LAST WEEK OF JESUS.
Jesus did in fact set out with his disciples to see once more, and for
the last time, the unbelieving city. The hopes of his companions were
more and more exalted. All believed, in going up to Jerusalem, that
the kingdom of God was about to be realized there.[1] The impiety of
men being at its height, was regarded as a great sign that the
consummation was at hand. The persuasion in this respect was such,
that they already disputed for precedence in the kingdom.[2] This was,
it is said, the moment chosen by Salome to ask, on behalf of her sons,
the two seats on the right and left of the Son of man.[3] The Master,
on the other hand, was beset by grave thoughts. Sometimes he allowed a
gloomy resentment against his enemies to appear; he related the
parable of a nobleman, who went to take possession of a kingdom in a
far country; but no sooner had he gone than his fellow-citizens wished
to get rid of him. The king returned, and commanded those who had
conspired against him to be brought before him, and had them all put
to death.[4] At other times he summarily destroyed the illusions of
the disciples. As they marched along the stony roads to the north of
Jerusalem, Jesus pensively preceded the group of his companions. All
regarded him in silence, experiencing a feeling of fear, and not
daring to interrogate him. Already, on various occasions, he had
spoken to them of his future sufferings, and they had listened to him
reluctantly.[5] Jesus at last spoke to them, and no longer concealing
his presentiments, discoursed to them of his approaching end.[6] There
was great sadness in the whole company. The disciples were expecting
soon to see the sign appear in the clouds. The inaugural cry of the
kingdom of God: "Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the
Lord,"[7] resounded already in joyous accents in their ears. The
fearful prospect he foreshadowed, troubled them. At each step of the
fatal road, the kingdom of God became nearer or more remote in the
mirage of their dreams. As to Jesus, he became confirmed in the idea
that he was about to die, but that his death would save the world.[8]
The misunderstanding between him and his disciples became greater each
moment.
[Footnote 1: Luke xix. 11.]
[Footnote 2: Luke xxii. 24, and following.]
[Footnote 3: Matt. xx. 20, and following; Mark x. 35, and following.]
[Footnote 4: Luke xix. 12-27.]
[Footnote 5: Matt. xvi. 21, and following; Mark viii. 31, and
following.]
[Footnote 6: Matt. xx. 17, and following; Mark x. 31, and following;
Luke xviii. 31, and following.]
[Footnote 7: Matt. xxiii. 39; Luke xiii. 35.]
[Footnote 8: Matt. xx. 28.]
The custom was to come to Jerusalem several days before the Passover,
in order to prepare for it. Jesus arrived late, and at one time his
enemies thought they were frustrated in their hope of seizing him.[1]
The sixth day before the feast (Saturday, 8th of Nisan, equal to the
28th March[2]) he at last reached Bethany. He entered, according to
his custom, the house of Lazarus, Martha and Mary, or of Simon the
leper. They gave him a great reception. There was a dinner at Simon
the leper's,[3] where many persons were assembled, drawn thither by
the desire of seeing him, and also of seeing Lazarus, of whom for
some time so many things had been related. Lazarus was seated at the
table, and attracted much attention. Martha served, according to her
custom.[4] It seems that they sought, by an increased show of respect,
to overcome the coolness of the public, and to assert the high dignity
of their guest. Mary, in order to give to the event a more festive
appearance, entered during dinner, bearing a vase of perfume which she
poured upon the feet of Jesus. She afterward broke the vase, according
to an ancient custom by which the vessel that had been employed in the
entertainment of a stranger of distinction was broken.[5] Then, to
testify her worship in an extraordinary manner, she prostrated herself
at the feet of her Master and wiped them with her long hair.[6] All
the house was filled with the odor of the perfume, to the great
delight of every one except the avaricious Judas of Kerioth.
Considering the economical habits of the community, this was certainly
prodigality. The greedy treasurer calculated immediately how much the
perfume might have been sold for, and what it would have realized for
the poor. This not very affectionate feeling, which seemed to place
something above Jesus, dissatisfied him. He liked to be honored, for
honors served his aim and established his title of Son of David.
Therefore, when they spoke to him of the poor, he replied rather
sharply: "Ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not
always." And, exalting himself, he promised immortality to the woman
who in this critical moment gave him a token of love.[7]
[Footnote 1: John xi. 56.]
