“For I say to you”—Jesus’ voice rose now so that His detractors could not fail to hear— “that unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.”
He paused and looked around Him at the faces of the Twelve sitting at His feet amid the ruins of the city which had once occupied this commanding hilltop. No one listening could fail to understand that He was denouncing the false righteousness of the Pharisees.
“You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder, and whosoever murders will be in danger of the judgment,’” He said, pursuing a new line of thought. “But I say to you that whoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment. And whoever shall say, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of hell-fire. Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.
“You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that whoever looks at a woman to lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and cast it from you; for it is more profitable for you that one of your members perish, than for your whole body to be cast into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you; for it is more profitable for you that one of your members should perish, than for your whole body to be cast into hell.”
The crowd was hushed under the hypnotic spell of His voice as He continued to speak.
“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him als0. If anyone wants to sue you and take away your tunic, let him have your cloak also. And whoever compels you to go one mile, go with him two.”
The reference was to a Roman law which required civilians to carry baggage and supplies whenever the legions were on the march, but no man could be forced to carry this burden more than a mile. This law had always been a source of resentment to the Jews who prided themselves on being slaves to no man. Now Jesus was telling them to humble themselves and go another mile, a truly astonishing thing for a Jew and a command any man would find it hard to obey without resentment.
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy,’” Jesus continued, taking no notice of the murmur of anger that came from the crowd. “But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who despitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brethren only, what do you do more than others? Do not even the tax collectors do so? Love your enemies and do good to them and lend, hoping for nothing again. Your reward shall then be great and you shall be sons of the Most High, for He is kind toward the unthankful and evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”
On the slope below, people were beginning to grumble. As they saw it, the doctrine Jesus was now teaching laid upon them a burden fully as heavy as the Pharisees’ interpretations of the Law. But Jesus continued.
“Be perfect therefore as your Father in heaven is perfect. Take heed that you do not your righteousness before men to be seen by them. Else you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven. And when you do your alms, do not sound a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogue and in the streets that they may have glory of men. But when you do alms, let not your left hand know what your right hand does, so your alms will be in secret and your Father who sees in secret Himself, will reward you openly.
“And when you pray, be not as the hypocrites are, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men. When you pray, enter into your closet and when you have shut the door, pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.
“When you pray do not use vain repetitions, as the heathen do, for they think they shall be heard for their much speaking. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what things you need before you ask Him. Pray therefore after this manner:
“Our Father who is in heaven,
Hallowed be Your name,
Your Kingdom come,
Your will be done,
In earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,
For Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.”
His voice softened as He explained the prayer. “If you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will forgive your trespasses. Judge not and you shall not be judged. Condemn not and you shall not be condemned. Forgive and you shall be forgiven. Give and it shall be given unto you, good measure, pressed down and running over shall men give. For with the same measure that you mete, it shall be measured to you again.”
Once more He had laid a heavy burden upon those who would obey Him. They must be the first to forgive, but in the nature of man that was hard to do. Jesus understood this because He was a man like them and tempted as they were, so He now spoke a parable to make His meaning clear.
“As you would that men should do to you, do you also to them likewise,” He said, putting man’s whole duty to God into one simple precept. “Can the blind lead the blind? Shall they not both fall into the same ditch? The disciple is not above his master, but everyone that is perfect shall be as his master. Why do you see the speck in your brother’s eye but do not consider the beam in your own eye? Cast the beam first out of your own eye and then you will see clearly how to pull out the mote that is in your brother’s eye.”
He paused, then continued with another parable. “A good tree does not bring forth corrupt fruit, neither does a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree is known by its own fruit for men do not gather figs from thorns nor grapes from a bramble. A good man out of the good treasures of his heart brings forth that which is good. And an evil man out of the evil treasures of his heart brings forth that which is evil.”
He turned somber eyes then upon His disciples. “Whoever comes to Me and hears My sayings and does them is like a man who built a house and dug deep and laid the foundation on a rock. When the flood rose, the stream beat vehemently upon that house but could not shake it for it was founded upon a rock. But he that hears and does not is like a man that built a house on the surface without a foundation; the stream beat vehemently against it and immediately it fell and the ruin of that house was great.”
When He had finished this simplest and most concise of all His sermons, Jesus left the mountaintop followed by His disciples and went down to Capernaum again. At the edge of the city He was met by the Roman centurion named Paulos who had charge of the soldiers policing this area. The officer had earned the respect and affection of the leading Jews in Capernaum, not only by his upright conduct but because he had been instrumental in building their synagogue. The leaders of the congregation were with him now to second the request he had come to make of Jesus.
