At that time there lived in Jerusalem, the royal city, a man who was
perfectly happy. He had everything that makes life pleasant: great
wealth, powerful friends, and beautiful women who daily crowned his
head with wreaths of roses. He was still young, every one of his
wishes was fulfilled, and it seemed as if things would always be the
same. And yet, sometimes, amid all the joy and gladness there would be
a quiet hour in which he thought over and measured his good fortune,
and then he felt afraid. Yes, he was greatly troubled, for every day
he saw, on all hands, how property vanished, and how the coffins of
those who the day before had been enjoying life were carried to the
grave.
Then this man, who, although he was happy, was yet beset with fears,
heard that there was a prophet out in the wilderness who had eternal
life. He knew of everlasting wealth and happiness, and half the world
were flocking to him in order to share in it. So Simeon--that was his
name--determined to seek out this man. He locked up his precious
stones in iron chests, delivered his palaces, vineyards, ships and
servants into the keeping of his steward, gave his women to the
protection of the gods, and gathered his slaves round him. He rode out
of the town on a thoroughbred steed, he wore soft, bright-coloured
garments adorned with gold and jewels, his scimitar at his side, and
waving feathers of rare birds in his hat. A troop of servants
accompanied him, and by his side rode Moors on African camels, holding
a canopy over him to protect him from the sun, and fanning him into
coolness with flowery fans. They brought with them fruits of the East
and the South in golden dishes, tasty fishes and game, rare wines and
incense, and pillows for sleeping on. During its progress the
procession met black figures carrying a dead man. The body lay swathed
in white linen on a high board, and a raven circled round it in the
air. Simeon turned indignantly away; he had a horror of all that was
dead. He scattered coins among the mourners, for he would have liked
to throw a gay covering adorned with precious stones over all sorrow
and mourning.
When he reached the mountains his horse began to stumble and falter.
The steed's hoofs were insecure on the ringing flat stones; he reared
his head and snorted, and would not go on. Simeon took counsel how he
was to proceed. Natives leading mules came by, and offered them to
him, but he refused. He could not go to the Prophet who held the key
to imperishable wealth and eternal life on such contemptible beasts.
His slaves had to make a litter, and he lay under its glittering canopy
on soft cushions, while six Moors bore their master thus into the
desert. When they rested at an oasis, it was like a royal camp;
servants handed him water from the spring in a crystal goblet, skilful
cooks prepared the meal; beautiful women, whose skin was soft as velvet
and brown as copper, spread out their black hair for him and delighted
him with harp-playing, while armed men kept watch against the desert
chief, Barabbas.
The country became more and more uninviting, and it was almost
impossible to avoid many discomforts. Simeon remembered the comfort of
his palace in Jerusalem, and contemplated turning back. And yet the
thought of the wise man who could help him to immortality proved too
attractive. People came over the bare hills who told of the teacher at
the other extreme of the desert, how He gathered at times all kinds of
people round Him and spoke of the everlasting Kingdom of God. And so
the swaying litter went on farther, and the next day reached the valley
through dry rocky ravines, and found there a few olive and fig trees.
People crowded round one of the fig trees; they were for the most part
poor, sad-looking creatures, miserable outcasts wandering, homeless and
loveless, here and there. Clothed in scanty rags, their forms bent,
they turned their faces towards the tree, for there He stood and spoke.
"Be ye not sad nor cast down. You miss nothing of the world's
attractions. Yours is the Father and His Kingdom. Trust in Him; you
are His. You shall be made glad through love; things will be easier
for you if you love than if you hate. And in every misfortune that
comes upon you, keep a steadfast soul, and then you have nothing to
lose."
Simeon clearly heard the strange words, and thought to himself: "Can
this be He? No, a wise man does not surround himself with such a
shabby, poverty-stricken crowd. And yet they say it is He." Simeon
got out of his litter and drew his scimitar. Then he pressed forward
amid the disagreeable smell of old clothes and of the perspiring crowd.
Oh, how repulsive is the odour of the poor! The multitude shyly gave
way to the brilliant figure, for never had its like been seen in the
Master's neighbourhood. Jesus stood calmly under the fig tree and saw
the stranger coming. He stood still three paces off Him, beat his
head, placed his hand on his brow, like a king who greets another.
