And now His work on earth was done; the day was come for Him to return to the Father. The Eleven were again in Jerusalem, in the Upper Chamber sanctified by so many mysteries. St. Luke tells us that He appeared to them as they were at table. And eating together with them, He commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but should wait for the promise of the Father, which "you have heard," saith He, "by My mouth; for John indeed baptized with water, but you shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence."

And He led them out as far as Bethania. How they must have thought as they followed Him up the slope of Olivet, of that night six weeks ago when He had led them from the Supper Room through the streets of Jerusalem to the scene of His lonely Agony, the beginning of His Passion. Now His sufferings are over, and He is going up Olivet to mount thence to His Throne. They pass Gethsemane. The glory of the noonday sun is on the olive trees beneath whose shade He prayed that awful night. Here is the path down which they came on the day of palms when He wept over poor Jerusalem. Higher and higher they go, and now they stand on the summit. He looks around. To the north is Galilee and Nazareth and the Lake. Six miles to the south, Bethlehem and the Cave. At His feet Jerusalem; and over there, Calvary and the Sepulchre. He thinks of all the glory to His Father, all the treasure for us, the three and thirty years of His Life on earth have won, and His Heart is full of joy. "It is finished," was His last thought on Calvary; it is His last on Olivet.
The time is come for Him to leave the earth, but He is long in bidding it farewell. His Mother is close to Him, and, pressing round, are His dear disciples, glad now, because they love Him, that He is going to the Father. For each He has a last word, the word He knows will reach the heart and meet the needs of each, and keep up faith and hope and love unto the end. And He said to them:

"Go ye into the whole world and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved, but He that believeth not shall be condemned. And these signs shall follow them that believe: In My Name they shall cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents; and if they shall drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover."

And after He had spoken to them, lifting up His hands, He blessed them. And, whilst He blessed them, He was raised up, and a cloud received Him out of their sight. And, while they were beholding Him, going up to Heaven, two men stood by them in white garments who said:

"Ye men of Galilee, why stand you looking up to Heaven? This Jesus, who is taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come as you have seen Him going into Heaven."

"And they adoring went back into Jerusalem with great joy." "And going forth they preached everywhere, the Lord working withal, and confirming the word with signs that followed."

We began this story of Jesus of Nazareth with the question of the persecutor Saul: "Who art Thou, Lord?" We end it with the cry of the heathen centurion, as, sore afraid, he stood in the noonday darkness beside the Cross:

"Indeed this Man was the Son of God!" This is the testimony borne by Heaven and earth and Hell itself to Jesus Christ. By the Angels singing in the midnight sky over Bethlehem. By the star that led wise men to His feet. By the Voice at His Baptism. By the winds and the waves of the stormy sea.

By the earth that gave up its dead at His word and shuddered beneath His Cross. It is the testimony of type and of prophecy, of His teaching, of His miracles, of His Resurrection and Ascension, of His divinely beautiful Character. It is the testimony of those who hated Him unto death and of the very devils themselves, as well as of those who in every age have loved Him and laid down their lives for Him with joy. It is the testimony of His Church to the end of time, of all who have eyes to see and ears to hear:

"Indeed this Man was the Son of God!"

Writing to his converts at Ephesus, St. Paul bade them hold fast the faith they had received, and beware of the false teachers who were come among them. As the soldiers of his time warded off an enemy's arrows by a shield that covered them from head to foot, so were these new Christians to "take the shield of faith wherewith to extinguish all the fiery darts of the most wicked one."

To you, the children of this twentieth century, the great Apostle would give the same solemn charge. There are men in these days who are trying to undo all that Jesus Christ has done, who deny whatever in His Life they cannot understand, and teach children that such facts as His Resurrection and Ascension could not have happened because they do not see how they happened. It is very wrong and very cruel thus to rob the little ones of their faith in Him who died to save them from sin and hell. Do not listen to such teaching. When men or women, companions, books or newspapers, would shake your faith in Jesus Christ—up, then, with the shield of faith:

"I believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ His only Son, our Lord." Cling to Jesus Christ. Let no one, let no thing separate you from Him. He alone, by His Precious Blood, can wash away your sins. He alone can comfort you when you are poor, or sick, or desolate. He alone can give you courage in the hour of trial, victory in temptation, and help in the awful hour of death.