“Lord,” the centurion said humbly, “my servant lies at home sick and grievously tormented.”
“I will come and heal him,” Jesus said at once, for the soldier and his reputation were well known to Him.
“Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof,” the Roman protested. “Only say the word and my servan
t will be healed. For I also am a man under authority having under myself soldiers. I say to this one ‘Go’ and he goes, and to another ‘Come’ and he comes. And to my servant ‘Do this’ and he does it.”
Jesus’ eyes warmed at the understanding the officer showed of his position of authority under God. “Truly with no man in Israel have I found so great faith,” He said. “Go your way; as you have believed, so be it to you.”
Without hesitation the centurion turned back to his house, knowing he would find his servant healed as Jesus had promised. Jesus watched him go, a somber look on his face. This man who possessed such faith was not a Jew but a citizen of Rome.
III
Before Herod Antipas built Tiberias, his lavish capital overlooking the Sea of Galilee from the west, Magdala had been the most important city on the western shore. A center for the dried-fish industry, it was said to pay each year a wagonload of taxes to the tax collectors, and its fleet of fishing boats, as well as its piers and drying sheds, were the largest on the lake. The dried fish of Magdala were sold as far north as Antioch and as far south as the cities of the Nile delta. Even its Greek name, Tarichaea, was derived from the salting and drying of fish in which its inhabitants excelled.
Near Magdala, the Way of the Sea left the lake region and ascended the heights to the east; with several other important routes joining the shore road at this point, Magdala was a prosperous and cosmopolitan city. Its population was about equally Jewish and heathen, the latter making up such a great number that they had built a hippodrome for the better enjoyment of such Greek pastimes as sports and gladiatorial games. In ancient times the priestly order of Ezekiel had been centered in Magdala, but lately any priestly qualities the city might once have possessed had been lost and it was shunned by devout Jews as a city of harlots.
Surely the most beautiful woman in Magdala was the woman called Mary, usually with the surname Magdalene, since there was a Mary in nearly every Jewish household. For many years, she had been a dancer, well known in Alexandria, until she was brought back to Israel with a man named Gaius Flaccus, a Roman soldier and nephew of Pontius Pilate. Few understood the story of this relationship. Fewer still understood the strange illness characterized by seizures which would often rack her body and throw her to the ground unconscious. Because of her malady, Mary rarely traveled any great distance from her home. If the illness came upon her while she had guests, she excused herself and withdrew. Her malady could be controlled—provided she did not become emotionally disturbed—with a special medicine prepared for her by one of the most famous physicians of Alexandria. For that reason, the sickness did not keep her from entertaining widely, and her household was a favorite meeting place for many prominent people of the region, including Romans and Greeks as well as the wealthier Jews and officers of Herod’s court at nearby Tiberias. Though her relationship with Gaius Flaccus was whispered about among the Jews, it was not an issue among these who enjoyed currying favors. Although a Jewess by birth, Mary of Magdala lived in the Roman manner as befitted a consort of a Roman soldier, employed many servants, and entertained widely.
A group of friends had gathered at the home of Gaius Flaccus home one evening. From the cool atrium where a fountain played continuously, the guests had been conducted by a servant to the triclinium. Here each reclined according to the Roman custom upon a low couch, with platters of viands, fruit, and sweet cakes before them upon a low table, and silver cups of wine which a servant was always ready to refill.
Mary herself drank little. Her eyes glittered, but with the restlessness that always drove her. And her hand, when she lifted a bunch of the rich grapes that came from the fertile vineyards of Gennesaret was steady.
One of the guests was a Roman officer, Phaedas, a centurion on the staff of Pontius Pilate who was occupying a villa belonging to Herod Antipas at nearby Tiberias.
“Why has the procurator come to Galilee?” Mary asked him jokingly. “Doesn’t he trust Herod?”
“Pontius Pilate doesn’t trust his own wife.” The officer was already drunk or he would not have spoken so freely. “They say the Lady Procula’s been listening to the teachings of a Nazarene.’’
Mary leaned forward. “Who is He?”
“I can’t remember His name,” the Roman admitted. “But word came to Jerusalem of some miracles He has performed, healing lepers and such. The Lady Claudia Procula was curious and went to listen to the fellow. Her servants say she has not been the same since.”