"Sir," said the stranger, and his voice was not sharp and shrill as
when he gave his servants orders, but low and hoarse. "Sir, I have
come a long way; I have sought you a long while."
Jesus held out His hand to him in silence.
Simeon was excited. He wanted to explain his object at once so as to
return to Jerusalem without delay, but the words would not come. He
stammered out; "Sir, I hear that you understand about eternal life.
Therefore am I come to you. Tell me where it is to be found. What
shall I do in order to possess eternal life?"
Jesus stepped forward a pace, looked earnestly at the man, and said:
"If you desire to live, keep the commandments of Moses."
"Of Moses?" returned the stranger, surprised. "But I do. Although I
am of pagan descent, in these matters I follow the people among whom I
live. But that is not the point. They die. I want to live for ever."
Then said Jesus: "If you desire to live for ever, follow Him Who lives
for ever. Love God above everything, and your neighbour as yourself."
"Oh, Master," said Simeon, "that is just what I strive to do. And yet
I am afraid."
Whereupon Jesus said: "You are afraid because you ought to do it, and
desire to do it, and yet do it not. You possess palaces in the town,
fertile acres in the country, ships on the sea, laden with precious
things from all quarters of the world. You possess a thousand slaves.
Your stewards would fill many volumes if they wrote down all that you
possess."
"Sir, how do you know everything?"
"My friend, your brilliant train spells wealth; but look at the people
who follow Me. They have poor garments but glad souls, they have the
Kingdom of God within them. If you are in earnest, you must give up
all you possess."
"Give up all I possess?"
"You must give it up and become like these. Then come to Me, and I
will lead you to everlasting life."
When Jesus had said that and more, the stranger cast down his head, and
slowly stepped back. What? I must become like these lowly, beggarly
people? must deliberately step out of my accustomed circle into this
boundless misery? No, no man could do it. He returned to his suite in
very low spirits.
Jesus looked after him thoughtfully with a kindly glance.
"Who is he?" the disciples asked. "He wears royal garments. We have
never seen such silks. Is he a priest from the East? If he came in
order to make us gifts, he has forgotten his intention."
Paying no heed to the jesting words, the Master said thoughtfully: "It
is difficult to gain a rich man for blessedness. Men's wills are too
weak. Their bodies are lapped in luxury, yet scorn of the soul leaves
them a prey to fear. Yes, My friends, it is easier for a camel to go
through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter our heaven."
The word was spoken more in sorrow than in anger. And then someone
ventured to say: "Yes, if the commandments are too hard, there must be
sin. Men are bound to transgress them."
Jesus looked at the trembler: "Why, then, am I come? Why, then, do I
show you how light the burden is? Do you not see for yourselves how
free a man is when he has thrown off great cares and desires? Nay, you
will never see that till the grace of God is given you."
They scarcely heard what He said. The brilliant procession had
attracted their attention, and as it moved off with its horses, camels,
riders, Moors, and lovely women, they looked after it with longing
eyes. A little old hunchbacked Israelite, who was cowering behind a
block of stone, murmured with some malice: "Seems to me they'd rather
go with the heathen than wait here for the grace of the Heavenly
Father."
Simeon once more lay in the swaying litter and thought. He tried to
reconcile his unaccomplished purpose with his conscience. This
Prophet--he was a visionary. What could the Kingdom of God within us
mean? Visionary! intended only to make people lazy and incapable. A
doctrine for vagabonds and beggars! And so that was living for ever!
So long as _he_ lived he should believe himself to be right, and when
he was dead, he could not know that he had been wrong. And then the
social danger. The possessor not the owner of his own property? He
must give it up, share it with the poor. Such equality of property or
lack of property would prevent all progress, and plunge everything into
mediocrity. No, that is not my salvation! Ah, well, this journey into
the desert will be an advantage to me in one way: it will make me feel
happier than ever in my comfortable house.
