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

by Peter Rosegger

CHAPTER XXV

And so they made their way towards Jerusalem for the celebration of the Passover. Long ago Moses had delivered the Jews from bondage in Egypt, and led them back to their native land. In grateful remembrance many thousands assembled every year at Jerusalem at the time of the first full moon of spring, made a pilgrimage to the Temple, and, according to the ancient custom, ate of the Paschal lamb, with bitter herbs, and bread made without yeast, as once they ate manna in the wilderness. At such an assembly there was of course much commerce and show. The execution of criminals took place at that time, so that people were sure of one terrible spectacle in accordance with the words of the Rabbis in the Temple who said; He who breaks the Law shall be punished according to the Law.

"I should like to see such a thing once," said the disciple Thaddeus to his comrades as they went along. "I mean such a punishment."

"You'll easily find an opportunity in Jerusalem," replied Andrew; and added with light mockery, "to see criminals impaled is the correct merry-making for poor men. It costs nothing. And yet I do not know a costlier pleasure."

"How is the impaling done?" Thaddeus wanted to know.

"That's easily described," Matthew informed them. "Think of an upright post planted in the earth and a cross-beam near the top. The poor sinner is bound naked to it, his arms stretched out. When he has hung there in the people's eyes for a while, they break his legs with a club. For very serious crimes they sometimes fasten the limbs to the post with iron nails."

Thaddeus turned aside in horror. "May it never be my lot to look on at such a thing."

"Do not imagine that such talk is a jest," said another. "Every one implores God that such a doom may never befall any of his relations or friends. We are all poor sinners. When our Master establishes His Kingdom this horrible mode of death will be abolished. Don't you think so?"

"Then all modes of death will be abolished," said Simon Peter. "Are you asleep when He speaks of eternal life?"

"But He says Himself that they will slay Him."

"That they wish to slay Him He means. Just wait till He once shows them His power!"

So they often talked together, half in pleasantry, half in simplicity, but always behind the Master's back.

A change had come over Jesus since the events on the high mountain. It was as if He had now become quite clear about His divine call, as if He had only now fully realised that He was God's messenger, the Son of the Heavenly Father, summoned from eternity to go down to earth to awake men and save them for a life of bliss with God. He felt that the power of God had been given Him to judge souls. The devils fled before Him, He was subject to no human power. He broke with the history of His degraded people; He annulled the ancient writings, falsified by priests and learned men. He recognised that in His unity with the Heavenly Father and Eternal God, He was Lord of all power in heaven and on earth.

So it was with Him since that hour of light on the mountain. But the knowledge of all this made Him still more humble as a man on whom such an immense burden had been laid, and still more loving towards those who were sunken in measureless poverty, distress and subjection, resigned to their fate of being lost in blindness and defiance, and yet full of wistful longing for salvation.

The relations between Him and His disciples had also changed since that day. Formerly, although they had treated Him with respect they had always been on familiar terms with Him. Now they were more submissive, more silent, and their respect had become reverence. With some, love had almost become worship. And yet they always fell back into unruliness and timidity. There was one especially who disagreed with much. When, in order to avoid the high roads, they went through the barren district on the other side of Jordan, and endured all sorts of hardships and privations, the disciple Judas could not forbear uttering his thoughts. He had nothing to do now as treasurer of the little band, so he had plenty of time to spread discouragement behind the Master's back. Why should not the Messiah's train of followers appear in fitting brilliance? He explained what Jesus taught about death as implying that when the beggar prophet died, the glorious Messiah would appear! But why first in Jerusalem? Why should they not assume their high position in the interval; why were the honours of the new era not already allotted?

Jesus' popularity had increased once more, and in the more thickly inhabited districts the people hurried together. "The Prophet is passing through!" They streamed forth bringing provisions with them, and the sick and crippled came imploring Him to heal them. He accepted enough to meet His immediate needs from the store that was offered Him, but He did not work the desired miracles. He forbade His disciples even to speak of them. He was angry with the crowd who would not believe without miracles, and would not understand the signs of the times. "Directly they see a cloud rise in the west they say: It's going to rain. If a south wind blows they know that it is going to be hot. But they do not understand the signs of a new world uprising. If they cannot understand the spiritual tokens, they cannot have others. They would fain see the sign of Jonah, who lay three days in the whale's belly? Be it so. They shall see how the Son of Man, after being buried for three days, shall live again."