When all desert you then, He will stand by you and keep you from harm if you have clung to Him all your life through as your Saviour and your Friend. Cover yourselves, then, with the shield of faith when danger threatens. Be glad that as children of the Holy Catholic Church you are preserved from the ignorance and the disbelief which is taking Jesus Christ out of the hearts and the lives of so many who are outside. Say to Him joyfully with Peter and with Martha:

"Thou art Christ the Son of the living God." And be not afraid to profess your faith boldly: Jesus is God! if on the earth this blessed faith decays, More tender must our love become, More plentiful our praise.

By your reverence in His Presence, by the frequency and the fervour of your Communions, by the observance of His Commandments and of the precepts of His Church, profess your faith in Him. And if at times it costs, as it most certainly will, to show yourselves the followers of Jesus Christ, look forward to that Day when He in His turn will confess you before the whole world. Remember that this Jesus, who has been taken up from us into Heaven, is to come again. Look forward to meeting Him with joy at His Second Coming, to being owned by Him then for one of His, according to His promise:

"He that shall confess Me before men, I will also confess him before My Father who is in Heaven and before the Angels of God."
 
                                                                     THE END

The darkness of that Sabbath night was just giving place to day. It was beginning to dawn towards the first day of the week. Within the sealed sepulchre all
was stillness and gloom, The mangled Body in its wrappings lay motionless, stiff and cold. Suddenly a blaze of glory filled the rocky chamber, and in the midst was Jesus, Jesus risen from the dead to die no more! The Soul had returned from Limbo and re-entered the Body, and He rose, Body and Soul reunited for ever, in a majesty and beauty befitting the Son of God.

He was the very same, but oh! how changed; all the marks of His suffering and humiliation gone, only in hands and feet and side five Wounds, not disfiguring, but glorifying Him by their dazzling beauty. As He rose by Llis own power, so by His own power He left the tomb; no angel rolled back the stone to let Him pass, but, with the subtility that belongs to a glorified body, He passed through, leaving the guards still sleeping and the seal untouched. But the next instant Jerusalem was shaken to its foundations by a great earthquake, for an Angel of the Lord descended from Heaven, and, coming, rolled back the stone and sat upon it. And his countenance was as lightning, and his raiment as snow. And for fear of him the guards were struck with terror and became as dead men. One, one only of those who believed in Him was preparing to welcome Him back from the grave. She who kept all His words, pondering them in her heart, held fast the promise: "and the third day He shall rise again." She knew He would return to her. She was counting the hours all that sad Saturday, and, when night fell, she was keeping watch and turning continually to the East for the first streaks of the coming day. We wonder, perhaps, that with hope such as hers sorrow could have been so crushing. But, whilst her Son was absent and the memory of His sufferings was allowed to overwhelm her, there could be no consolation for that stricken Mother. She could only make her acts of faith and hope, and wait patiently till He should come. And He came! More swiftly than the lightning flashing from East to West, He passed from His rocky
tomb to her chamber on Mount Sion, and as swiftly came the change in that desolate heart from midnight darkness to midday brightness and joy. The dawn was only breaking, the third day scarcely come, when He returned from the grave, eager to comfort those who mourned for Him, and His Mother first of all. The Scripture, indeed, does not mention His visit to her, but can we think that the best of sons would refuse this honour and consolation to His Mother? St. Ignatius of Loyola says that anyone who could doubt that Christ's first visit was to her, would deserve to hear His own word of reproach: "Are you also without understanding ?"

The meeting between the Mother and the Son was for themselves alone. It will be one of the joys of Heaven to know what passed between them in those first moments of His Risen Life. All we know now is that Mary could say with greater truth than David: "According to the multitude of my sorrows in my heart, thy comforts have given joy to my soul."  Both were eager for the glad surprises of this blessed day to begin soon. He must hasten to comfort those who on His account were in such bitter trouble. And so He left her to go on His errands of love, to do that work of comforting which is always the delight of His Sacred Heart.

