CHAPTER XXXV
Anxiety increased in the quiet house at Nazareth. Mary determined to go to Jerusalem for the holy festival to offer her sorrow as a sacrifice to God, to implore Him to enlighten her erring son, and to restore to Him the faith of His ancestors. As she journeyed through Samaria and Judaea she thought of the days long past, when she had travelled that way to Bethlehem with her faithful Joseph, and of the inconceivable things that had happened since then.
She reached a valley where the earth was grey and dry. It was the place in which Adam and Eve had settled when they were driven out of Paradise. She thought of the wayward children of our first parents, and with her mind's eye saw a dear little descendant of Adam, who was perfectly innocent, and yet had to share earth's sorrow with the guilty. The boy stood sadly by a hedge, and peeped over into the Lost Paradise. A white-robed angel standing by the Tree of Knowledge saw the child and was sorry for him. He broke off a branch from the tree, handed it over to the boy, and said: "Here is something for you out of Paradise. Plant the bough in the ground. It will take root and grow, and produce fresh seeds until the throne of the Messiah is built out of its trunk." "O, God! where is the trunk, and where is the Messiah's throne?" sighed Mary, and she moved away.
When after her tiring journey she reached the town one morning, she found the people streaming along the roads and streets in one direction. She asked the innkeeper what was happening. He replied by asking her if she did not also wish to go and see the execution.
"God forbid!" answered Mary; "happy are all who are not obliged to go."
"Look, there they come!" exclaimed the inn-keeper in glad surprise. "They'll come past here. I really believe it's the Messiah-King! Oh, I could have let out my windows for a silver groat apiece!"
The woman from Galilee wanted to go back into the house, but she was pushed aside and carried with the crowd into the narrow street, where suddenly she stood before Him! Before Jesus, her son! When He saw His mother His little remaining strength nearly forsook Him, but He managed to keep His feet. He turned to her with a look of unspeakable sadness and love, a brief look in which lay all that a son could have to say to his mother at such a meeting. Then they pushed Him on with blows and curses.
Mary stood as if turned to stone. Her eyes were tearless, her head in a whirl, her heart scarcely beat. "That is what God has prepared for me!" That was all she could think, as, unwilling, bewildered, she was carried along by the crowd. Everything seemed sunk in a blue darkness, yet stars danced before her eyes.
At length the procession emerged through the vaulted double gateway into the open. A dim, pale light lay over the barren land. The rocky hill stood out clear on the right. A great stir was there. Busy workmen were digging deep holes on the top, others were preparing the stakes for the desert robbers. Those wild creatures were already half naked, and the executioners were slinging cords round them to bind them to the wooden frame. They were the lean, brown Barabbas and the pale, sunken-eyed Dismas. The former gazed around him with his hawk's eyes, clenched his hands, and tried to burst his fetters. The other was quite broken down, and his unkempt hair hung about him. The disciples had come as far as the tower of the town walls, but had withdrawn in terror, all but John, James, and Peter. For Peter had decided to acknowledge himself a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, should it cost him his life. But no one troubled any further about the strangers. The disciples had seen Judas slinking behind the rocky mounds; he looked abject and forlorn, the very image of despair, and although their rage against the traitor had known no bounds, they were softened by the sight of the miserable creature, regarding him only as an object of horror.
Simeon carried the cross to the top of the hill. And when he laid it down and looked once again into the face of the malefactor who had staggered up beside him, he recognised the Prophet. He recognised the man with whom he had spoken in the desert concerning eternal life. He had then paid scant attention to His words, but he had forgotten none of them. Now he began to understand that whoever lived according to the teaching of this man must attain inward happiness. And was it on account of that teaching that the man was to be executed?
The captain ordered Simeon to move away. Two executioners laid hands on Jesus in order to strip away His garments. He threw one swift glance to Heaven, then closed His eyes, and calmly let them proceed. The guards seized His gown, fought for it, and because they could not agree who had won it they diced for it. Then they accused each other of cheating, and fought afresh. Up came Schobal, the dealer in old clothes, and pointed out with a grin that it was not worth while to crack their skulls over a poor wretch's old coat. The gown was torn and bloody; it was not worth a penny; but in order to end a dispute between his brave countrymen he would offer fourpence, which they could divide in peace among them. The coat was delivered over to Schobal. He went up and down in the crowd with the garment. It was the coat of the Prophet who was being executed! Who wanted a souvenir of that day? He would sell the coat for the half of its value; it might be bought for twelve pence!
