Jesus the Son of Man

by Kahlil Gibran

The deathless song of our Beloved.

  Nay, my maidens, stay your hands.

  Lay by your harps.

  We cannot sing Him now.

  The faint whisper of our song cannot reach His tempest,

  Nor pierce the majesty of His silence.

  Lay by your harps and gather close around me,

  I would repeat His words to you,

  And I would tell you of His deeds,

  For the echo of His voice is deeper than our passion.

  BENJAMIN THE SCRIBE

  IT HAS BEEN SAID THAT JESUS WAS THE ENEMY OF

  Rome and Judea.

  But I say that Jesus was the enemy of no man and no race.

  I have heard Him say, "The birds of the air and the mountain tops are not

  mindful of the serpents in their dark holes.

  "Let the dead bury their dead. Be you yourself among the living, and soar

  high."

  I was not one of His disciples. I was but one of the many who went after

  Him to gaze at His face.

  He looked upon Rome and upon us who are the slaves of Rome, as a father

  looks upon his children playing with toys and fighting among themselves

  for the larger toy. And He laughed from His height.

  He was greater than State and race; He was greater than revolution.

  He was single and alone, and He was an awakening.

  He wept all our unshed tears and smiled all our revolts.

  We knew it was in His power to be born with all who are not yet born, and

  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 corner-stone, and lay us around as little pebbles cemented close to

  Himself.

  He knew that the sap of His sky-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 armed 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

  honor Him upon that hill.

  JONATHAN

  UPON A DAY MY BELOVED 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 beloved 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 for ever been

  And shall for ever 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 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?

  Beloved, 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 stringed 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 beloved,

  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 not in anger. She said, "Listen, my daughter, and

  hearken and keep my word in remembrance: the man who but now passed by,

  like the shadow of a bird flying between the sun and the earth, shall

  prevail against the Caesars and the empire of the Caesars. He shall

  wrestle with the crowned bull of Chaldea, and the man-headed lion of

  Egypt, and He shall overcome them; and He shall rule the world.

  "But this land that now He walks shall come to naught; and Jerusalem,

  which sits proudly upon the hill, shall drift away in smoke upon the wind

  of desolation."

  When she spoke thus, my laughter turned to stillness and I was quiet.

  Then I said, "Who is this man, and of what country and tribe does He

  come? And how shall He conquer the great kings and the empires of the

  great kings?"

  And she answered, "He is one born here in this land, but we have

  conceived Him in our longing from the beginning of years. He is of all

  tribes and yet of none. He shall conquer by the word of His mouth and by

  the flame of His spirit."

  Then suddenly she rose and stood up like a pinnacle of rock; and she

  said, "May the angel of the Lord forgive me for pronouncing this word

  also: He shall be slain, and His youth shall be shrouded, and He shall be

  laid in silence beside the tongueless heart of the earth. And the maidens

  of Judea shall weep for Him."

  Then she lifted her hand skyward and spoke again, and she said, "But He

  shall be slain only in the body.

  "In the spirit He shall rise and go forth leading His host from this land

  where the sun is born, to the land where the sun is slain at eventide.

  "And His name shall be first among men."

  She was an aged seeress when she said these things, and I was but a girl,

  a field unploughed, a stone not yet in a wall.

  But all that she beheld in the mirror of her mind has come to pass even

  in my day.

  Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead and led men and women unto the

  people of the sunset. The city that yielded Him to judgment was given

  unto destruction; and in the Judgment Hall where He was tried and

  sentenced, the owl hoots a dirge while the night weeps the dew of her

  heart upon the fallen marble.

  And I am an old woman, and the years bend me down. My people are no more

  and my race is vanished.

  I saw Him but once again after that day, and once again heard His voice.

  It was upon a hill-top when He was talking to His friends and followers.

  And now I am old and alone, yet still He visits my dreams.

  He comes like a white angel with pinions; and with His grace He hushes my

  dread of darkness. And He uplifts me to dreams yet more distant.

  I am still a field unploughed, a ripe fruit that would not fall. The most

  that I possess is the warmth of the sun, and the memory of that man.

  I know that among my people there shall not rise again king nor prophet

  nor priest, even as the sister of my father foretold.

  We shall pass with the flowing of the rivers, and we shall be nameless.

  But those who crossed Him in mid-stream shall be remembered for crossing

  Him in mid-stream.

  MANASSEH,

  A LAWYER IN JERUSALEM

  YES, I USED TO HEAR HIM SPEAK. THERE was always a ready word upon His

  lips.

  But I admired Him as a man rather than as a leader. He preached something

  beyond my liking, perhaps beyond my reason. And I would have no man

  preach to me.

  I was taken by His voice and His gestures, but not by the substance of

  His speech. He charmed me but never convinced me; for He was too vague,

  too distant and obscure to reach my mind.

  I have known other men like Him. They are never constant nor are they

  consistent. It is with eloquence not with principles that they hold your

  ear and your passing thought, but never the core of your heart.

  What a pity that His enemies confronted Him and forced the issue. It was

  not necessary. I believe their hostility will add to His stature and turn

  His mildness to power.

  For is it not strange that in opposing a man you give Him courage? And in

  staying His feet you give Him wings?

  I know not His enemies, yet I am certain that in their fear of a harmless

  man they have lent Him strength and made Him dangerous.

  JEPHTHA OF CAESAREA

  THIS MAN WHO FILLS YOUR DAY AND HAUNTS your night is repellent to me. Yet

  you would tire my ears with His sayings and my mind with His deeds.