[Footnote 2: The Passover was celebrated on the 14th of Nisan. Now in
the year 33, the 1st of Nisan corresponded with Saturday, 21st of
March.]
[Footnote 3: Matt. xxvi. 6; Mark xiv. 3. Cf. Luke vii. 40, 43, 44.]
[Footnote 4: It is customary, in the East, for a person who is
attached to any one by a tie of affection or of domesticity, to attend
upon him when he goes to eat at the house of another.]
[Footnote 5: I have seen this custom still practised at Sour (Zoar.)]
[Footnote 6: We must remember that the feet of the guests were not, as
amongst us, concealed under the table, but extended on a level with
the body on the divan, or _triclinium_.]
[Footnote 7: Matt. xxvi. 6, and following; Mark xiv. 3, and following;
John xi. 2, xii. 2, and following. Compare Luke vii. 36, and
following.]
The next day (Sunday, 9th of Nisan), Jesus descended from Bethany to
Jerusalem.[1] When, at a bend of the road, upon the summit of the
Mount of Olives, he saw the city spread before him, it is said he wept
over it, and addressed to it a last appeal.[2] At the base of the
mountain, at some steps from the gate, on entering the neighboring
portion of the eastern wall of the city, which was called _Bethphage_,
no doubt on account of the fig-trees with which it was planted,[3] he
had experienced a momentary pleasure.[4] His arrival was noised
abroad. The Galileans who had come to the feast were highly elated,
and prepared a little triumph for him. An ass was brought to him,
followed, according to custom, by its colt. The Galileans spread their
finest garments upon the back of this humble animal as saddle-cloths,
and seated him thereon. Others, however, spread their garments upon
the road, and strewed it with green branches. The multitude which
preceded and followed him, carrying palms, cried: "Hosanna to the son
of David! Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord!" Some
persons even gave him the title of king of Israel.[5] "Master, rebuke
thy disciples," said the Pharisees to him. "If these should hold
their peace, the stones would immediately cry out," replied Jesus, and
he entered into the city. The Hierosolymites, who scarcely knew him,
asked who he was. "It is Jesus, the prophet of Nazareth, in Galilee,"
was the reply. Jerusalem was a city of about 50,000 souls.[6] A
trifling event, such as the entrance of a stranger, however little
celebrated, or the arrival of a band of provincials, or a movement of
people to the avenues of the city, could not fail, under ordinary
circumstances, to be quickly noised about. But at the time of the
feast, the confusion was extreme.[7] Jerusalem at these times was
taken possession of by strangers. It was amongst the latter that the
excitement appears to have been most lively. Some proselytes, speaking
Greek, who had come to the feast, had their curiosity piqued, and
wished to see Jesus. They addressed themselves to his disciples;[8]
but we do not know the result of the interview. Jesus, according to
his custom, went to pass the night at his beloved village of
Bethany.[9] The three following days (Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday)
he descended regularly to Jerusalem; and, after the setting of the
sun, he returned either to Bethany, or to the farms on the western
side of the Mount of Olives, where he had many friends.[10]
[Footnote 1: John xii. 12.]
[Footnote 2: Luke xix. 41, and following.]
[Footnote 3: Mishnah, _Menachoth_, xi. 2; Talm. of Bab., _Sanhedrim_,
14 _b_; _Pesachim_, 63 _b_, 91 _a_; _Sota_, 45 _a_; _Baba metsia_, 85
_a_. It follows from these passages that Bethphage was a kind of
_pomærium_, which extended to the foot of the eastern basement of the
temple, and which had itself its wall of inclosure. The passages Matt.
xxi. 1, Mark xi. 1, Luke xix. 29, do not plainly imply that Bethphage
was a village, as Eusebius and St. Jerome have supposed.]
[Footnote 4: Matt. xxi. 1, and following; Mark xi. 1, and following;
Luke xix. 29, and following; John xii. 12, and following.]
[Footnote 5: Luke xix. 38; John xii. 13.]