He took the opportunity of a last look at the place on which he now
turned his back. Several, attracted by the brilliant cavalcade, had
followed from afar. Three of the disciples had even come after him in
order to set right a misunderstanding. They came up with the stranger
at a spring which gushed forth from a rock, and grass grew round it.
The Moors wished to prevent them coming nearer, but Simeon recognised
that they were not dangerous, and let them approach him.
James, one of the disciples, said: "Great Lord, it is a pity. You are
one of the few who have left our Master without accomplishing their
purpose. It would not be quite so hard as you think. He Himself says
that if a man only has a good will he is never lost. The will to live
for ever is the thing."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Simeon. "His demands are quite
impossible."
"Must everything be taken so literally?" said James. "The Master
always puts the ideal high, and expresses it in lofty words, so that it
may the better stay in the memory."
Simeon waved them aside with his gold-encircled hand. "To give up all
I possess! To become horribly poor----?"
Then another disciple stepped forward, stood before him in a
sad-coloured garment, crying: "Look at us. Have we given up
everything? We never had much more than we have now, and what we had
we have still. Our brother Thomas has only one coat because he is
full-blooded; I have two coats because I easily feel cold. If I had
poor legs the Master would allow me an ass like Thaddeus. Every one
has what he needs. You need more than we do because you are accustomed
to more. But you cannot use all that you have for yourself. And yet
you need it for the many hundreds of men you employ, who work for the
good of the country, and live by you. I say that your property belongs
to you by right just as my second coat to me, and that you can quite
well be His disciple."
"You chatter too much, Philip," said James reprovingly. "If a man
makes a pilgrimage of repentance towards eternal life, he doesn't
travel like the Emperor of the Indies, or if he does, he doesn't know
what he wants. Believe me, noble sir, wealth is always dangerous, even
for life. The best protection against envy, hate, and sudden attacks
is poverty."
There was a third disciple, Matthew, with them, and he addressed
himself not to the stranger, but to his comrades, and said: "Brothers,
it must be clearly understood that he who desires the Kingdom of Heaven
must give up everything that causes him unrest; otherwise he cannot be
entirely with the Father. But you," turning to the great man from
Jerusalem, "you do not wish to break with the world? Well, then, do
one thing, love your neighbour. Keep your silken raiment, but clothe
the naked. Keep your riding-horse, but give crutches to the lame.
Keep your high position, but free your slaves. Only if you think what
is brought you from the fields, the mines, the workshops is yours, then
woe be to you!"
"I would willingly do one thing," said Simeon. "Good! then say to your
slaves, 'You are free. If you will continue to serve me, I will treat
you well. If you prefer to go your own way, take what you require of
good clothing and mules.' Will you do that, stranger?"
"You fanatic!" shouted Simeon angrily. "What notions you have about
men. They're not like that. Life's very different from that!"
"But life will be like that some day," said Matthew.
"He is a Messiah who destroys the Kingdom instead of building it,"
exclaimed Simeon, jumping into his litter and giving the sign to depart.
The procession moved on slowly, its glitter showing up against the dark
rocks of the desert track. The disciples gazed after it in silence.
A little old man lay on the yellow sand. He was so grey and dwarfish
that he looked like a mountain sprite. The old fellow was at home in
the bare, big rocks. He loved the desert, for it is the home of great
thoughts. He loved the desert where he hoped to find the entrance to
Nirvana. Now when the disciples passed near him as they were returning
to the Master, he pushed the upper part of his body out of the sand,
and asked: "What did the man want to whom you were speaking?"
"He wanted to be able to live for ever."
"To live for ever!" exclaimed the old fellow in surprise. "And that is
why the man drags himself across the desert. What extraordinary people
there are! Now I could go any distance to find my Nirvana. I only
desire eternal life for my enemies. It is many a day since people said
I was a hundred years old. If you are men of wisdom, teach me, tell me
what I must do to reach Nirvana?"
They were astonished. It was something like out of a fairy tale. A
living creature who did not wish to live! But Matthew knew how to
answer him.
"My friend, your desire is modest, but it can never be fulfilled. You
will never be nothing. If you die, you lose only your body, not
yourself. You will, perhaps, not live, but you will be just as the
same as now: you are not living now, and yet you exist. Breathing and
waiting is not living. Living is fulfilment, is love--is the Kingdom
of Heaven."