Judas shook his head over such talk. "That doesn't help much." But the others, especially John, James and Simon, did not think about the kingdom of the Messiah, or about earthly power; their hearts were filled with love for the Master. Yet they, too, had their own temptations. They often talked together of that other world where Jesus would be Eternal King, and where they—they who firmly adhered to Him—would share His glory. And in all seriousness they dreamed of the offices and honours that would be theirs, and actually disputed who among them would hold the highest rank. Each boasted of his own achievements. James had brought Him the most friends in Galilee. Simon rested his claim on the fact that he had been the first to recognise in Him the Son of God. John reminded them that he came from the same place, and had once worked with Him as carpenter's apprentice. John might have said that the Master was especially fond of him, but he did not say so. Simon, on the contrary, put forward most emphatically the fact that the Master had called him the rock on which He should found His community.

When Jesus noticed how they were disputing He went to them and asked what they were discussing so eagerly.

"Master," said James boldly, "you come to us as if we had called you. We want to know who among your disciples will be first in the Eternal Kingdom. See, brother John and I would like to be nearest you, one on your right hand, the other on your left, so that we may have you between us then as we have you now."

Upon which Jesus said: "This is not the first time that you have talked thus foolishly. You don't know what you want. I tell you, when you have done what I do, and have suffered what I shall suffer, then you may come and ask."

They replied: "Lord, we will do what you do and suffer what you suffer."

These resolute words pleased Him, and He said nothing of the enormous distance between Him and them. They were too simple to understand that. He only said: "Leave that to Him who will show you your place. For every ruler has rulers over him; One alone has no authority above Him. Consider: if a servant has worked hard and faithfully, he will not therefore in the evening sit at the upper end of the table and begin to eat before his master, but he will first prepare his master's food, and place a footstool under his feet. And so it is with you. Whoso would be greatest must serve the others. I, too, have come not to be ministered to but to minister, and to sacrifice Myself for others and to give My life a ransom for many."

It alarmed them that He should speak more and more often of giving up His life. What did it mean? If he perished Himself how could He save others? That might occur in saving people from fire or from drowning, but how could a man free a people and lead it to God by sacrificing his life? True, the heathens had their human sacrifices. Judas had his own ideas about the matter. The Master was depressed by failure, or He merely wished to test His adherents, to find out if they had strength enough to follow Him through thick and thin. If only He could be entirely sure of that, then He would hasten like the lightnings of heaven to annihilate the enemy and glorify His own adherents. If, as He Himself had said, faith was so strong that it could remove mountains, it would be quite easy for Him to show His power at the propitious moment.

This firm belief of Judas made the disciple Thomas remember the Master's actual words about faith: Whosoever says to the mountain, Depart, and cast yourself into the sea, and does not doubt but believes that it happens, for him it will happen. Mark, for him it will happen. Whether others who do not believe will see the mountain fall into the sea He did not say.

"Then, brother Thomas," said Bartholomew, "you think things that happen through faith happen only for him who believes. They form only an inward experience, but real enough for him, because he sees them happen with his spiritual eye. But they are not real for others. If that's the case, my friend, we should be lost. Jesus may believe that the enemy fall, Jesus may see them fall; all the same they still live and live to destroy us."

"That is cheap logic," said the resolute Judas. "Every one has seen how He made the lame to walk and the dead to live; even those who did not believe. Take heed! If only the Master would make some outward demonstration of His power you should see what He could do."

Others were of that opinion, so they followed—followed their Messiah.

But during their long wandering over the bad roads of the desert and over the fertile plains they suffered continual distress. Although they had now been some time in the plains they were not always in good humour. They saw how the Master renounced the power and pleasure of the world and yet walked the earth strong and cheerful. It was only later that they understood how the two things could be reconciled. He enjoyed what was harmless if it did not hurt others, but He attached little value to it. His bodily senses were all He needed to recognise the Father's power in nature, and to be happy in that knowledge. He did not deny the world; He spiritualised it and made it divine. The things of earth were to Him the building-stones for the Kingdom of Heaven. So, in spite of increasing doubt, the disciples always found that things came right, and they, too, determined to despise the world and to love their simple life.