Who could come next but Magdalen? After His Blessed Mother's, no heart was so desolate as hers. She had stayed by Him to the end, had helped to lay Him in His grave, had sat at the door weeping when all had gone away. As long as there was anything she could do for Him, even after death, her love was restless, and so she set out very early on the first day of the week, with the holy women her companions, to finish the embalming of the sacred Body. On the way to the Sepulchre they remembered the huge stone at the entrance and wondered how they would get in. But the difficulty did not stop them, and on their arrival they found the stone rolled away and the entrance to the tomb wide open. Without waiting to see anything further, Magdalen in dismay ran off to Peter and John and said to them:

"They have taken away the Lord out of the Sepulchre, and we know not where they have laid Him." In the meantime the other women went into the Sepulchre and saw a young man sitting at the right side clothed with a white robe, and they were astonished. And he said to them:

"Fear not you, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for He is risen as He said. Come and see the place where the Lord was laid. And going quickly tell His disciples and Peter that He is risen, and, behold, He will go before you into Galilee, there you shall see Him as He told you." And they going out fled from the Sepulchre, for a trembling and fear had seized them. And they went quickly with fear and great joy, running to tell His disciples.

What running there was that morning! for Peter and John, on hearing Magdalen's tale, both ran together to the Sepulchre. They saw the stone rolled back, and the linen cloths in which our Lord had been swathed folded together, but there was no angel there now to explain what it all meant. Full of wonder and perplexity they had gone home again, when Magdalen, who had followed them, arrived and went in. There she stood before the empty tomb weeping. Now, as she was weeping, she stooped down and looked into the Sepulchre: and she saw two Angels in white, sitting one at the head and one at the feet where the Body of Jesus had been laid. They said to her:

"Woman, why weepest thou ?" She said to them:

"Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him." When she had said this she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing ; and she knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her:

"Woman, why weepest thou ? whom seekest thou?" She, thinking that it was the gardener, said to Him:

"Sir, if thou hast taken Him hence, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will take Him away." Jesus said to her:

"Mary." She, turning, said to Him: "Rabboni," which is to say: Master. Jesus said to her:

"Do not touch Me, for I am not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them: I ascend to My Father and to your Father, to My God and to your God." Mary Magdalen went and told the disciples, who were mourning and weeping:

"I have seen the Lord and these things He said to me." And they, hearing that He was alive and had been seen by her, did not believe. Her two companions were on their way to Jerusalem to deliver the Angel's message, when Jesus met them, saying:

"All hail!" And they came up and took hold of His feet and adored Him. And Jesus said to them:

"Fear not, go tell My brethren that they go into Galilee, there they shall see Me." But Magdalen's radiant face and joyful words:

"I have seen the Lord," and the assurances of her companions that they had kissed His feet, failed to cheer the disciples. Only the women had seen Him, they said, and who could believe such idle tales as theirs!

Two of them were so weighed down with sorrow that they left Jerusalem in the afternoon to go to a little village called Emmaus. As they went they talked over all that had happened since Friday, but stopped short on finding that a stranger had suddenly joined them. He saw they were in trouble and said kindly:

"What are these discourses that you hold one with another as you walk, and are sad?" One of them, whose name was Cleophas, answered:

"Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things that have been done there in these days?" To whom He said:

"What things?" And they said:

"Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a Prophet mighty in work and word before God and all the people; and how our chief priests and princes delivered Him to be condemned to death and crucified Him. But we hoped that it was He that should have redeemed Israel; and now, besides all this, today is the third day since these things were done. Yea, and certain women also of our company affrighted us, who before it was light were at the Sepulchre, and, not finding His Body, came saying that they had also seen a vision of Angels who say that He is alive. And some of our people went to the Sepulchre and found it so as the women had said, but Him they found not." The Stranger listened quietly to the end of their story. Then He said:

"O foolish and slow of heart to believe in all things which the prophets have spoken. Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and so to enter into His glory?" And beginning at Moses He showed them from all the prophets that He who was to come was to be a suffering Messiah, not the founder of an earthly kingdom as the Jews expected. So far, then, from being cast down by what had befallen their Master, they ought to take comfort from it, seeing how exactly all the prophecies had been fulfilled in Him. Moreover, if suffering was the way by which the Messiah was to redeem the world, it was not to last forever. For Him and for all His followers the cross was to lead to the crown.