"My Kingdom of Heaven is Nirvana," said the little old man, and buried
himself again in the sand.
As they went along Matthew said: "He fears everlasting existence
because he does not recognise a God. But he is not so far from us as
the man who loves the world."
Simeon went on his way, and towards evening reached the oasis of Kaba.
He ordered his people to encamp there for the night. The servants,
porters, and animals formed the outer ring, the tent--in which he took
his supper, stretched himself on his cushions, and let himself be
fanned to sleep by the maidens--was in the centre. But he did not
sleep well. He had bad dreams: his house in Jerusalem was burnt down,
his ships were wrecked, faithless stewards broke open his chests. And
amid all, always the cry, "Give it all up!" About midnight he awoke.
And it was no longer a dream, but terrible reality. A muffled noise
could be heard throughout the camp, dark forms with glittering weapons
moved softly about, in the camp itself crawling figures moved softly
here and there. A tall, dark man, accompanied by Bedouins, carrying
torches and knives, stood in front of Simeon.
"Do not be alarmed, my princely friend!" he said to Simeon, who jumped
up; but none could tell whether he spoke from arrogance or authority,
kindly or in scorn. "It's true we are disturbing your night's repose,
but, provided you give no trouble, we have no evil designs. Hand over
all that you possess."
In the first confusion the wretched man thought he heard the Prophet
speaking, but he soon noted the difference. The Prophet and His
disciples gave up everything that they possessed. This man took
everything that others possessed.
"I know you, proud citizen of Jerusalem. I am Barabbas, called the
king of the desert. It is useless to resist. Three hundred men are at
this moment keeping watch round your camp. We've settled matters with
your servants and slaves; they are powerless."
It was clear to the poor rich man what the chief meant. His slaves
were slain, he was menaced by a like fate. What had that disciple of
the Prophet said? Wealth endangered life, and poverty protected it.
If he had set his followers free, giving them what they needed, and
wandered about in simple fashion on his own legs, the robber's knife
would not now be pointed at his breast. In unrestrained rage he
uttered a brutal curse: "Take whatever you can find, and do not mock
me, you infamous beast of the desert!"
"Calmly, calmly, my dear sir," said the chief, while dusky men rolled
up carpets, clothes, arms, jewels, and golden goblets, and threw them
into big sacks. "See, we are helping you to pack up."
"Take the rubbish away," shouted Simeon, "and leave me in peace."
The chief, Barabbas, grinned. "I fancy, my friend, that you and I know
each other too well for me to let you go back to Jerusalem. You would
then have too great a desire to have me with you. You would send out
the Romans to search for me, and bring me to the beautiful city. The
desert is much more to my taste: life is pleasanter there. Now, tell
me where the bags of coin such as a man like you always carries about
with him are hidden. No? Then you may go to sleep."
He who went forth to seek eternal life is now in danger of losing
mortal life. In terror of death, cold sweat on his brow, he began to
haggle for his life with the desert king. He not only offered all that
he had with him. The next caravans were bringing him rare spices and
incense; bars of gold, diamonds, and pearls were coming in the Indian
ships, and he would send all out to the desert, as well as beautiful
women slaves, with jewels to deck their throats. Only he must be
allowed to keep his bare life.
Grinning and wrinkling up his snub nose, Barabbas let it be understood
that he was not to be won with women and promises--he was no longer
young enough. Neither would he have any executioner dispatched in
search of him--he was not old enough. And he had his weaknesses. He
could not decide which would suit the noble citizen's slender, white
neck best, metal or silk. He took a silken string from the pocket of
his cloak, while two Bedouins roughly held Simeon.
Meanwhile, outside the camp, the second chief was packing the stolen
treasure on the camels by torchlight. Whenever he stumbled over a dead
body he muttered a curse, and when his work was finished he sought his
comrade. Women in chains wept loudly, not so much on account of their
imprisonment--they took that almost as a matter of course--but because
their master was being murdered in the tent. So the second chief
snatched a torch from a servant, hastened to the tent, and arrived just
in the nick of time.
