Jesus the Son of Man

  To Him the root of a buttercup was a longing towards God, while to us it

  is naught but a root.

  URIAH

  AN OLD MAN OF NAZARETH

  HE WAS A STRANGER IN OUR MIDST, AND HIS LIFE WAS

  hidden with dark veils.

  He walked not the path of our God, but followed the course of the foul

  and the infamous.

  His childhood revolted, and rejected the sweet milk of our nature.

  His youth was inflamed like dry grass that burns in the night.

  And when He became man, He took arms against us all.

  Such men are conceived in the ebb tide of human kindness, and born in

  unholy tempests. And in tempests they live a day and then perish forever.

  Do you not remember Him, a boy overweening, who would argue with our

  learned elders, and laugh at their dignity?

  And remember you not His youth, when He lived by the saw and the chisel?

  He would not accompany our sons and daughters on their holidays. He would

  walk alone.

  And He would not return the salutation of those who hailed Him, as though

  He were above us.

  I myself met Him once in the field and greeted Him, and He only smiled,

  and in His smile I beheld arrogance and insult.

  Not long afterward my daughter went with her companions to the vineyards

  to gather the grapes, and she too spoke to Him and He did not answer her.

  He spoke only to the whole company of grape-gatherers, as if my daughter

  had not been among them.

  When He abandoned His people and turned vagabond He became naught but a

  babbler. His voice was like a claw in our flesh, and the sound of His

  voice is still a pain in our memory.

  He would utter only evil of us and of our fathers and forefathers. And

  His tongue sought our bosoms like a poisoned arrow.

  Such was Jesus.

  If He had been my son, I would have committed Him with the Roman legions

  to Arabia, and I would have begged the captain to place Him in the

  forefront of the battle, so that the archer of the foe might mark Him,

  and free me of His insolence.

  But I have no son. And mayhap I should be grateful. For what if my son

  had been an enemy of his own people, and my gray hairs were now seeking

  the dust with shame, my white beard humbled?

  NICODEMUS THE POET

  THE YOUNGEST OF THE ELDERS

  IN THE SANHEDRIM

  MANY ARE THE FOOLS WHO SAY THAT JESUS stood in His own path and opposed

  Himself; that He knew not His own mind, and in the absence of that

  knowledge confounded Himself.

  Many indeed are the owls who know no song unlike their own hooting.

  You and I know the jugglers of words who would honor only a greater

  juggler, men who carry their heads in baskets to the market-place and

  sell them to the first bidder.

  We know the pygmies who abuse the sky-man. And we know what the weed

  would say of the oak tree and the cedar.

  I pity them that they cannot rise to the heights.

  I pity the shrivelling thorn envying the elm that dares the seasons.

  But pity, though enfolded by the regret of all the angels, can bring them

  no light.

  I know the scarecrow whose rotting garments flutter in the corn, yet he

  himself is dead to the corn and to the singing wind.

  I know the wingless spider that weaves a net for all who fly.

  I know the crafty, the blowers of horns and the beaters of drums, who in

  the abundance of their own noise cannot hear the skylark nor the east

  wind in the forest.

  I know him who paddles against all streams, but never finds the source,

  who runs with all rivers, but never dares to the sea.

  I know him who offers his unskilled hands to the builder of the temple,

  and when his unskilled hands are rejected, says in the darkness of his

  heart,

  I will destroy all that shall be builded."

  I know all these. They are the men who object that Jesus said on a

  certain day, "I bring peace unto you," and on another day, "I bring a

  sword."

  They cannot understand that in truth he said, "I bring peace unto men of

  goodwill, and I lay a sword between him who would peace and him who would

  a sword."

  They wonder that He who said, "My kingdom is not of this earth," said

  also, "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's "; and know not that if

  they would indeed be free to enter the kingdom of their passion, they

  must not resist the gate-keeper of their necessities. It behooves them

  gladly to pay that dole to enter into that city.

