Elsewhere Jesus's fame had become so great that all men came to Him.
The poor crowded to Him in order to eat at His table where the word had
become flesh. The rich invited Him to their houses, but He mostly
declined those invitations, accepting, however, one here and there.
He Himself went to those who humbly remained in the background and yet
desired to go to Him. A man lived in the district whose greatest
desire was to see the Prophet. When he heard that Jesus was coming his
way, he began to tremble and to think what he should do. "I should
like to meet Him face to face, and yet dare not venture to go to Him.
For I have a bad reputation as a publican, and am not in any way
worthy. Then He is always accompanied by so many people, and I am
short and cannot see over their heads." When Jesus approached, the man
climbed a bare sycamore-tree and peeped between the branches. Jesus
saw him, and called out; "Zacchaeus, come down from the tree! I will
come and visit you to-day."
The publican jumped down from the tree and went over to Him, and said
humbly: "Lord, I am not worthy that you should go to my house. Only
say one word to me, and I shall be content."
The people wondered that the Prophet should so honour this person of
somewhat doubtful character. Zacchaeus was almost beside himself to
think that the Master should have recognised and spoken to him. He set
before his guest everything that his house afforded. Jesus said:
"These things are good. But I want the most precious thing you
possess."
"What is that, sir?" asked Zacchaeus in terror, for he thought he had
given of his best. "Everything I possess is yours."
Then Jesus grasped his hand, looked at him lovingly, and said:
"Zacchaeus, give me your heart!"
The man became His follower.
One day He was dining with a man who was very learned and a strict
censor of morals. Several of His disciples were among the guests, and
the talk, partly intellectual and partly guided by feeling, turned on
the Scriptures. At first Jesus took no part; He was thinking how much
pleasanter it would be to hear simple talk at His mother's fireside at
home than to dispute with these arrogant scholars about the empty
letter. But He was soon drawn into the conversation. Someone
mentioned the commandment which enjoins a man to love his neighbour,
and, as often happens, the simplest things became confused and
incomprehensible in the varied opinions of the worldly-wise. One of
the guests said: "It is remarkable how we do not reflect on the most
important things because they are so clear; and yet if we do reflect on
them by any chance, we don't understand them. So that I really do not
know who it is I should love as myself."
"Your neighbour!" the disciple Matthew, who was sitting by him at
table, informed him.
"That is all right, my friend, if only I knew who was my neighbour! I
run up against all sorts of people in the day, and if one of them trips
me up, he is my neighbour for the time being. At this moment I have
two neighbours, you and Zachariah. Which of the two am I to love as
myself? It is only stated that you shall love one. And if it's you or
Zachariah, why should I love either of you more than the Master who
sits at the other end of the table and is not my neighbour!"
"Man! that is an impertinent speech," said the disciple Bartholomew
reprovingly.
"Well then, put me right!" retorted the other.
The disciple began, and tried to explain who the neighbour was, but he
did not get very far, his thoughts were confused. Meanwhile the
question had reached the Master. Who is, in the correct sense of the
term, one's neighbour?
Jesus answered, by telling a story: "There was once a man who went from
Jerusalem to Jericho. It was a lonely road, and he was attacked by
highwaymen, who plundered him, beat him, and left him for dead. After
a while a high priest came by that way, saw him lying there, and
noticing that he was a stranger, passed quickly on. A little later an
assistant priest came by, saw him lying there, and thought: He's either
severely wounded or dead, but I'm not going to put myself out for a
stranger; and he passed on. At last there came one of the despised
Samaritans. He saw the helpless creature, stopped, and had pity on
him. He revived him with wine, put healing salve on his wounds, lifted
him up, and carried him to the nearest inn. He gave the host money to
take care of the sufferer until he recovered. Now, what do you say?
The priests regarded him as a stranger, but the Samaritan saw in him
his neighbour."
Then they explained it to themselves: Your neighbour is one whom you
can help and who is waiting for your help.
The disciple Thomas now joined in the conversation, and doubted if you
could expect a great prince to dismount from his horse and lift a poor
beggar out of the gutter.
Jesus asked: "If you rode by as a great prince and found Me lying
wretchedly in the gutter, would you leave me lying there?"
"Master!" shouted Thomas in horror.
"Do you see, Thomas? What you would do to the poorest, you would do to
Me."
One of the others asked: "Are we only to be kind to the poor, and not
to the rich and noble?"