[Footnote 6: The number of 120,000, given by Hecatæus (in Josephus,
_Contra Apion_, I. xxii.), appears exaggerated. Cicero speaks of
Jerusalem as of a paltry little town (_Ad Atticum_, II. ix.) The
ancient boundaries, whichever calculation we adopt, do not allow of a
population quadruple of that of the present time, which does not reach
15,000. See Robinson, _Bibl. Res._, i. 421, 422 (2d edition);
Fergusson, _Topogr. of Jerus._, p. 51; Forster, _Syria and Palestine_,
p. 82.]
[Footnote 7: Jos., _B.J._, II. xiv. 3, VI. ix. 3.]
[Footnote 8: John xii. 20, and following.]
[Footnote 9: Matt. xxi. 17; Mark xi. 11.]
[Footnote 10: Matt. xxi. 17, 18; Mark xi. 11, 12, 19; Luke xxi. 37,
38.]
A deep melancholy appears, during these last days, to have filled the
soul of Jesus, who was generally so joyous and serene. All the
narratives agree in relating that, before his arrest, he underwent a
short experience of doubt and trouble; a kind of anticipated agony.
According to some, he suddenly exclaimed, "Now is my soul troubled. O
Father, save me from this hour."[1] It was believed that a voice from
heaven was heard at this moment: others said that an angel came to
console him.[2] According to one widely spread version, the incident
took place in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus, it was said, went about
a stone's throw from his sleeping disciples, taking with him only
Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and fell on his face and prayed.
His soul was sad even unto death; a terrible anguish weighed upon him;
but resignation to the divine will sustained him.[3] This scene, owing
to the instinctive art which regulated the compilation of the
synoptics, and often led them in the arrangement of the narrative to
study adaptability and effect, has been given as occurring on the last
night of the life of Jesus, and at the precise moment of his arrest.
If this version were the true one, we should scarcely understand why
John, who had been the intimate witness of so touching an episode,
should not mention it in the very circumstantial narrative which he
has furnished of the evening of the Thursday.[4] All that we can
safely say is, that, during his last days, the enormous weight of the
mission he had accepted pressed cruelly upon Jesus. Human nature
asserted itself for a time. Perhaps he began to hesitate about his
work. Terror and doubt took possession of him, and threw him into a
state of exhaustion worse than death. He who has sacrificed his
repose, and the legitimate rewards of life, to a great idea, always
experiences a feeling of revulsion when the image of death presents
itself to him for the first time, and seeks to persuade him that all
has been in vain. Perhaps some of those touching reminiscences which
the strongest souls preserve, and which at times pierce like a sword,
came upon him at this moment. Did he remember the clear fountains of
Galilee where he was wont to refresh himself; the vine and the
fig-tree under which he had reposed, and the young maidens who,
perhaps, would have consented to love him? Did he curse the hard
destiny which had denied him the joys conceded to all others? Did he
regret his too lofty nature, and, victim of his greatness, did he
mourn that he had not remained a simple artisan of Nazareth? We know
not. For all these internal troubles evidently were a sealed letter to
his disciples. They understood nothing of them, and supplied by simple
conjectures that which in the great soul of their Master was obscure
to them. It is certain, at least, that his divine nature soon regained
the supremacy. He might still have avoided death; but he would not.
Love for his work sustained him. He was willing to drink the cup to
the dregs. Henceforth we behold Jesus entirely himself; his character
unclouded. The subtleties of the polemic, the credulity of the
thaumaturgus and of the exorcist, are forgotten. There remains only
the incomparable hero of the Passion, the founder of the rights of
free conscience, and the complete model which all suffering souls will
contemplate in order to fortify and console themselves.
[Footnote 1: John xii. 27, and following. We can easily imagine that
the exalted tone of John, and his exclusive preoccupation with the
divine character of Jesus, may have effaced from the narrative the
circumstances of natural weakness related by the synoptics.]
[Footnote 2: Luke xxii. 43; John xii. 28, 29.]
[Footnote 3: Matt. xxvi. 36, and following; Mark xiv. 32, and
following; Luke xxii. 39, and following.]
[Footnote 4: This is the less to be understood, as John is affectedly
particular in noticing the circumstances which were personal to him,
or of which he had been the only witness (xiii. 23, and following,
xviii. 15, and following, xix. 26, and following, 35, xx. 2, and
following, xxi. 20, and following.)]