One day they came to a place in which there was great activity. Men were ploughing in the fields, hammering in the workshops, lithe carmen and slow camel-drivers were driving hard bargains. And it was the Sabbath! "Did heathens dwell here?" the disciples asked. No; it was a Jewish village, and the inhabitants were so pious that they seldom let a Passover go by without going up to Jerusalem. Many years ago they had heard a young man speak words in the Temple which they had never forgotten. "Men should work on the Sabbath if it was for the good of their fellows," the young man had preached with great impressiveness. Now, it is generally admitted that all work is for the good of the individual and also of the community. So they began there and then, and had never since stopped working for a single day. The result was great local prosperity.

When Jesus saw how His words at Jerusalem on that occasion had been so utterly misunderstood or were misapplied through a desire for gain, He was filled with indignation, and began to speak in the market-place: "I tell you the Kingdom of God will be taken from these lovers of gain and given to a people more worthy of it. For the good of one's fellow-men? Does good depend on the property a man possesses? Property is harmful to men; it hardens their hearts, and makes them continually fearful of loss and death. And you call that good! There was once a rich man who after years of toiling and moiling had his barns full, and thought: Now I can rest and enjoy life. But the next night he died, and the property to gain which he had destroyed body and soul he had to leave to those who quarrelled and disputed over it and mocked at him. I tell you, if you gain the whole world and lose your soul—all is lost."

When He had so spoken a very old man came up to Him and said: "Rabbi, you are poor, and it is easy for you to talk. You do not know how difficult it is for a rich man to cease adding to his wealth. Oh, the delightful time I had when I was poor! Then I began to get money unawares, was glad of it, and began to fear I might lose it. And then as the needs of my family increased more quickly than my means, I thought my money was not sufficient, and the more one had the more one required. I am now an old man; I possess thirty sacks full of gold, and I know that I cannot enjoy my wealth any more. But I cannot stop gaining and amassing. I could sooner stop breathing."

Jesus told the old man a little story: "Some children by the roadside attacked a strange boy for the sake of some broken potsherds which they were collecting. But when they had got a great heap together the roadman came along, and with his spade threw the pieces into the gutter. The children raised a great cry. But the man saw that there was blood on some of the fragments, and asked: 'Where did you get these from?' Whereupon the children grew pale with terror, and the man took them off to the magistrate."

The old man understood. He went away and compensated all who had come to harm through him, and then on his way home he started once more to amass treasure!

The next day Jesus and His followers reached another village. There all was quiet, and the inhabitants lay under the fig-trees although it was not the Sabbath. Then Jesus asked: "Why do they not work?"

And one of the villagers said: "We should like to work, but we have no tools. We want spades, ploughs, sickles, and axes, but our smith is always making holiday. And it is just he who makes the best knives. There are no other smiths here."

Our wanderers then went to the smith. The man was sitting in his room, reading the Holy Scriptures and praying. One of the disciples asked him why he was not at work although it was a week-day.

The smith replied: "Since I heard the Prophet it is always Sabbath with me. For a man should not strive after material property, neither should he take any care for the morrow, but seek the Kingdom of Heaven."

Then Jesus went to the entrance of the house, and told, so that the smith could hear Him, of the man who made a journey. "Before he departed he called his servants together and gave them money with which to carry on the work of the house. He gave the first five heavy pieces of gold, the second two, and the third one. They were to keep house according to their own discretion. When after a long time the master returned, he desired his servants to account for the way in which they had employed the money. The first had increased it tenfold. 'I am glad,' said the master, 'and because you are faithful in little I will trust you much—keep the gold.' The second servant had increased the money twofold; the master praised him also, and gave him both principal and interest. Then he asked the third servant what he had done with his money. 'Master,' replied the man, 'it wasn't much to begin with, so I wouldn't risk losing it. I should have liked to gain a second gold piece, but I might have lost the first. So I did not use it for the housekeeping, but buried it in a safe place, so that I could faithfully return it to you.' Then the master snatched the gold piece from him and gave it to the fellow who had increased his money tenfold. 'The little that he has shall be taken away from the lazy and unprofitable servant and given to him who knows how to value what he has.'"