"Barabbas!" he exclaimed, taking hold of the murderer, "don't you
remember what we determined? We only kill those who fight; we do not
kill defenceless persons."
Barabbas removed his thin arms from his victim and in a tearful voice
grumbled: "Dismas, you are dreadful. I'm old now, and am I to have no
more pleasure?"
Dismas said meaningly: "If the old man does not keep his agreement, the
troop will have its pleasure, and, for a change, swing him who likes to
be called king of the desert."
That had the desired effect. Barabbas knew the band cared much more
for Dismas than for himself, and he did not wish matters to come to a
climax.
When day dawned a mule was led to Simeon. One of his slaves, with his
wounded arm in a sling, was allowed him, and he carried some bread and
his cloak, and led the beast. And so the citizen of Jerusalem returned
to the town he had left a week before under such brilliant
circumstances, a defeated and plundered man.
The affair attracted great attention in the city. Armed incursions
were eagerly made into the desert between Jerusalem and the Jordan,
where one evil deed after another was reported. Even the Rabbis and
Pharisees preached a campaign to clear the rocks and sandy flats of the
dangerous and destructive hordes by which they were infested. The
famous band of the chiefs, Barabbas and Dismas--so it was said--were
not the worst. Much more ominous were the vagrant crowds that gathered
about the so-called Messiah from Nazareth, who, feeling himself safe in
the desert, indulged in disorderly speeches and acts. So it was
settled to send out a large company of soldiers, led by the violent
Pharisee, Saul, a weaver who had left his calling out of zeal for the
law, in order to free the land from the mob of robbers and heretics.
Now about this time Dismas, the old robber-chief, fell into deep
contrition. His heart had never really been in his criminal calling.
Murder was particularly hateful to him, and, so far as he was free to
do so, he had always sought to avoid it. Now even plundering and
robbing became hateful to him. In the night he had visions of the
terrible Jehovah. He thought of John, the desert preacher, and
considered it high time to repent. So one day he said to Barabbas:
"Do you know, comrade, there is just now a prince at the oasis of Silam
who has with him immensely more wealth than that citizen of Jerusalem?
I know his position and his people, and I know how to get at him.
Shall we take this lord?"
"If you continue to be so useless, Dismas, you'll be flung to the
vultures." Such were the terms in which Barabbas thanked his ally. It
was decided that the attack should be made. Dismas led the band
towards the oasis of Silam. Barabbas went with his steed decorated
with gay-coloured feathers, an iron coronet on his head. For it was a
prince whom he was to visit! Dismas encamped his men under a rocky
precipice. And when at night time all rested in order to be fit for
the attack on the princely train early in the morning, Dismas climbed
the rocks and gave the signal. The Roman soldiery hidden behind the
rocks cut down all who opposed them, and took the rest prisoners,
Dismas and Barabbas among them. When the latter saw that he had been
betrayed, he began to rage in his chains like a wild animal.
"What would you have brother?" said Dismas to Barabbas, who had often
scorned him so bitterly. "Am I not a prisoner, too? Haven't you
always preached that right lay with the stronger? So then the Romans
are right this time. Once you betrayed me and forced me to join the
plundering Bedouins, most excellent Barabbas, and now it's my turn.
I've betrayed you to the arm of Rome. And we'll probably be impaled!"
Then, as if that were a real delight, he brought his hand down
cheerfully on his companion's shoulder so that his chains rattled.
"Yes, my dearest brother, they will impale us!"
They were brought in gangs to Jerusalem, where they lay in prison for
many long months awaiting death. On account of his self-surrender,
Dismas had been granted his wish for solitary confinement. He desired,
undisturbed, to take stock of his wasted life. A never-ending line of
dark, bloody figures passed before him. But there was one patch of
light amid the gloom. It had happened many years ago, but he had a
very clear remembrance of that distant hour. A young mother with her
child rode on an ass. The infant spread out his little arms and looked
at him. But never in his life had human creature looked at him like
that child had looked, with such a glance of ardent love.
If only once again, before he died, he could but see a beam of light
like that.