The triumph of Bethphage--that bold act of the provincials in
celebrating at the very gates of Jerusalem the advent of their
Messiah-King--completed the exasperation of the Pharisees and the
aristocracy of the temple. A new council was held on the Wednesday
(12th of Nisan) in the house of Joseph Kaïapha.[1] The immediate
arrest of Jesus was resolved upon. A great idea of order and of
conservative policy governed all their plans. The desire was to avoid
a scene. As the feast of the Passover, which commenced that year on
the Friday evening, was a time of bustle and excitement, it was
resolved to anticipate it. Jesus being popular,[2] they feared an
outbreak; the arrest was therefore fixed for the next day, Thursday.
It was resolved, also, not to seize him in the temple, where he came
every day,[3] but to observe his habits, in order to seize him in some
retired place. The agents of the priests sounded his disciples, hoping
to obtain useful information from their weakness or their simplicity.
They found what they sought in Judas of Kerioth. This wretch, actuated
by motives impossible to explain, betrayed his Master, gave all the
necessary information, and even undertook himself (although such an
excess of vileness is scarcely credible) to guide the troop which was
to effect his arrest. The remembrance of horror which the folly or the
wickedness of this man has left in the Christian tradition has
doubtless given rise to some exaggeration on this point. Judas, until
then, had been a disciple like the others; he had even the title of
apostle; and he had performed miracles and driven out demons. Legend,
which always uses strong and decisive language, describes the
occupants of the little supper-room as eleven saints and one
reprobate. Reality does not proceed by such absolute categories.
Avarice, which the synoptics give as the motive of the crime in
question, does not suffice to explain it. It would be very singular if
a man who kept the purse, and who knew what he would lose by the death
of his chief, were to abandon the profits of his occupation[4] in
exchange for a very small sum of money.[5] Had the self-love of Judas
been wounded by the rebuff which he had received at the dinner at
Bethany? Even that would not explain his conduct. John would have us
regard him as a thief, an unbeliever from the beginning,[6] for which,
however, there is no probability. We would rather ascribe it to some
feeling of jealousy or to some dissension amongst the disciples. The
peculiar hatred John manifests toward Judas[7] confirms this
hypothesis. Less pure in heart than the others, Judas had, from the
very nature of his office, become unconsciously narrow-minded. By a
caprice very common to men engaged in active duties, he had come to
regard the interests of the treasury as superior even to those of the
work for which it was intended. The treasurer had overcome the
apostle. The murmurings which escaped him at Bethany seem to indicate
that sometimes he thought the Master cost his spiritual family too
dear. No doubt this mean economy had caused many other collisions in
the little society.
[Footnote 1: Matt. xxvi. 1, 5; Mark xiv. 1, 2; Luke xxii. 1, 2.]
[Footnote 2: Matt. xxi. 46.]
[Footnote 3: Matt. xxvi. 55.]
[Footnote 4: John xii. 6.]
[Footnote 5: John does not even speak of a payment in money.]
[Footnote 6: John vi. 65, xii. 6.]
[Footnote 7: John vi. 65, 71, 72, xii. 6; xiii. 2, 27, and following.]
Without denying that Judas of Kerioth may have contributed to the
arrest of his Master, we still believe that the curses with which he
is loaded are somewhat unjust. There was, perhaps, in his deed more
awkwardness than perversity. The moral conscience of the man of the
people is quick and correct, but unstable and inconsistent. It is at
the mercy of the impulse of the moment. The secret societies of the
republican party were characterized by much earnestness and sincerity,
and yet their denouncers were very numerous. A trifling spite sufficed
to convert a partisan into a traitor. But if the foolish desire for a
few pieces of silver turned the head of poor Judas, he does not seem
to have lost the moral sentiment completely, since when he had seen
the consequences of his fault he repented,[1] and, it is said, killed
himself.
[Footnote 1: Matt. xxvii. 3, and following.]