  "These are the men who say, "He preached tenderness and kindliness and

  filial love, yet He would not heed His mother and His brothers when they

  sought Him in the streets of Jerusalem."

  They do not know that His mother and brothers in their loving fear would

  have had Him return to the bench of the carpenter, whereas He was opening

  our eyes to the dawn of a new day.

  His mother and His brothers would have had Him live in the shadow of

  death, but He Himself was challenging death upon yonder hill that He

  might live in our sleepless memory.

  I know these moles that dig paths to nowhere. Are they not the ones who

  accuse Jesus of glorifying Himself in that He said to the multitude, "I

  am the path and the gate to salvation," and even called Himself the life

  and the resurrection.

  But Jesus was not claiming more than the month of May claims in her high

  tide.

  Was He not to tell the shining truth because it was so shining?

  He indeed said that He was the way and the life and the resurrection of

  the heart; and I myself am a testimony to His truth.

  Do you not remember me, Nicodemus, who believed in naught but the laws

  and decrees and was in continual subjection to observances?

  And behold me now, a man who walks with life and laughs with the sun from

  the first moment it smiles upon the mountain until it yields itself to

  bed behind the hills.

  Why do you halt before the word salvation? I myself through Him have

  attained my salvation.

  I care not for what shall befall me tomorrow, for I know that Jesus

  quickened my sleep and made my distant dreams my companions and my

  roadfellows.

  Am I less man because I believe in a greater man?

  The barriers of flesh and bone fell down when the Poet of Galilee spoke

  to me; and I was held by a spirit, and was lifted to the heights, and in

  midair my wings gathered the song of passion.

  And when I dismounted from the wind and in the Sanhedrim my pinions were

  shorn, even then my ribs, my featherless wings, kept and guarded the

  song. And all the poverties of the lowlands cannot rob me of my treasure.

  I have said enough. Let the deaf bury the humming of life in their dead

  ears. I am content with the sound of His lyre, which He held and struck

  while the hands of His body were nailed and bleeding.

  JOSEPH OF ARIMATMEA

  TEN YEARS AFTER

  HERE WERE TWO STREAMS RUNNING IN THE heart of the Nazarene: the stream of

  kinship to God whom He called Father, and the stream of rapture which He

  called the kingdom of the Above-world.

  And in my solitude I thought of Him and I f
ollowed these two streams in

  His heart. Upon the banks of the one I met my own soul; and sometimes my

  soul was a beggar and a wanderer, and sometimes it was a princess in her

  garden.

  Then I followed the other stream in His heart, and on my way I met one

  who had been beaten and robbed of his gold, and he was smiling. And

  farther on I saw the robber who had robbed him, and there were unshed

  tears upon his face.

  Then I heard the murmur of these two streams in my own bosom also, and I

  was gladdened.

  When I visited Jesus the day before Pontius Pilatus and the elders laid

  hands on Him, we talked long, and I asked Him many questions, and He

  answered my questionings with graciousness; and when I left Him I knew He

  was the Lord and Master of this our earth.

  It is long since the cedar tree has fallen, but its fragrance endures,

  and will forever seek the four corners of the earth.

  GEORGUS OF BEIRUT

  HE AND HIS FRIENDS WERE IN THE GROVE of pines beyond my hedge, and He was

  talking to them.

  I stood near the hedge and listened. And I knew who He was, for His fame

  had reached these shores ere He Himself visited them.

  When He ceased speaking I approached Him, and I said, "Sir, come with

  these men and honor me and my roof."

  And He smiled upon me and said, "Not this day, my friend. Not this day."

  And there was a blessing in His words, and His voice enfolded me like a

  garment on a cold night.

  Then He turned to His friends and said, "Behold a man who deems us not

  strangers, and though He has not seen us ere this day, he bids us to His

  threshold.

  "Verily in my kingdom there are no strangers. Our life is but the life of

  all other men, given us that we may know all men, and in that knowledge

  love them.