The disciples listened with rapt attention. Here was a new light thrown upon that shameful death of their dear Master which had seemed to be the end of all their hopes. The cloud upon their hearts began to lift. A strange peace and joy seemed to flow to them, not from the words alone, but from the very Presence of the Stranger. They could not bear to part from Him; He had made all the difference in their lives. They drew nigh to the town whither they were going, and He made as though He would have gone farther, but they constrained Him, saying:

"Stay with us, because it is towards evening and the day is now far spent." And He went in with them. And while He was at table with them, He took bread, and blessed, and broke and gave to them. And their eyes were opened and they knew Him, and He vanished out of their sight. Here, then, was the explanation of that happy afternoon. And they said one to the other:

"Was not our heart burning within us whilst He spoke in the way and opened to us the Scriptures?" And rising up the same hour, they went back to Jerusalem, and they found the Eleven gathered together, and those that were with them. Before they could speak they were welcomed with the glad cry:

"The Lord is risen, indeed, and hath appeared to Simon!" They looked around. How different the state of things in the Upper Chamber from what they had left a few hours ago! Joy on every face. Peter's a sight never to be forgotten; such peace there, such deep content. No word of what had passed between him and his Master escaping him, as if his secret were too sweet to be broken by a word, but the certainty of the Resurrection so strong within him that on his simple assurance the rest believed: "The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon." He is confirming his brethren according to our Lord's words at the Supper.

At last Cleophas and his companion get a hearing and tell their story of the wondrous walk that afternoon, and Who went with them, and how they did not know Him till the breaking of bread. Those who had not yet seen our Lord listened with beating hearts; they believed, but oh, that they too might see Him! A stir; a startled cry! For there He stood in their midst—Himself, the very same; the face, the look, the smile they knew so well.

"Peace be to you ; it is I, fear not," He said. But they being troubled and affrighted supposed that they saw a spirit. And He said to them:

"Why are you troubled, and why do thoughts arise in your hearts? See My hands and feet, that it is I Myself; handle and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as you see Me to have." And, when He had said this, He showed them His hands and His feet. The disciples, therefore, were glad when they saw the Lord. But while they yet believed not and wondered for joy, He said:

"Have you here anything to eat I" And they offered Him a piece of broiled fish and a honeycomb. And when He had eaten before them, taking the remains, He gave to them. Then He said to them again:

"Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent Me, I also send you." When He had said this He breathed on them, and He said to them: "Receive ye the Holy Ghost; whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained."

The third Sacrament instituted in the Upper Chamber. The Thursday before, the Blessed Sacrament had been instituted there; the Apostles had been made priests, and received the awful power to consecrate. And now, reserved for the evening of this glad Easter Day, when His word again and again is "Peace," He institutes and leaves in His Church for ever the blessed Sacrament of forgiveness, the Sacrament of Peace.

How grand is our Lord's generosity in this first meeting with His poor disciples ! How completely He sweeps away all fear that their desertion of Him is to make any difference in His feeling towards them! Even if the women's tale were true and the Lord was risen indeed, He would look out now for followers more worthy of Him. So they must have thought. He knew this and set Himself to reassure and comfort them in every way that loving Heart of His could devise. Before His Passion it was their suffering, rather than His own, that troubled Him. In His Risen Life, what is due to Himself seems forgotten in His concern for them. One would think He had to make amends to them for what they had borne for His sake. And so He hastens here and there, from one group to another, bringing brightness and happiness to all. Before His Passion they were "friends," now they are "brethren." His one thought this Easter Day is to bring joy to all who love Him. Not so much as a hint at any need of forgiveness. Oh, what a beautiful character is our dearest Lord's!