“It is true about the miracles,” a Jew named Hosea said. “So many people are following the Nazarene that even Herod is beginning to be disturbed.”
“Did you hear about the servant of the centurion Paulos?’’ one of the women asked.
The Roman officer nodded. “Paulos was once a friend of mine, but lately he has become too sanctimonious for my liking.”
“Is that the same Paulos who built the synagogue in Capernaum?” Mary asked.
“The same,” Phaedas said.
“What about the servant?”
“To hear Paulos tell it, the man was dying and the Nazarene restored him to life without even touching him. But Paulos is no physician and I understand that nobody saw the servant.”
“They say in Capernaum that the Nazarene casts out dev—” Hosea stopped suddenly and an awkward silence filled the room. No one present had ever seen Mary in a seizure but her condition was well known in Magdala and Tiberias. Her servants had reported her to be possessed by “seven devils,” no doubt because they had now and then been lashed by her temper.
Mary’s hand tightened suddenly on the edge of the table. “Go on, Hosea,” she said, her voice suddenly hard. “Why do you hesitate?”
“It is probably only idle gossip,” Hosea mumbled, “not worth repeating.”
“You were saying this man casts out devils,” Mary insisted. “Is that right?”
“The people who follow Him say He has healed many who were possessed,” Hosea said. “They claim that all evil spirits are subject to Him.”
One of the women giggled. “The priests claim He casts out devils in the name of Beelzebub, Mary. Go to see Him and you might acquire more. Then no one could best you in business.”
Mary smiled without amusement. “My wits are enough to keep me ahead, my dear Herra,” she said smoothly. “Why should I need help from Beelzebub?”
There was a round of laughter at that and the party soon broke up. When the guests had departed, Mary paced the atrium for a while, then sent a slave for her steward, Hadja. Although she gave only lip service now to her upbringing as a Jewess, having adopted the Greek point of view toward religion while at Alexandria, Hadja was pious and attended the synagogue regularly. He had been with Mary’s family since childhood and between the two there was a deep bond of affection. She could be sure the old steward would tell her the truth about the Nazarene.
“I am sorry to disturb your rest, old one,” she said, using the name by which she had called him since she was a child. “Can you tell me anything about a Nazarene healer?”
“Do you mean Jesus?”
“I suppose so. I didn’t hear His name.”
He is a good man,” Hadja said, “a teacher or perhaps a prophet.”
“Does He really heal the sick?”
“The son of Herod’s steward, Chuza, was saved from death.”
“Do you know this is true?”
“I had it from Chuza’s own lips.”
“Chuza is a man of truth,” Mary said thoughtfully. “He would have no reason to lie.”
“Jesus also healed a leper and a man suffering from a palsy.”
“What of the rumor that evil spirits are subject to Him?” she asked.
It is no rumor,” Hadja assured her. “Jesus cast devils out of a man in the synagogue at Capernaum on the Sabbath day. I know men who were there and saw it don
e. They heard the evil ones name Him a Holy One of God.”
“Some say He uses the power of Beelzebub.”
“The Nazarene’s followers believe He is the Son of God,” Hadja said.
“Then He could heal me?”
“If He would.”
Mary’s quick temper flared. “Why not me, if He heals others?”
“They were Jews who believe in God. Once you were one of us, but now—”
Mary tossed her head angrily. “Must I grovel in the dirt and beg this Nazarene to heal me?”
Hadja looked at her for a long moment before he spoke. “You might save yourself if you did,” he said. “It is written, ‘Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.’’’
“Why should I humble myself?” Mary demanded, her eyes blazing. “Go find this Nazarene. Tell Him I have been treated by the finest physicians at the museum in Alexandria and have paid them well though they did not help me. Bring Him here and I will pay Him what He asks to cure me. But don’t expect me to grovel.”
Hadja had withstood the brunt of his mistress’s anger more than once. He knew her good qualities and loved her for them, but he also knew her weaknesses. “The Nazarene seeks out no one,” he said. “Those who wish help must come to Him and request it. He asks no recompense.”
Mary looked at him suspiciously. “Do you follow this—this devil-exorciser?”
“I believe the way to eternal life lies through Him,” Hadja said quietly. “One day I hope to be worthy of it.”
“Well, I will not seek Him out,” Mary said with a toss of her head. “You may go. And see that you don’t waste your time listening to false prophets.”
The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ Page 16