  "The deeds of all men are but our deeds, both the hidden and the

  revealed.

  "I charge you not to be one self but rather many selves, the householder

  and the homeless, the ploughman and the sparrow that picks the grain ere

  it slumber in the earth, the giver who gives in gratitude, and the

  receiver who receives in pride and recognition.

  "The beauty of the day is not only in what you see, but in what other men

  see.

  "For this I have chosen you from among the many who have chosen me."

  Then He turned to me again and smiled and said, "I say these things to

  you also, and you also shall remember them."

  Then I entreated Him and said, "Master, will you not visit in my house?"

  And He answered, "I know your heart, and I have visited your larger

  house."

  And as He walked away with His disciples He said, "Good-night, and may

  your house be large enough to shelter all the wanderers of the land."

  MARY MAGDALEN

  HIS MOUTH WAS LIKE THE HEART OF A POMEGRANATE,

  and the shadows in His eyes were deep.

  And He was gentle, like a man mindful of his own strength.

  In my dreams I beheld the kings of the earth standing in awe in His

  presence.

  I would speak of His face, but how shall I?

  It was like night without darkness, and like day without the noise of

  day.

  It was a sad face, and it was a joyous face.

  And well I remember how once He raised His hand towards the sky, and His

  parted fingers were like the branches of an elm.

  And I remember Him pacing the evening. He was not walking. He Himself was

  a road above the road; even as a cloud above the earth that would descend

  to refresh the earth.

  But when I stood before Him and spoke to Him, He was a man, and His face

  was powerful to behold. And He said to me, "What would you, Miriam?"

  I did not answer Him, but my wings enfolded my secret, and I was made

  warm.

  And because I could bear His light no more, I turned and walked away, but

  not in shame. I was only shy, and I would be alone, with His fingers upon

  the strings of my heart.

  JOTHAM OF NAZARETH

  TO A ROMAN

  MY FRIEND, YOU LIKE ALL OTHER ROMANS would conceive life rather than live

  it. You would rule lands rather than be ruled by the spirit.

  You would conquer races and be cursed by them rather than stay in Rome

  and be blest and happy

  You think but of armies marching and of ships launched into the sea.

  How shall you then understand Jesus of Nazareth, a man simple and alone,

  who came without armies or ships, to establish a kingdom in the heart and

  an empire in the free spaces of the soul?

  How shall you understand this man who was not a warrior, but who came

  with the power of the mighty ether?

  He was not a god, He was a man like unto ourselves; but in Him the myrrh

  of the earth rose to meet the frankincense of the sky; and in His words

  our lisping embraced the whispering of the unseen; and in His voice we

  heard a song unfathomable.

  Aye, Jesus was a man and not a god, and therein lies our wonder and our

  surprise.

  But you Romans wonder not save at the gods, and no man shall surprise

  you. Therefore you understand not the Nazarene.

  He belonged to the youth of the mind and you belong to its old age.

  You govern us today; but let us wait another day.

  Who knows but that this man with neither armies nor ships shall govern

  tomorrow?

  We who follow the spirit shall sweat blood while journeying after Him.

  But Rome shall lie a white skeleton in the sun.

  We shall suffer much, yet we shall endure and we shall live. But Rome

  must needs fall into the dust.

  Yet if Rome, when humbled and made low, shall pronounce His name, He will

  heed her voice. And He will breathe new life into her bones that she may

  rise again, a city among the cities of the earth.

  But this He shall do without legions, nor with slaves to oar His galleys.

  He will be alone.

  EPHRAIM OF JERICHO

  WHEN HE CAME AGAIN TO JERICHO sought Him out and said to Him, "Master, on

  the morrow my son will take a wife. I beg you come to the wedding-feast

  and do us honor, even as you honored the wedding at Cana of Galilee."

  And He answered, "It is true that I was once a guest at a wedding-feast,

  but I shall not be a guest again. I am myself now the Bridegroom."

  And I said, "I entreat you, Master, come to the wedding-feast of my son."

