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

by Peter Rosegger

After the act of baptism was accomplished, Jesus wandered for a long, long while—indeed, he paid no heed to time—along the banks of Jordan. Then he climbed the rocks, and when in the twilight he came to himself again and looked about, he saw that he was in the wilderness. The revelation vouchsafed at his baptism had snatched him from the earth. In that mysterious vision he had opened to him the new path which he had chosen to follow. What eternal peace surrounded him. Yet he was not alone among the barren rocks; never in his life had he been less lonely than here in the dim terrors of the wilderness. A deep silence prevailed. The stars in the sky sparkled and sparkled, and the longer he gazed at them the more ardently they seemed to burn. Gradually they seemed to sink downwards, and to become suns, while fresh legions pressed ever forward from the background, flying down unceasingly, the large and the small and the smallest, with new ones ever welling up from space—an inexhaustible source of heavenly light.

Jesus stood up erect. And when he lifted up his face it seemed as if his eye was the nucleus of all light.

So he forgot the world and remained in the wilderness. Each day he penetrated deeper into it, past abysses and roaring beasts. The stones tore his feet, but he marked it not; snakes stung his heels, but he noticed it not. Whence did he obtain nourishment? What cleft in the rocks afforded him shelter?—that is immaterial to him who lives in God. Once he had regarded the world and its powers as hard taskmasters, and now they seemed to him to be as nothing, for in him and with him was eternal strength. The old traditional Jehovah of Jewish hearts was no more; his was the all-embracing One, who carried the heavens and the earth in his hand, who called to the children of men: Return! and who stooped down to every seedling in order to awaken it. He himself became conscious of God—and after that, what could befall him?

One day he descended between the rocky stones to the coast of the Dead Sea that lay dark and still, little foam-tipped waves breaking on the shore. The expanse of water was lost in darkness in the distance, and stretched away heavy and lifeless. Cleft blocks of stone were scattered along the beach, and their tops glowed as red as iron in the forge. It was the hour of sunset. The towering stones stood like giant torches, and the bright colour was reflected on the bare pebbles on which the water lapped. For many thousands of years the fine yellow sand had drifted down from the walls of rock, and lay over the wide sloping plains of the shore. It was like dry, light "stone-snow," and Jesus, who strode over it, left his footprints in it. The next gust of wind disturbed it, the "stone-snow" was whirled about, and the dark stones were laid bare. Men are engulfed in those sand-fields, which, broken by blocks of stone, stretch away into infinity. Witness the bones which may be seen here and there, remains of dead beasts, and also legs and skulls of men who perished as hermits, or became the prey of lions. Such skulls with their grinning teeth, warned the traveller to turn back as he valued his life. Here is death! Jesus laid his hands over his breast. Here is life! The greater the loneliness, the more keenly may the nearness of God be realised.

Jesus preferred the rocky heights to the plain. He could see the wide expanse of the sky, and the clouds which wandered over its face and then disappeared like nations of nomads.

One day, in such a spot, he met an Arab chief. He was of gigantic stature, dressed in the dark cloak of the Bedouins, with a wild, grey beard, and a snub nose in a bony face. Beneath bushy eyebrows were a pair of unsteady eyes. His belt was full of weapons, his head was adorned with an iron band which kept his wild hair in some sort of order. The man looked at the young hermit not unkindly and called him a worm who should pray that he might be mercifully trodden under foot. He must either swear allegiance to the desert chief, or be burned up by the hot stones.

Jesus scarcely heeded the impertinent speech. He only saw in the stranger a man on whom he would like to bestow all the happiness that was triumphant in his soul. So full of love was he that he could not bear it alone. And he said: "I am no worm to be trodden under foot. I am that Son of Man who brings you the new kingdom."

"Ah! the Messiah! Jesus of Nazareth, are you not? I have heard of you. Where are your soldiers?"

"I shall not conquer with the sword, but with the spirit."

The Arab shook his head mockingly. "Who will conquer with the spirit! Well, I won't play the scoffer. You are an orator, and that's something. Listen, son of man; I like you. I, too, desire the new kingdom; let us go together."