A man brought long iron nails in a basket. The Nazarene was not to be tied, but nailed, because He had once said that He should descend from the cross. When they noticed that Jesus was nearly swooning, they offered Him a refreshing drink of vinegar and myrrh. He refused it with thanks, and when He began to sink down the executioners caught Him and laid Him on the cross.
Suddenly the crowd drew back. Many did not want to see what was going on. They were dumb. They had never dreamed of this. The gentleness with which He bore all the torture, the scorn, the death before His eyes, this heroic calm weighed like a mountain on their hard hearts. Those who had formerly despised Him now wanted to hate Him, but they could not. They were powerless before this overwhelming gentleness. What a sound! That of a hammer beating on iron! "How the blood spurts!" whispered someone. Two hammers hit the nails, and at each blow heaven and earth trembled. The crowd held its breath, and not a sound was heard from the town. Nothing but the ringing of the hammer. Then suddenly a heartrending cry was heard in the crowd. It came from a strange woman who had pushed through it and sank to the ground. The mass of people drew away more and more, no one would stand in front, yet each stretched his neck so as to see over the others' heads. They saw the stake lifted up and then sink again. The captain's orders could be heard plainly and clearly. Then the cross stood up straight. At first the long stake was seen above their heads, bearing a white placard. Then the cross-beams appeared on which trembling human arms were seen, then the head moving in agonising pain. Thus did the cross with the naked human body rise in the air. Slowly it rose, supported by poles, and as soon as it stood straight the foot of the cross was set so roughly in its hole that the body shook with a dull groan. The wounds made by the nails in the hands and feet were torn open, the blood ran in dark streams over the white body, down the stake, and dropped on the ground. And from the lips of Him on the cross this loud cry was heard, "O, Father, forgive them, forgive them! For they know not what they do."
A strange murmur arose in the crowd, and those who had not understood the cry asked their neighbours to repeat it. "He asks pardon for His enemies? For His enemies? He is praying for His enemies?"
"Then—then He cannot be human!"
"He forgives those who despised, slandered, scorned, beat, crucified Him? When dying He thinks of His enemies and pardons them? Then it is as He said, He is indeed the Christ! I always thought He was the Christ. I said so only last Sabbath!" The voices grew louder. Schobal, the old clothes dealer, pushed about in the crowd and offered the Messiah's coat for twenty pence.
"If He is the Messiah," shouted a Rabbi hoarsely, "let Him free Himself. He who wants to help others and cannot help Himself is a poor sort of Messiah."
"Now, Master," exclaimed a Pharisee, "if you would rebuild the shattered Temple, now's the time. Come down from the cross, and we'll believe in you." The man on the cross looked at the two mockers in deep sadness, and they became silent. Suddenly a passage in the Scriptures flashed into their minds: "He was wounded for our transgressions!"
When they had all drawn back from the cross, and the executioners were preparing to raise up the two desert robbers, the woman who had swooned, supported by the disciple John, tottered up to the tall cross and put her arms round its trunk so that the blood ran down upon her. So infinite was her pain that it seemed as if seven swords had pierced her heart. Jesus looked down, and how muffled was the voice in which He said: "John, take care of My mother! Mother, here is John, your son!"
A murmur arose in the crowd: "His mother? Is that His mother? Oh, poor things! And the handsome young man His brother? The poor creatures! Look how He turns to them as if He would comfort them."
Many a man passed his hand over his eyes, the women sobbed aloud. And a dull lamentation began to go through the people—the same people who had so angrily demanded His death. And they talked together.
"He can't suffer much longer."
"No, I've had some experience. I've been here every Passover. But this time——"
"If I only knew what is written on the tablet."
"Over His head? My sight seems to have gone."
"Inri!" exclaimed somebody,
"Inri! Somebody calls out 'Inri.'"
"Those are the letters on the tablet."
"But the man's name's not Inri."
"Something quite different, my friend. That is Pilate's joke. Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judaeorum."
"Don't talk to me in that accursed Latin tongue."
"In good Hebrew: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."
"Now, they've got Him in the middle," said another, for the two robbers had been hoisted up to the right and left of Him. The one on the left stretched out his neck, and mocked at Jesus with a distorted face: "I suppose, neighbour, that you too are one of those who get executed just because they are weaklings. Jump from the cross, rush among them, and the wretches will idolise you!"
Jesus did not answer him. He turned His head towards the man who hung on His right who saw the moment approaching when his legs would be broken. In the agony of death, and in penitence for his ill-spent life, he turned to Him whom they called Messiah and Christ. And when he saw the expression with which Jesus looked at him, a curious shudder passed through the criminal's heart. How the man on the cross gazed at him, with His fading eyes—My God!—it was the never-to-be-forgotten holy look which a little child had given him in the days of his youth. Dismas began to weep, and said: "Lord, you are from heaven! When you return home, remember me."
