save that which was lost. The Lord, when he looked up into the tree, saw a man who was lost, and he left everything, and went and found him. The next day, as he went out to Jericho with his disciples and a great number of people, a blind man, named Bartimius, sat by the wayside begging. The crowd came, and the blind beggar heard the noise of their feet and the sound of their voices, and as they came, he plucked the coat of the nearest man and said, What is it all about? And the man said, Jesus of Nazareth passeth by. The beggar knew who that was. He had listened to the talk of the town. The talk of the town was full of criticism of Jesus, but that did not affect the beggar. He was so poor that he could have his own opinions. He had nothing to lose. People speak of being independently rich, but Bartimius was independently poor. When they told him that the prophet of Nazareth had gone to dinner with a sinner, the beggar was much pleased. He was well acquainted with sinners, and knew that many of them are better than they seem. So when the man in the crowd said, Jesus of Nazareth passeth by, Bartimius began to cry out and say, Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me. And many charged him that he should hold his peace. They told him in good plain Hebrew to be still. But he cried the more a great deal. Thou son of David, have mercy on me. And Jesus stood still at the sound of this loud voice and commanded him to be called. And men, seeing that the master would befriend the blind man, changed their manner and spoke kindly to him, saying, Be of good comfort, rise, he calleth thee. Now it was early in the morning, and there was a chill in the air, for the spring was young, and the beggar had a long cloak wrapped about him. This he cast away, and came to Jesus. And Jesus said, What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? The blind man said unto him, Lord, that I may receive my sight. And Jesus answered, Go thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he received his sight, and followed Jesus in the way. CHAPTER 38 POMPS AND SOMS. On they came, then, our Lord and the twelve, and the pilgrims from Galilee, out of the gates of Jericho, up the red road, on the way to Jerusalem. At noon they rested in the shadow of the great rocks. At night they came to Bethany. The little town was already full of people who had come to the feast of the Passover. Some of them slept in tents, some in the fields, some in the houses of friends. Our Lord stayed with Lazarus. The next day was the Sabbath, and that evening they made him a supper in the house of a Pharisee named Simon, who had been a leper. For not all the Pharisees were enemies. Lazarus sat at the table, and Martha served. That was the time when Mary broke the alabaster box of precious ointment. She broke the box, and poured the ointment on our Lord's head. Some of the guests did not like that. Perhaps because they felt that our Lord would not like it. He was always so plain and simple, and seemed not to care to have things done for him. So one said, thinking he was speaking our Lord's thought, why was not this ointment sold for three hundred dollars and given to the poor? The speaker had also another, and worse reason for saying what he did. He was the treasurer of the twelve. All their money was kept in one bag, and he carried the bag. It was never very heavy, partly because so little was put into it. Partly because so much was taken out whenever they found anybody in need. And partly, some of them were beginning to suspect, because the treasurer took what did not belong to him. He took money out of the bag, and put it in his own pocket. The treasurer's name was Judas Iscariot. But our Lord said that Mary had done right, and added, looking forward to the cross, she has anointed me for my burial. Then came the day which we call Sunday. And that morning, at the service in the temple, people were saying one to another. Will the prophet come? What do you think? Will he come to the feast? Some answered, No, the rulers have determined to kill him. He will keep himself out of their reach. But others said, Yes, he has come already. Last night he slept at Bethany, and today he will be seen here in the city. What is that? Men cried. Is he indeed coming? Let us go out to meet him. Accordingly, many people went out from Jerusalem, singing as they went, and having in their hands branches of palms which they waved as the wind waves the tops of the trees. Meanwhile, our Lord was making his preparations at Bethany. It had been written centuries before in the Old Testament that when the king came he would come sitting on an ass's cult. Fear not, daughter of Zion, behold, thy king cometh sitting on an ass's cult. In that country the horse was used in war, the ass was used in peace. So our Lord sent two disciples to the next village where a man lived whom he knew. There, he said, at the corner of the street you will find a cult tied by the door. Loose him and bring him to me. And they found as he had said, and untied the cult. And the man who owned the beast looked out and said, What are you doing with my cult? And they answered as our Lord had taught them. The master needs him. So the owner knew that they had come from his friend the prophet of Nazareth as had been arranged. They brought the cult, and cast their long cloaks over his back for a saddle, and seated our Lord thereon, and started for the city. There was a great company of people following, and presently they met the multitude who were coming from Jerusalem, who turned about so that Jesus was in the midst. And they threw their garments in the road that he might ride over them, and tore down branches from the trees, and spread them in the way, and sang psalms. Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord, Hosanna in the highest. And the whole multitude of the disciples rejoiced with great joy, and praised God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen. One cried, he healed the sick in our town. They were brought to him on beds and went away walking and leaping. Another cried, I was dumb, and he made me speak. And another, I was a leper, and he made me clean. And others, we stood by when Lazarus came out of the grave. The loudest voice of all was that of Bartomeus crying. I was blind, and he gave me sight. Thus they went, laughing and crying, shouting and singing, and Jesus writing in the midst. Till some of the Pharisees said, This is too much. Master, rebuke thy disciples. And he answered, I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out. In this manner the king came towards his own city. Even now he wore no crown, and had no royal robe upon his shoulders. He was very different from other kings. Nevertheless he came as a king, to see at last whether they would accept him, or reject him. Even on the way, in the midst of the palms and the psalms, his heart sank within him. He felt that the Pharisees, with their cold looks, represented most of the people. It was indeed possible that the city might give him a loyal greeting, but not likely. They came to a place in the road where the way rounds a corner of the mountain, and Jerusalem came suddenly into view across a deep ravine. There it lay, the holy city, on its splendid hills, with its great buildings, and crowning all, the stately temple with its shining roofs. Then the king stopped, and tears came into his eyes, and he cried, with a bitter lamentation. If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace, but now they are hid from thine eyes. And so it was. It seemed for a moment as if all the world had gone after him. The city was moved at his entrance, but the movement was one of curiosity. Few people had any idea what the procession meant. They saw a crowd of farmers from Galilee, and one riding amongst them, and they said, Who is this? And the farmers answered, This is Jesus, the prophet of Nazareth of Galilee. But the city folk thought little of the people who lived in the country. They paid no more attention. And in a little while the men with the palm branches were lost in the general crowd which filled the streets. The disowned king went into the temple, and there looked about, sadly and sternly, and then returned alone, or with only the twelve beside him, to spend the night at Bethany. CHAPTER XXXIX On Monday, coming from Bethany, down the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem, Jesus saw a fig tree full of leaves, and turned aside to gather some of the fruit. But not a fig was to be found upon it. There was nothing but leaves. It was like the Pharisees and Sadducees, who seemed to be so good with their splendid temple and their many synagogues, and all their services and their interest in the church, but were not so good as they seemed. And our Lord said, Let no fruit grow on thee hence forward, for ever. So they went on into the city. Our Lord entered into the temple, and there looked again upon the sights which he had observed the day before, with such sad and stern eyes. For the temple stood, as you remember, in a great yard which was paved with stone, and had a stone wall about it. This yard was called the court of the Gentiles, because the Gentiles were free to go into it if they chose, though they were not allowed to pass the gate of the temple itself. It had been intended that this court should be a holy place for strangers. It was hoped that men who were not Jews might enter and remember God and pray to him. But nobody was praying there that day. The feast of the Passover, with its multitudes of worshiping pilgrims, had, of course, increased the number of the sacrifices. Everybody who came to the holy city would wish to offer a sacrifice on the altar in the temple, and in order to accommodate these pilgrims so that they might get the oxen, the sheep, and the doves which they must bring to the priests, a market was opened in the Gentile court. Indeed, it was much more like a country fair than like a church. There were stalls for sheep and oxen, and cages for doves, and men were buying and selling. There were tables at which money changers sat to trade small coins for large ones, and to exchange foreign money for Jewish. And those who bought and those who sold were making a great noise, filling the air with shouts and cries. Thus prayer was made impossible. This our Lord had observed the day before. Now when he came back he had a whip in his hand, a scourge of small cords. And presently there was a great commotion in the place. They who were coming in at the gates met sheep and oxen rushing out, and behind the sheep and oxen was our Lord. He overturned the tables of the money changers, and the seats of those who sold doves, crying. Take these hints. Is it not written, he said, My house shall be caught a house of prayer for all nations, but she have made it a den of thieves. He would not even allow men to carry bundles across the yard. He stopped whatever interfered with prayer. There he stood, in the name of God, rebuking the traders and the priests. Thus for the second time our Lord presented himself as the leader of the people. This time many were impressed, and a company of choir boys, coming out of the temple, began to sing verses of psalms which had been sung the day before on the way from Bethany. Hosanna to the son of David. On Tuesday, coming again to Jerusalem, our Lord and the twelve passed the barren victory, and behold, it was withered away. When he was coming to the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him and said, By what authority doest thou these things, and who gave thee this authority? But they dared not lay hands upon him. For now many of the people were on his side, taking him for a profit. So all that day he taught in the temple, and the Pharisees and the Sadducees disputed with him, asking him hard questions, trying to entangle him in his talk. Hoping that he might say something which they could use against him. But he put them all to silence. As the son was setting he went away with his disciples, knowing that it would not be safe to stay in the city after dark. And they sat down outside the walls, on the rocks of the Mount of Olives. The sun, as it went down, shone upon the city and the temple, so that the disciples were amazed at the