And Jesus said: "If you are a beggar in the street, and a prince comes
riding past, there's nothing you can do for him. But if his horse
stumbles and he falls, then catch him so that his head may not strike
against a stone. At that moment he becomes your neighbour."
Then some whispered: "It often seems as if He desired us to love all
men. But that is too difficult."
"It's very easy, brother," said Bartholomew. "To love the millions of
men whom you never see, who do not do you any harm, that costs nothing.
Hypocrites love in that way. Yet while they claim to love the whole
human race, they are hard on their neighbour."
"It is easy to love from afar," said Jesus, "and it is easy to love
good-tempered and amiable men. But how is it when your brother has
wronged you, and is always trying to do you harm? You must forgive
him, not seven times, but seventy times seven. Go to him in kindness,
show him his error. If he listens to you, then you have won him. If
he does not heed you, repeat your warning. If still he heeds you not,
seek a friendly intermediary. If he will not heed him, then let the
community decide. And only when you see your brother saved and
contented will you be glad again."
While they were talking thus, a young woman pushed her way into the
room. She was one of those who followed Him everywhere, and waited
impatiently at the door while the Master visited a house. Bending low,
almost unnoticed, she hurried through the crowd, stooped down before
Jesus, and began to rub His feet with ointment from a casket. He
calmly permitted it; but His host thought to himself: No, He is no
prophet, or He would know who it is that is anointing His feet. Isn't
she the sinner of Magdala?
Jesus guessed his thoughts, and said: "My friend, I will tell you
something. Here is a man who has two debtors. One owes him fifty
pence, and the other five hundred. But as they cannot pay he cancels
both the debts. Now say, which of them owes him most gratitude?"
"Naturally him to whom the most was remitted," answered the host.
And Jesus: "You are right. Much has been remitted to this woman. See,
you invited Me to your house, your servants have filled the room with
the scent of roses, although fresh air comes in through the window. My
ear has been charmed with the strains of sweet bells, and stringed
instruments, although the clear song of birds can be heard from
without. You have given Me wine in costly crystal goblets, although I
am accustomed to drink out of earthen vessels. But that My feet might
feel sore after the long wandering across the desert only this woman
remembered. She has much love, therefore much will be forgiven her."
One day when the Master had gone down to Capernaum he noticed that the
disciples who were walking in front of Him were engaged in quiet but
animated talk. They were discussing which of them was most pleasing to
God. Each subtly brought forward his meritorious services to the
Master, his sacrifices, his renunciations and sufferings, his obedience
to the teaching. Jesus quickly stepped nearer to them, and said: "Why
do you indulge in such foolish talk? While you are boasting of your
virtues, you prove that you lack the greatest. Are you the righteous
that you dare to talk so loudly?"
Whereupon one of them answered timidly: "No, sir, we are not the
righteous. But you yourself said that there was more rejoicing in
heaven over penitents than over righteous men."
"There is rejoicing over penitents when they are humble. But do you
know over whom there is greater rejoicing in heaven?"
By this time a crowd had formed round Him. Women had come up leading
little children by the hand and carrying smaller ones in their arms in
order to show them the marvellous man. Some of the boys got through
between the people's legs to the front in order to see Him and kiss the
hem of His garment. The people tried to keep them back so that they
should not trouble the Master, but He stood under the fig-tree and
exclaimed in a loud voice. "Suffer the little ones to come unto Me!"
Then round-faced, curly-headed, bright-eyed children ran forward, their
skirts flying, and crowded about Him, some merry, others shy and
embarrassed. He sat down on the grass, drew the children to His side,
and took the smallest in His lap. They looked up in His kind face with
wide-opened eyes. He played with them, and they smiled tenderly or
laughed merrily. And they played with His curls, and flung their arms
round His neck. They were so trustful and happy, these little
creatures hovering so brightly round the Prophet, that the crowd stood
in silent joy. But Jesus was so filled with blessed gladness that He
exclaimed loudly: "This is the Kingdom of Heaven!"
The words swept over the crowd like the scent of the hawthorn. But
some were afraid when the Master added: "See how innocent and glad they
are. I tell you that he who is not like a little child he shall not
enter the Kingdom of Heaven! And woe to him who deceives one of these
children! it were better he tied a millstone round his neck and were
drowned in the sea! But whosoever accepts a child for My sake accepts
Me!"
Then the disciples thought they understood over whom there was joy in
heaven, and they disputed no longer over their own merits.