And Jesus said to him: "There is mercy for all who repent! To-day, Dismas, you and I will be together at the Heavenly Father's home."
"He is from heaven!" was heard in the crowd. "He is from heaven!" One of the Roman soldiers threw his spear away, and exclaimed in immense excitement: "Verily, He is the Son of God!"
"The Son of God! The Son of God! Set Him free! It is the Son of God who hangs on the cross!" The cry rolled through the crowd like the dull noise of an avalanche; like a shriek of terror, like the inward consciousness of a fearful mistake, the most fearful that had been made since the world began. He who hangs yonder on the cross is the Son of God. Far below in a cleft of the rock is a poor sinner. He struggles up to his feet, holding on with his lean hands, he looks up to the cross with rolling eyes. A prayer for mercy wells up from his heart like a bloody spring. And beside him a woman kneels and folds her hands against the cross. And she who thus stands under the cross wrings her hands, and implores mercy for her child.
The letters I.N.R.I, over the cross begin to gleam. And a voice is heard in the air: "Jesus Near Redeems Ill-doers."
"The Son of God! The Son of God!" The cry went on without ceasing. "The Son of God on the cross!"
"The Son of God's coat! A hundred gold pieces for the coat!" shrieked old Schobal, lifting the garment up on a stick like a flag. The dealer swore by that flag, for its value had risen a thousandfold in an hour. "A hundred gold pieces for the Son of God's coat!" But it was high time that the dealer made himself scarce, for the people of Jerusalem were enraged at a man who wanted to do business in presence of the dying Saviour. The good, pious citizens of Jerusalem!
Not a High Priest was to be seen. They had all gone away. The hoarse-voiced Rabbi was still there, reciting Psalms aloud to the dying man.
"Stop that!" someone shouted at him. "You killed Him."
"We've killed Him? Who do you mean?" asked the Rabbi with well-feigned innocence.
"Why you, you expounders of the Scriptures, you brought Him to His death; it was you, and you alone!"
The Rabbi replied very seriously: "Think, my friend, what you are saying. Can you prove this charge before the dread Jehovah? We expounders of the Law brought Him to His death! Every one knows who condemned Him. It was the foreigners. They have ever been the ruin of our nation! Every one knows who crucified Him at the desire of the people."
It was high time that he should defend himself. The voices grew ever louder: It was the High Priests who had goaded on the people and judges! They are guilty——
"Silence! He still lives!"
All looks were centred on the cross.
Jesus turned His head to the crowd and muttered in His weakness: "I am thirsty! I am thirsty!"
The captain ordered a sponge to be dipped in vinegar, and reached up to Him on a stick so that the dying man might sip the moisture.
A young woman with her hair flowing loose lay among the rocks. She kneeled, and, supporting her elbows on the ground, wailed softly: "O Saviour, Saviour! My sins!"
He looked once again at His dear ones. Then He lifted His head quickly and uttered a cry to Heaven: "Father, receive My soul! My Father! Do not forsake Me!" He looked upwards, gazed at the heavens with wide-opened eyes, then His head dropped and fell on His breast.
John sank to the ground, covering his face with his hands. All was over!
The crowd was almost motionless. They stood and stared, and their faces were white. The town walls were dun-coloured, the shrubs were grey, the young buds were pale and closed.
A lustreless sun stood in the sky like a moon, and its shadows were ghostly. Terrified rooks and bats flew around, and hovered about the cross in this horrible twilight. Rocks on the hills broke away, and skulls rolled down the slope. As for the people, they seemed to have lost the power of speech, they stood dumb and looked at one another.
"Something has happened," said an old man to himself.
The crowd began to move, uncertainly at first, then with more animation and noise.
"What has happened?" asked a bystander.
"My friend, what has happened now has thrown the world off its balance. I do not know what it is, but it has thrown the world off its balance. If it is not the end of the world, then it must be its beginning."
"Inri! Inri!" shouted the voice of a shuddering lunatic.
Then there was a general shout. "What is it? It is dark! I've never been so terrified in all my days."
"Look at the cross! It's growing longer! Higher, ever higher, higher! I can't see the top of it! It's a giant cross!"
Then came news. "A pillar has fallen in the Temple. The curtain of the Holy of Holies has been rent in twain. Outside, in the cemetery, the tombs have opened and the dead wrapped in their white shrouds have risen from them."