"Do you understand?" Matthew asked the smith. "The gold pieces are the talents which God gives men—to some more, to others less. Whoso lets his talents lie fallow, and does not use them, is like the man who has strength and skill to work the iron, but who lays the hammer aside to brood idly over writings he cannot understand."

"How is it then," said someone, "fault is found with him who works, and likewise with him who doesn't work?"

Matthew tapped the speaker on the shoulder. "My friend! Everything at the right time! the point is to do that for which you have a talent, not to yearn after things for which you have no talent whatsoever."

The smith laid aside his book and his phylacteries and grasped his hammer.

Then a man came by who complained that the new teaching was worthless. He had followed it, had given away all his possessions because they brought him care. But since he had become poor, he had had still more care. So now he should begin to earn again.

"Do so," said James the younger, "but take care that your heart is not so much in it that your possessions possess you!"

And others came: "Sir, I am a ship's carpenter! Sir, I am a goldsmith! Sir, I am a stone-cutter! Are we not to put our whole heart into our work so as to produce something worthy? If our heart is not in it we cannot do good work."

"Of course," said the disciple, "you must exert your whole strength and talent in order to produce worthy work. But not for the sake of the work or the praise, but for the sake of God and the men whom you serve. And rejoice from your hearts that God creates His works through you."

A rustic once came to James and discussed prayer. The Master said you should pray in few words and not, as the heathens do, in a great many words, for the Father knows our needs. Well, he had once prayed just in that way, using few words, but his prayer had not been heard.

Then James said: "Don't you remember what the Master said of the man to whose door a friend came in the night and begged for bread? He had gone to bed, took no heed of his friend's knocking, and at length called out: 'Go away and let me sleep.' But the friend continued to knock and to complain that he needed bread, and began noisily to shake the door. That lasted until the man in bed could endure it no longer. Out of temper, he got up, took some bread and gave it to his friend through the window. He did not give it him out of love, but only to be rid of him. The Master meant that with perseverence much might be attained by prayer."

The man was irritated by the disciple's explanation, and said; "What! One time He says, Pray shortly, using few words; and at another time, You must not leave off praying until you are heard."

But James replied: "Friend, you misunderstand me again. Did He say, You shall pray little? No; He said, You shall pray in few words; but without ceasing, and with your whole heart, and with faith that the Father will at length hear you. And the longer He keeps you waiting for His help, the greater must be your faith that He knows why He keeps you waiting, and at last He will give you more than you asked for. If that man gave the bread in order to be rid of the annoyance, how much more will the Father give the child whom He loves?"

To which the man replied: "Well, I did pray thus, I kept on and I believed, and yet I was not heard."

"What did you pray for?"

"For this," said the rustic. "I have a neighbour who steals the figs from my tree, and I can't catch him at it. So I prayed that he might fall from the tree and break his legs. But I was not heard."

James was obliged to laugh aloud over the foolish fellow who prayed to the merciful Father for vengeance.

"Pray for strength to pardon your neighbour and give him the figs which he seems to need more than you, and you will certainly be heard."

"And," continued the disciple, "if it is a question of praying without ceasing, that does not mean you are always to be folding your hands and uttering pious words; it is rather to direct one's thoughts continually with longing to the dwelling of God and things eternal, and to measure everything in life, small things as well as great, by that standard, in reverence and faith."

A noisy fellow asked: "How can I measure the corn I have to sell by that standard?"

"If you refrain from taking advantage of the buyer with mixed, damp grain, but give him good stuff, then you are doing God's will, and are not harming your immortal soul by deceit, then your corn and your method of acting are measured by the standard of God and Eternity."

"But see," exclaimed another, "my business friend gave me bad measure when he sold me oil, and gave me half water. And it stands in the Scriptures: As it is measured to you, so shall you measure it again."

As they walked on Jesus shook His head. To think that His simple teaching could meet with so much misunderstanding, especially among those wanting in will towards it, those who could think of nothing but their desires and bodily comforts! "No," He exclaimed sorrowfully, "they do not understand the word. They must have an illustration that they can see and feel, an illustration they will never forget."