strength and beauty of the place. Master, they cried, see what manner of stones and what buildings are here? But he answered, See as thou these great buildings, there shall not be left one stone upon another that shall not be thrown down. And he told them how the splendid city should be destroyed, and how at a time which no man knew, not even he himself, even the wide world should come to an end, and how he would return to be the judge of all men. On one of these three days, as he went away, he took his leave of Jerusalem, as he had before taken his leave of Coruscant and Bethsaida and Capernaum, saying, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stoneest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not. On Wednesday the fear and anger of the chief priests and the scribes and the elders of the people came to such a pass that they held a meeting in the palace of the high priest, Caiaphas, and consulted that they might take Jesus and kill him. But they decided that they must wait till the feast was over and the pilgrims were gone home. They did not dare to take him publicly on account of the people. As they were still debating, however, there was a knock at the door, and somebody came back with strange news. There is a man here who says that he is one of the disciples of the prophet. Shall we let him in? Yes, they said, admit him. And in came one of the twelve, the dishonest treasurer, Judas Iscariot. And Judas said, What will you give me, and I will deliver him unto you? I will lead you to a place where you may seize him quietly and take him. What will you pay me? And they promised to give him thirty pieces of silver. So he went out of the meeting of the clergy, leaving them very glad, and shut the priest's door behind him, and walked again beside our Lord. CHAPTER 40 On one of these three days our Lord told the Pharisees and Sadducees that they were like the guests whom a king invited to a wedding. Once he said, There was a king whose son was to be married. The king had planned to celebrate this glad event by giving a splendid dinner, and had sent out many invitations. All the chief people of the land had been bidden to the wedding. So the day came, and the king sent forth his servants to say to them that were bidden, Come, for all things are now ready. But they would not come. The servants came back, and there was no one with them. This was so strange a thing, for most persons will think twice before they decline an invitation to a royal wedding, that the king said to himself, There is some misunderstanding. The servants must have made a mistake. Perhaps they did not make it plain that this is the day. So he sent other servants, saying, Tell them which are bidden. Behold, I have prepared my dinner. My oxen and my fatlings are killed, and all things are ready, coming to the marriage. It must have been a great banquet. They had roasted several oxen and fatlings besides. But again, the servants came back without the guests, bringing only their excuses. One of the invited guests said, I have bought a piece of ground, and I must need to go and see it. I pray thee have me excused. And off he went down the right hand road into the country to his farm. Another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them. I pray thee have me excused. And off he went down the left hand road into the country to his farm. Another said, I am very busy today, buying and selling. I cannot leave the store. Another said, I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. None of these excuses were good ones. The new acres and the new oxen would keep until the morrow. The day of the marriage of the prince was a holiday, and no time for shopkeeping. As for the man who was just married, he might have brought his wife along. It was plain that in truth the invited guests did not wish to sit at the king's table. That was what was the matter. Indeed, a few of the servants did not come back from their errand, because some of the guests had not only declined the invitation which they brought, but had set the dogs upon them, and beaten them. Some they had killed. The servants showed their torn coats and their bruised shoulders, and told the sad fate of their companions, and the king was very angry. He sent out soldiers to punish the murderers as they deserved. Meanwhile, there was nobody to sit down to dinner with the king and queen, or to do honor to the prince and the new princess. So the king said to the servants, the wedding is ready, but they which were bidden were not worthy. Go out now into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in all who will come, the poor, the maimed, and the lame, and the blind. Then the servants went as they were told into the streets and lanes, and invited to the king's dinner those who had never had a good meal in their lives. The king, they cried, holds a great feast tonight in the royal palace. Even now the table is spread, with an ox at each end and any number of fattlings in between. And you are invited, and you, and you, pointing now to one and now to another. Come, you all, into the king's banquet hall, and sit at the feast which the king gives in honor of his son. So there came all men of people, poor folks in rags, and men on crutches, and blind men led by their little boys or dogs. But even then the tables were not filled, for so generous and universal was the invitation that a good many people did not believe that the king had sent it. Who are we, they said one to another, that the king should send for us? What cares he for the likes of us? They thought it was all too good to be true. So yet there was room. And the king sent the servants out again, saying, go out into the highways and hedges, and into the country and along the roads, where strangers pass, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled. And the wedding at last was furnished with guests. That is what our Lord said, and the Pharisees and Sadducees listened, knowing that he meant them. They were the court people, whom God the king had set in office and esteem in his kingdom. And God's servants, like John the Baptist, had gone bidding to