I.N.R.I.: A prisoner's Story of the Cross

by Peter Rosegger

CHAPTER XXI

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.