At the Last Supper it seemed as if self-forgetting love could go no further. But when He comes back from the grave, and the weight that all His life long had pressed upon His Sacred Heart is gone, there is a gladness, almost playfulness, about Him as He appears and disappears and hides, that takes us by surprise, and discloses depths of tenderness we had not known before. One alone of the Eleven, Thomas, was still in trouble because in unbelief. He was not with them when Jesus came. On his return the rest exclaimed joyfully:

"We have seen the Lord !" But he said to them:

"Except I shall see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe." Poor St. Thomas! few among the Apostles loved the Master better than he. It was the very depth of his affection that made him hesitate to believe what seemed too good to be true. Perhaps, too, he was a little jealous of the others. Why had he missed what had made them so joyful! His mind worked slowly. He did not jump at conclusions. The impulsiveness of Peter, James, and John was something of a trial to him. He rather prided himself on the prudence of his resolve not to believe like them till he had seen like them. And so he remained aloof, wretched and miserable, a trial to them all. But they saw how he was suffering, and they were patient with him and kind. And their charity was rewarded. He had no right, it is true, to lay down the conditions on which he would believe, and to get himself into such a state that nothing but a miracle could bring him round. But if faith and hope had gone, love remained, and our Lord had pity on him and humoured him and gave him the proofs he required After eight days again the disciples were within, and Thomas with them. Jesus came, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst and said:

"Peace be to you." Then He said to Thomas: "Put in thy finger hither, and see My hands, and bring hither thy hand and put it into My side, and be not faithless, but believing." Thomas answered and said to Him:

"My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him:

"Because thou hast seen Me, Thomas, thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen and have believed."

Our Lord's Appearances after His Resurrection were for His friends alone. His enemies had abundant proof that He was risen, but they did not see Him again. They had had their day of grace, and His visible presence on earth was no longer for them. He had told them shortly before His Passion that if they believed not Moses and the Prophets, neither would they believe if one should rise from the dead. These words were fulfilled now, for the awful "signs" of Friday afternoon and Sunday morning left them hardened as before.

When the guards at the Sepulchre, who, at the presence of the Angel, were struck with terror and became as dead men, had come to themselves, they went into the City and told the chief priests all things that had been done. And they being assembled together, taking counsel, gave a great sum of money to the soldiers, saying.

"Say you: His disciples came by night and stole Him away when we were asleep. And if the
Governor shall hear of this, we will persuade him and secure you." So they, taking the money, did as theywere taught. "And this word was spread abroad among the Jews even unto this day," says St. Matthew.

"Spread abroad" it might be, but not believed. That the disciples of Jesus, simple, timid men, who had all taken flight when He was seized in the Garden, and had not dared to show themselves since, could have attempted such a thing, or that Roman soldiers, trained up under strict military discipline, and placed there only the evening before, should be all asleep at the same time, and should sleep so soundly and so long as not to be awakened either by the rolling away of the stone or the carrying off of the body—this was a story too ridiculous to deceive any. But the soldiers, who had nothing to lose and much to gain by spreading it abroad, did as they were told. It was no concern of theirs that people asked: if they were asleep how could they see the theft of the body? If they did not see it how were they witnesses?

"He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh at them," says Holy Scripture, speaking of the plots of the wicked. These words come to mind as we see the priests carefully sealing the stone and setting their guards on that Sabbath afternoon. These guards were the first witnesses to the Resurrection, and that seal was its surest sign. God allowed it so to be for the confirmation of our faith. He knew that everything about our Divine Lord would be attacked by unbelievers, that the day would come when the Mystery which is the very foundation of our faith in Him would be assailed. That day has come. Because they cannot understand how Christ rose again, men are saying that the Resurrection is an impossibility, and this they try to prove in books and papers that are read by men, women and children of every class, in every country, of every shade of religions belief.

As children of the Catholic Church, we must be on our guard against the unbelief of the day in every shape. But most of all must we fear and fly from anything that would shake our faith in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. If that goes, all must go. If that goes, we are no longer Christians, for it is our faith in the Resurrection that makes us followers of Christ. We are not disciples of a dead but of a living Man, the God Man Jesus Christ, yesterday, today, and for ever.

