to bid them see, not with their eyes but with His vision.
Jesus was the beginning of a new kingdom upon the earth, and that kingdom shall remain.
He was the son and the grandson of all the kings who builded the kingdom of the spirit.
And only the kings of spirit have ruled our world.
Zacchaeus
You believe in what you hear said. Believe in the unsaid, for the silence of men is nearer the truth than their words.
You ask if Jesus could have escaped His shameful death and saved His followers from persecution.
I answer: He could indeed have escaped had He chosen, but He did not seek safety nor was He mindful of protecting His flock from wolves of the night.
He knew His fate and the morrow of His constant lovers. He foretold and prophesied what should befall every one of us. He sought not His death; but He accepted death as a husbandman shrouding his corn with earth, accepts the winter, and then awaits the spring and harvest; and as a builder lays the largest stone in the foundation.
We were men of Galilee and from the slopes of Lebanon. Our Master could have led us back to our country, to live with His youth in our gardens until old age should come and whisper us back into the years.
Was anything barring His path back to the temples of our villages where others were reading the prophets and then disclosing their hearts?
Could He not have said, “Now I go east with the west wind,” and so saying dismiss us with a smile upon His lips?
Aye, He could have said: “Go back to your kin. The world is not ready for me. I shall return a thousand years hence. Teach your children to await my return.”
He could have done this had He so chosen.
But He knew that to build the temple invisible He must needs lay Himself the cornerstone, and lay us around as little pebbles cemented close to Himself.
He knew that the sap of His tree must rise from its roots, and He poured His blood upon its roots; and to Him it was not sacrifice but rather gain.
Death is the revealer. The death of Jesus revealed His life.
Had He escaped you and His enemies, you would have been the conquerors of the world. Therefore He did not escape.
Only He who desires all shall give all.
Aye, Jesus could have escaped His enemies and lived to old age. But He knew the passing of the seasons, and He would sing His song.
What man facing the armèd world would not be conquered for the moment that he might overcome the ages?
And now you ask who, in very truth, slew Jesus, the Romans or the priests of Jerusalem?
Neither the Romans slew Him, nor the priests. The whole world stood to honour Him upon that hill.
Jonathan
Upon a day my belovèd and I were rowing upon the lake of sweet waters. And the hills of Lebanon were about us.
We moved beside the weeping willows, and the reflections of the willows were deep around us.
And while I steered the boat with an oar, my belovèd took her lute and sang thus:
What flower save the lotus knows the waters and the sun?
What heart save the lotus heart shall know both earth and sky?
Behold my love, the golden flower that floats ’twixt deep and high
Even as you and I float betwixt a love that has forever been
And shall forever be.
Dip your oar, my love,
And let me touch my strings.
Let us follow the willows, and let us leave not the water-lilies.
In Nazareth there lives a Poet, and His heart is like the lotus.
He has visited the soul of woman,
He knows her thirst is growing out of the waters,
And her hunger for the sun, though all her lips are fed.
They say He walks in Galilee.
I say He is rowing with us.
Can you not see His face, my love?
Can you not see, where the willow bough and its reflection meet,
He is moving as we move?
Belovèd, it is good to know the youth of life.
It is good to know its singing joy.
Would that you might always have the oar,
And I my stringèd lute,
Where the lotus laughs in the sun,
And the willow is dipping to the waters,
And His voice is upon my strings.
Dip your oar, my belovèd,
And let me touch my strings.
There is a Poet in Nazareth
Who knows and loves us both.
Dip your oar, my lover,
And let me touch my strings.
Hannah of Bethsaida
The Year 73
The sister of my father had left us in her youth to dwell in a hut beside her father’s ancient vineyard.
She lived alone, and the people of the countryside sought her in their maladies, and she healed them with green herbs, and with roots and flowers dried in the sun.
And they deemed her a seeress; but there were those also who called her witch and sorceress.
One day my father said to me: “Take these loaves of wheaten bread to my sister, and take this jug of wine and this basket of raisins.”
And it was all put upon the back of a colt, and I followed the road until I reached the vineyard, and the hut of my father’s sister. And she was gladdened.
Now as we sat together in the cool of the day, a man came by upon the road, and He greeted the sister of my father, saying: “Good-even to you, and the blessing of the night be upon you.”
Then she rose up; and she stood as in awe before Him and said: “Good-even to you, master of all good spirits, and conqueror of all evil spirits.”
The man looked at her with tender eyes, and then He passed on by.
But I laughed in my heart. Methought my father’s sister was mad. But now I know that she was not mad. It was I who did not understand.
She knew of my laughter, though it was hidden.
And she spoke, but