Each moment of this eventful period is solemn, and counts more than
whole ages in the history of humanity. We have arrived at the
Thursday, 13th of Nisan (2d April). The evening of the next day
commenced the festival of the Passover, begun by the feast in which
the Paschal lamb was eaten. The festival continued for seven days,
during which unleavened bread was eaten. The first and the last of
these seven days were peculiarly solemn. The disciples were already
occupied with preparations for the feast.[1] As to Jesus, we are led
to believe that he knew of the treachery of Judas, and that he
suspected the fate that awaited him. In the evening he took his last
repast with his disciples. It was not the ritual feast of the
passover, as was afterward supposed, owing to an error of a day in
reckoning,[2] but for the primitive church this supper of the
Thursday was the true passover, the seal of the new covenant. Each
disciple connected with it his most cherished remembrances, and
numerous touching traits of the Master which each one preserved were
associated with this repast, which became the corner-stone of
Christian piety, and the starting-point of the most fruitful
institutions.
[Footnote 1: Matt. xxvi. 1, and following; Mark xiv. 12; Luke xxii. 7;
John xiii. 29.]
[Footnote 2: This is the system of the synoptics (Matt. xxvi. 17, and
following; Mark xiv. 12, and following; Luke xxii. 7, and following,
15.) But John, whose narrative of this portion has a greater
authority, expressly states that Jesus died the same day on which the
Paschal lamb was eaten (xiii. 1, 2, 29, xviii. 28, xix. 14, 31.) The
Talmud also makes Jesus to die "on the eve of the Passover" (Talm. of
Bab., _Sanhedrim_, 43 _a_, 67 _a_.)]
Doubtless the tender love which filled the heart of Jesus for the
little church which surrounded him overflowed at this moment,[1] and
his strong and serene soul became buoyant, even under the weight of
the gloomy preoccupations that beset him. He had a word for each of
his friends; two among them especially, John and Peter, were the
objects of tender marks of attachment. John (at least according to his
own account) was reclining on the divan, by the side of Jesus, his
head resting upon the breast of the Master. Toward the end of the
repast, the secret which weighed upon the heart of Jesus almost
escaped him: he said, "Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall
betray me."[2] To these simple men this was a moment of anguish; they
looked at each other, and each questioned himself. Judas was present;
perhaps Jesus, who had for some time had reasons to suspect him,
sought by this expression to draw from his looks or from his
embarrassed manner the confession of his fault. But the unfaithful
disciple did not lose countenance; he even dared, it is said, to ask
with the others: "Master, is it I?"
[Footnote 1: John xiii. 1, and following.]
[Footnote 2: Matt. xxvi. 21, and following; Mark xiv. 18, and
following; Luke xx. 21, and following; John xiii. 21, and following,
xxi. 20.]
Meanwhile, the good and upright soul of Peter was in torture. He made
a sign to John to endeavor to ascertain of whom the Master spoke.
John, who could converse with Jesus without being heard, asked him the
meaning of this enigma. Jesus having only suspicions, did not wish to
pronounce any name; he only told John to observe to whom he was going
to offer a sop. At the same time he soaked the bread and offered it to
Judas. John and Peter alone had cognizance of the fact. Jesus
addressed to Judas words which contained a bitter reproach, but which
were not understood by those present; and he left the company. They
thought that Jesus was simply giving him orders for the morrow's
feast.[1]
[Footnote 1: John xiii. 21, and following, which shows the
improbabilities of the narrative of the synoptics.]
At the time, this repast struck no one; and apart from the
apprehensions which the Master confided to his disciples, who only
half understood them, nothing extraordinary took place. But after the
death of Jesus, they attached to this evening a singularly solemn
meaning, and the imagination of believers spread a coloring of sweet
mysticism over it. The last hours of a cherished friend are those we
best remember. By an inevitable illusion, we attribute to the
conversations we have then had with him a meaning which death alone
gives to them; we concentrate into a few hours the memories of many
years. The greater part of the disciples saw their Master no more
after the supper of which we have just spoken. It was the farewell
banquet. In this repast, as in many others, Jesus practised his
mysterious rite of the breaking of bread. As it was early believed
that the repast in question took place on the day of the Passover, and
was the Paschal feast, the idea naturally arose that the Eucharistic
institution was established at this supreme moment. Starting from the
hypothesis that Jesus knew beforehand the precise moment of his death,
the disciples were led to suppose that he reserved a number of
important acts for his last hours. As, moreover, one of the
fundamental ideas of the first Christians was that the death of Jesus
had been a sacrifice, replacing all those of the ancient Law, the
"Last Supper," which was supposed to have taken place, once for all,
on the eve of the Passion, became the supreme sacrifice--the act which
constituted the new alliance--the sign of the blood shed for the
salvation of all.[1] The bread and wine, placed in connection with
death itself, were thus the image of the new testament that Jesus had
sealed with his sufferings--the commemoration of the sacrifice of
Christ until his advent.[2]
[Footnote 1: Luke xxii. 20.]