them to sit at the royal table and to enter into the joy of their Lord. John the Baptist had been killed, and the apostles had been turned away, as in old times the prophets had been stoned. So God would take them at their word, and would open the palace, his church, to all sorts of people, to Gentiles and Samaritans and publicans and sinners. But there was another chapter in the story. This he spoke to such as were accepting the divine invitation. By and by he said, after the tables were filled and the dinner was in progress, the king came in to see the guests. Now one thing had been required of all who came. Each was to put on a wedding garment. But the people who lived in the lanes had no such fine attire. Neither had the guests who had been found in the shade of the hedges, and the strangers who had been brought in from the highways had no such apparel in their bags. So the king provided wedding garments for them all. This, said the servants at the door, you must put on. This robe of white, or that of purple, and then you may enter. But one man strode in, paying no attention, and when the king came in to see the guests, he saw this man sitting in a dusty coat. And the king called the man, and spoke to him in kind but reproving words. Friend, he said, how cameest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? And the man was speechless. He had no excuse. He had thought that it did not matter. He had not taken the trouble to heed the king's one requirement. So the king told the servants to take him and turn him out, and out he went from the shining hall into the dark night. Our Lord meant that God invites us all into the joy of his presence, into his favor here, and into heaven hereafter. No matter where we are, though we be poor, and blind, and lame, he asks us all. But he wishes us to put on the wedding garment of a good life. He wishes us to clothe ourselves with modesty, and honesty, and truth, with the mantle of charity and prayer. He who fails to do so, though he be but one among the multitude, God will discover him, and send him into outer darkness. Again, on one of those days when he taught in the temple, he told about another wedding. One time, he said, there were ten virgins who were waiting. There they sat, watching for a procession. The ten were bridesmaids, and that evening the bridegroom was to come to meet his bride, and they were all to go together to the wedding. And since it was dark, the ten had brought their lamps with them. The lamps were round bowls to hold oil, each with a wick to float in it, and each bowl had a sharp point at the bottom to stick into the end of a pole. Thus they were not unlike the torches which are used nowadays in torch-like parades. But the wedding people were late in coming, as is frequently the case, and the watching was long, and the hours went on to ten and then to eleven, in a country where all people were accustomed to go to bed early, and finally the bridesmaids fell asleep. The torches stood, ten in a row, against the wall, and the bridesmaids slumbered and slept. And at midnight there was a cry-maid. Behold, the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him. And one looked, and there, far down the long street, were lights and people. The procession was coming. So the ten maidens, in great haste, began to prepare their lamps. But now a discovery was made. Five of the lamps were empty. Five of the bridesmaids had brought their lamps, but had neglected to put any oil into them. Were they thinking of their beautiful dresses so that they forgot? Or did they say, Oh well, we shall manage somehow. We shall get some oil somewhere. They were like the men and women who never say their prayers, nor go to church, nor think much about pleasing God, saying to themselves, It will come out all right somehow. But all the time the procession was advancing, and they had no oil. At least, they had only enough to make a little sputtering flicker in the wick. And the foolish maidens said unto the wise, Give us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out. They thought that there would be enough oil to go around. There are some who think that if they do but belong to the church, or are members of a religious family, it will not matter much about their own lives when the time comes. They will go into heaven with the others. But the foolish five were much mistaken. The wise five had just enough for themselves, and not a drop to spare. So the wise said, You must go and buy some oil. Our lamps will go out, too, if we take any of our oil out, and there would be no lights to greet the bridegroom. Then the foolish bridesmaids hurried away in great distress to find some oil. But it was now the middle of the night. The grocers had long ago shut up their shops. Here they ran, and there they ran, knocking at this door and at that, trying to buy or borrow oil, but all in vain. And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came. The wedding procession, with music and laughter and lights and singing, passed, and the wise virgins took their places in it, with their lamps shining like great stars. So they went to the house of the wedding, and when they were all in, do you know what they did? They shut the door. They that were ready went in with the bridegroom to the marriage, and the door was shut. And by and by there was a sound outside as of hurrying feet, and of hard breathing after long running, and there were the foolish virgins. They had no oil in their lamps, but they stood in the dark and knocked. They knocked and knocked, but the music drowned the sound. Then they called. Lord, Lord! They cried, open to us. But the bridegroom answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you not. Here are my friends, beside me in the house. Who are you who come so late? Watch, therefore, said the master, for you know neither the day nor the hour wherein the son of man cometh. And when he comes, a lamp is of no use unless it has oil in it. And the master looked at the Pharisees and Sadducees. For the lamp of a good profession will light no one into the approval of God without the oil of a good life.