"The end of the world!"
"The beginning of the world!"
"Jesus Christ!"
"JESUS CHRIST!" rustles through the crowd like the spring breezes over the desert. The words sound through the whole of Jerusalem, they sound throughout the broad land of Judaea, these words of all power. They kindle a fire which has lighted up the universe until the present day.
His dear and faithful ones assembled at the cross where the dead Master hung. There are more of them than there were yesterday, among them even some who had shouted in the night: "Crucify Him!" The disciples stood there silent, making no lamentation. Mary, the mother, stood by John's side, and Magdalen by him. A marvellous quiet had come over their hearts, so that they asked themselves:
"How can this be? Is not our Jesus dead?"
"My brothers," said Peter, "for me it is as if He still lives."
"He in us, and we in Him," said John.
Only Bartholomew was restless. Hesitatingly he asked James if he had not also understood Him to say: "Father, do not forsake Me." But James was thinking of another word and of another of the brothers. He went away from the cross to seek out Judas. He would tell him that in dying the Master had forgiven His enemies, he would tell Judas of the Saviour's legacy: Mercy for sinners!
Since the early hours of the morning when the Master had been condemned to death in the Governor's house, Judas had wandered aimlessly about. He tried to surrender himself to the captain as a false witness and a spy, as one who sold men for gold. He was laughed at and left alone. Then he went to one of the High Priests to swear that his statements had not been so meant; that his Master was no evil-doer, but rather the Messenger of God, who would destroy His enemies. He had not intended to betray Him, and he would return the traitor's pay to the Pharisee. The latter shrugged his shoulders, saying that it was no concern of his; he had given no money and would receive none. Then Judas threw the silver pieces at his feet and hurried away. His long hair waved in the wind. He slunk along behind the town walls in order to get in advance of the procession and let himself be impaled at Golgotha instead of the Master. But he was too late; he heard the strokes of the hammer. He went down into the valley of Kedron. Not a soul was to be seen there, every one had gone to the place of execution. Judas was thrown aside, even by the gaping crowd, abandoned as a traitor. Frightful, inconceivable, was the thing he had done! Alas! why had He not revealed Himself? He stood patiently, gentle as a lamb before the judges, and bore the cross as no one had ever done before. Could that be it after all? Not to strive against one's enemies, to suffer one's fate as the will of God, to lay down one's life for the tidings of the Father—was that glory the mission of the Messiah? "And I? I expected something else of Him. And I made a mistake, greater than all the mistakes of all the fools put together. And now I am thrust out of the fellowship of righteous men, and thrust out of the fellowship of sinners. There is pardon for the murderer, but not for the traitor. He Himself said: Better that such a man had never been born. Others dare to atone for their sins in caves of the desert, dare to expiate their crimes with their blood—but I am cast out of all Love and all expiation for ever and ever." Such were the endless laments of Judas. He wandered to and fro behind walls and among bushes; he hid himself in caves all the day long. Then suddenly it flashed on him: "It is unjust. I believed in Him. I believed in Him so implicitly. Is such trust thrown away? Can the Divine Man cast aside such a trust? No, it is not so, it is not so!"
His fate was decided by this shattering of his last hope. When it was dark he slunk past a farm. Ropes hung over the walls; he pulled one off and hurried to the mountain. The sun was setting behind Jerusalem, over the heights, like a huge, red, lustreless pane of glass. Once more for the last time his eye sought the light, the departing light. And a cross stood out large and dark against the red circle; the tall cross at Golgotha right in the centre of the gloomy sun. Gigantic and dark it towered against the crimson background—horrible! The despairing heart of Judas could not endure it. With a savage curse he went up to a fig-tree. James was behind him. He had seen Judas climb the slope, had waved his cloak and cried to him: "It is I, James. Brother, I come from the Master. Listen, brother, mercy for sinners. Mercy for all who repent. Listen." Almost breathless he reached the fig-tree. Arms and legs hung down lifeless, the mouth drawn in, the tongue protruding from the lips. The body swung to and fro in the evening breeze. The wretched man had not waited for the Saviour's pardon.
Towards the end of that same day the old man of the East, who came from the desert where great thoughts dwell, the weary old man who called down twice the curse of everlasting unrest on the grandson of Uriah, went to a stonecutter in Jerusalem. He thought it time to order his tombstone. And on it were to be cut the letters "I.N.R.I."
"Did you also belong to the Nazarene?" asked the stonecutter.
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because it is the inscription on His cross."
"It is the inscription on my grave," said the old man, "and it means: 'IN NIRVANA REST I.'"