[Footnote 2: 1 _Cor._ xi. 26.]
Very early this mystery was embodied in a small sacramental narrative,
which we possess under four forms,[1] very similar to one another.
John, preoccupied with the Eucharistic ideas,[2] and who relates the
Last Supper with so much prolixity, connecting with it so many
circumstances and discourses[3]--and who was the only one of the
evangelists whose testimony on this point has the value of an
eye-witness--does not mention this narrative. This is a proof that he
did not regard the Eucharist as a peculiarity of the Lord's Supper.
For him the special rite of the Last Supper was the washing of feet.
It is probable that in certain primitive Christian families this
latter rite obtained an importance which it has since lost.[4] No
doubt, Jesus, on some occasions, had practised it to give his
disciples an example of brotherly humility. It was connected with the
eve of his death, in consequence of the tendency to group around the
Last Supper all the great moral and ritual recommendations of Jesus.
[Footnote 1: Matt. xxvi. 26-28; Mark xiv. 22-24; Luke xxii. 19-21; 1
_Cor._ xi. 23-25.]
[Footnote 2: Chap. vi.]
[Footnote 3: Chaps. xiii.-xvii.]
[Footnote 4: John xiii. 14, 15. Cf. Matt. xx. 26, and following; Luke
xxii. 26, and following.]
A high sentiment of love, of concord, of charity, and of mutual
deference, animated, moreover, the remembrances which were cherished
of the last hours of Jesus.[1] It is always the unity of his Church,
constituted by him or by his Spirit, which is the soul of the symbols
and of the discourses which Christian tradition referred to this
sacred moment: "A new commandment I give unto you," said he, "that ye
love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.
By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love
one to another. Henceforth I call you not servants; for the servant
knoweth not what his lord doeth: but I have called you friends; for
all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you.
These things I command you, that ye love one another."[2] At this last
moment there were again evoked rivalries and struggles for
precedence.[3] Jesus remarked, that if he, the Master, had been in the
midst of his disciples as their servant, how much more ought they to
submit themselves to one another. According to some, in drinking the
wine, he said, "I will not drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine
until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's
kingdom."[4] According to others, he promised them soon a celestial
feast, where they would be seated on thrones at his side.[5]
[Footnote 1: John xiii. 1, and following. The discourses placed by
John after the narrative of the Last Supper cannot be taken as
historical. They are full of peculiarities and of expressions which
are not in the style of the discourses of Jesus; and which, on the
contrary, are very similar to the habitual language of John. Thus the
expression "little children" in the vocative (John xiii. 33) is very
frequent in the First Epistle of John. It does not appear to have been
familiar to Jesus.]
[Footnote 2: John xiii. 33-35, xv. 12-17.]
[Footnote 3: Luke xxii. 24-27. Cf. John xiii. 4, and following.]
[Footnote 4: Matt. xxvi. 29; Mark xiv. 25; Luke xxii. 18.]
[Footnote 5: Luke xxii. 29, 30.]
It seems that, toward the end of the evening, the presentiments of
Jesus took hold of the disciples. All felt that a very serious danger
threatened the Master, and that they were approaching a crisis. At one
time Jesus thought of precautions, and spoke of swords. There were two
in the company. "It is enough," said he.[1] He did not, however,
follow out this idea; he saw clearly that timid provincials would not
stand before the armed force of the great powers of Jerusalem. Peter,
full of zeal, and feeling sure of himself, swore that he would go with
him to prison and to death. Jesus, with his usual acuteness, expressed
doubts about him. According to a tradition, which probably came from
Peter himself, Jesus declared that Peter would deny him before the
crowing of the cock. All, like Peter, swore that they would remain
faithful to him.[2]
[Footnote 1: Luke xxii. 36-38.]
[Footnote 2: Matt. xxvi. 31, and following; Mark xiv. 29, and
following; Luke xxii. 33, and following; John xiii. 36, and
following.]