  And He smiled as though He would rebuke me, and said, "Why Go you entreat

  me? Have you not wine enough?"

  And I said, "My jugs are full, Master; yet I beseech you, come to my

  son's wedding-feast."

  Then He said, "Who knows? I may come, I may surely come, if your heart is

  an altar in your temple."

  Upon the morrow my son was married, but Jesus came not to the

  wedding-feast. And though we had many guests, I felt that no one had

  come.

  In very truth, I myself who welcomed the guests, was not there.

  Perhaps my heart had not been an altar when I invited Him. Perhaps I

  desired another miracle.

  BARCA

  A MERCHANT OF TYRE

  I BELIEVE THAT NEITHER THE ROMANS NOR THE JEWS

  understood Jesus of Nazareth, nor did His disciples who n
ow preach His

  name.

  The Romans slew Him and that was a blunder. The Galileans would make a

  god of Him and that is a mistake.

  Jesus was of the heart of man.

  I have sailed the Seven Seas with my ships, and bartered with kings and

  princes and with cheats and the wily in the market-places of distant

  cities; but never have I seen a man who understood merchants as He did.

  I heard Him once tell this parable:

  "A merchant left his country for a foreign land. He had two servants, and

  he gave each a handful of gold, saying: 'Even as I go abroad, you also

  shall go forth and seek profit. Make just exchange, and see that you

  serve in giving and taking.'

  And after a year the merchant returned.

  And he asked his two servants what they had done with his gold.

  "The first servant said, 'Behold, Master, I have bought and sold, and I

  have gained.'

  "And the merchant answered, 'The gain shall be yours, for you have done

  well, and have been faithful to me and to yourself.'

  "Then the other servant stood forth and said, "Sir, I feared the loss of

  your money; and I did not buy nor sell. Behold, it is all here in this

  purse.'

  "And the merchant took the gold, and said, 'Little is your faith. To

  barter and lose is better than not to go forth. For even as the wind

  scatters her seed and waits for the fruit, so must all merchants. It were

  fitter for you henceforth to serve others.'"

  When Jesus spoke thus, though He was no merchant, He disclosed the secret

  of commerce.

  Moreover, His parables often brought to my mind lands more distant than

  my journeys, and yet nearer than my house and my goods.

  But the young Nazarene was not a god; and it is a pity His followers seek

  to make a god of such a sage.

  PHUMIAH

  THE HIGH PRIESTESS OF SIDON

  TO THE OTHER PRIESTESSES

  TAKE YOUR HARPS AND LET ME SING.

  Beat your strings, the silver and the gold;

  For I would sing the dauntless Man

  Who slew the dragon of the valley,

  Then gazed down with pity

  Upon the thing He had slain.

  Take your harps and sing with me

  The lofty Oak upon the height,

  The sky-hearted and the ocean-handed Man,

  Who kissed the pallid lips of death,

  Yet quivers now upon the mouth of life.

  Take your harps and let us sing

  The fearless Hunter on the hill,

  Who marked the beast, and shot His viewless arrow,

  And brought the horn and tusk

  Down to the earth.

  Take your harps and sing with me

  The valiant Youth who conquered the mountain cities,

  And the cities of the plain that coiled like serpents in the sand.

  He fought not against pygmies but against gods

  Who hungered for our flesh and thirsted for our blood.

  And like the first Golden Hawk

  He would rival only eagles;

  For His wings were vast and proud

  And would not outwing the less winged.

  Take your harps and sing with me

  The joyous song of sea and cliff.

  The gods are dead,

  And they are lying still

  In the forgotten isle of a forgotten sea.

  And He who slew them sits upon His throne.

  He was but a youth.

  Spring had not yet given Him full beard,

  And His summer was still young in His field.

  Take your harps and sing with me

  The tempest in the forest

  That breaks the dry branch and the leafless twig,

  Yet sends the living root to nestle deeper at the breast of earth.

  Take your harps and sing with me