  I am weary of His words, and all that He did. His very name off ends me,

  and the name of His countryside. I will none of Him.

  Why make you a prophet of a man who was but a shadow? Why see a tower in

  this sand-dune, or imagine a lake in the raindrops gathered together in

  this hoof-print?

  I scorn not the echo of caves in valleys nor the long shadows of the

  sunset; but I would not listen to the deceptions that hum in your head,

  nor study the reflections in your eyes.

  What word did Jesus utter that Halliel had not spoken? What wisdom did He

  reveal that was not of Gamaliel? What are His lispings to the voice of

  Philo? What cymbals did He beat that were not beaten ere ever He lived?

  I hearken to the echo from the caves into the silent valleys, and I gaze

  upon the long shadows of sunset; but I would not have this man's heart

  echo the sound of another heart, nor would I have a shadow of the seers

  call himself a prophet.

  What man shall speak since Isaiah has spoken? Who dares sing since David?

  And shall wisdom be born now, after Solomon has been gathered to his

  fathers?

  And what of our prophets, whose tongues were swords and their lips

  flames?

  Left they a straw behind for this gleaner of Galilee? Or a fallen fruit

  for the beggar from the North Country? There was naught for Him save to

  break the loaf already baked by our ancestors, and to pour the wine which

  their holy feet had already pressed from the grapes of old.

  It is the potter's hand I honor not the man who buys the ware.

  I honor those who sit at the loom rather than the boor who wears the

  cloth.

  Who was this Jesus of Nazareth, and what is He? A man who dared not live

  His mind. Therefore He faded into oblivion and that is His end.

  I beg you, charge not my ears with His words or His deeds. My heart is

  overfull with the prophets of old, and that is enough.

  JOHN THE BELOVED DISCIPLE

  IN HIS OLD AGE

  YOU WOULD HAVE ME SPEAK OF JESUS, BUT how can I lure the passion-song of

  the world into a hollowed reed?

  In every aspect of the day Jesus was aware of the Father. He beheld Him

  in the clouds and in the shadows of the clouds that pass over the earth.

  He saw the Father's face reflected in the quiet pools, and the faint

  print of His feet upon the sand; and He often closed His eyes to gaze

  into the Holy Eyes.

  The night spoke to Him with the voice of the Father, and in solitude He

  heard the angel of the Lord calling to Him. And when H
e stilled Himself

  to sleep He heard the whispering of the heavens in His dreams.

  He was often happy with us, and He would call us brothers.

  Behold, He who was the first Word called us brothers, though we were but

  syllables uttered yesterday.

  You ask why I call Him the first Word.

  Listen, and I will answer:

  In the beginning God moved in space, and out of His measureless stirring

  the earth was born and the seasons thereof.

  Then God moved again, and life streamed forth, and the longing of life

  sought the height and the depth and would have more of itself.

  Then God spoke, and His words were man, and man was a spirit begotten by

  God's Spirit.

  And when God spoke thus, the Christ was His first Word and that Word was

  perfect; and when Jesus of Nazareth came to the world the first Word was

  uttered unto us and the sound was made flesh and blood.

  Jesus the Anointed was the first Word of God uttered unto man, even as if

  an apple tree in an orchard should bud and blossom a day before the other

  trees. And in God's orchard that day was an aeon.

  We are all sons and daughters of the Most High, but the Anointed One was

  His first-born, who dwelt in the body of Jesus of Nazareth, and He walked

  among us and we beheld Him.

  All this I say that you may understand not only in the mind but rather in

  the spirit. The mind weighs and measures but it is the spirit that

  reaches the heart of life and embraces the secret; and the seed of the

  spirit is deathless.

  The wind may blow and then cease, and the sea shall swell and then weary,

  but the heart of life is a sphere quiet and serene, and the star that

  shines therein is fixed for evermore.

  MANNUS THE POMPEIIAN

  TO A GREEK

  THE JEWS, LIKE THEIR NEIGHBORS THE Phoenicians and the Arabs, will not

  suffer their gods to rest for a moment upon the wind.

  They are over-thoughtful of their deity, and over-observant of one

  another's prayer and worship and sacrifice.

  While we Romans build marble temples to our gods, these people would

  discuss their god's nature. When we are in ecstasy we sing and dance

  round the altars of Jupiter and Juno, of Mars and Venus; but they in

  their rapture wear sackcloth and cover their heads with ashes-and even

  lament the day that gave them birth.

  And Jesus, the man who revealed God as a being of joy, they tortured Him,

  and then put Him to death.

  These people would not be happy with a happy god. They know only the gods

  of their pain.

  Even Jesus' friends and disciples who knew His mirth and heard His

  laughter, make an image of His sorrow, and they worship that image.

  And in such worship they rise not to their deity; they only bring their

  deity down to themselves.

  I believe however that this philosopher, Jesus, who was not unlike

  Socrates, will have power over His race and mayhap over other races.

  For we are all creatures of sadness and of small doubts. And when a man

  says to us, "Let us be joyous with the gods," we cannot but heed his

  voice. Strange that the pain of this man has been fashioned into a rite.

  These peoples would discover another Adonis, a god slain in the forest,

  and they would celebrate his slaying. It is a pity they heed not His

  laughter.

  But let us confess, as Roman to Greek. Do even we ourselves hear the

  laughter of Socrates in the streets of Athens? Is it ever in us to forget

  the cup of hemlock, even at the theatre of Dionysus?

  Do not rather our fathers still stop at the street corners to chat of

  troubles and to have a happy moment remembering the doleful end of all