We believe in this wonderful Mystery because the Holy Scripture, which is the word of God, affirms it, and because the Church of God has taught it from the beginning. But we may strengthen our faith and meet the objections of those who try to shake it by considering two points about the Resurrection: Men are to be found now who say that our Lord was not really dead upon the cross, and, therefore, could not rise again. Now, both pagan and Jewish writers declare that Jesus Christ was put to death by Pontius Pilate in the reign of Tiberias Caesar. The piercing of the sacred Side proves His death; so do the words of the centurion to Pilate, and Pilate's gift of the body to Joseph of Arimathea, whilst the precautions of the priests make both His Death and Resurrection as clear as day to all but such as will not see.

Again, the wonderful change in the Apostles proves the truth of the Resurrection. They never so much as dreamed of their Master rising again. After His death they were utterly disconsolate and hopeless, hiding away within barred doors, afraid to show themselves abroad. A few weeks later these cowardly men were proclaiming the Eesurrection boldly. No fear of their rulers nor of torments nor of death could silence them:

"Jesus of Nazareth, whom you by the hands of wicked men have crucified and slain—this Jesus hath God raised again, whereof all we are witnesses," said Peter in his first sermon to the Jews.

Standing a little later before Annas and Caiaphas to answer for his boldness in healing a cripple in the Name of Jesus, he said:

"Ye princes of the people and ancients, hear. Be it known to you all and to all the people of Israel, that by the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth whom you crucified, whom God hath raised from the dead, even by Him, this man standeth before you whole."

Think of Peter, poor, trembling Peter, who at the first word of a servant girl had denied his Master, speaking in this strain before the dreaded Sanhedrin! How he insists. How little he cares what they do to him. And when he and John are forbidden to teach any more in the Name of Jesus, their only answer to the Council is:

"If it be just to hear you rather than God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." To witness to this truth, and preach to all men Jesus crucified and risen again, the Apostles gave up friends and country, embraced a life of hardship and suffering, and at length joyfully laid down their lives.
Acts 4.

Would they have done this had the Resurrection been a fable? Our faith is built upon the Resurrection; that is, it rests upon this great truth as a house on its foundation. Take away the foundation and the building falls to the ground. Give up faith in the Resurrection and belief in all other articles of the Creed breaks down. We believe them on the word of Jesus, and we believe in Jesus because of the Resurrection. The Gospel is sometimes called " the preaching of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ." This was the proof He gave to friends and enemies that He was God. It was this wonderful fact that made the first Christians by bringing such multitudes into the Church at Pentecost. It was to commemorate Christ's rising from the dead that the first day of the week, Sunday, the Lord's Day, was appointed by the Apostles to take the place of the Jewish Sabbath.

Many men have worked miracles in His Name and have even raised the dead to life. But no mere man has ever raised himself to life. This God alone could do. Jesus Christ alone could say : "I have power to lay down My life, and I have power to take it up again." His Resurrection, then, proves Him to be God. If He is God, then all He has taught is true. We must believe in Him and we must do all He has commanded us.

There is no article of our Creed that we should say with more triumph and joy than this:  "The third day He rose again from the dead." And with more hope. For it is because of the Resurrection of our Head that we, the members, look for our own and say: "I believe in the Resurrection of the body and life everlasting. Amen." But we must go back to the Appearances of our Lord to His disciples, by which He confirmed their faith in this astounding Mystery. When during forty days they saw Him, touched Him, heard Him, ate with Him, they could no longer doubt the reality of the Resurrection. He was as real a person to them as Peter or John; He might be looked for at any moment; they could put their questions and difficulties to Him as before.

About a week after the Resurrection the Eleven left Judea for Galilee. They were glad to go north. Jerusalem had few happy memories for them. There the Lord had suffered and died. His enemies were there and more infuriated than ever since His Resurrection from the dead. It was by the simple folk of Galilee that He had been most followed and loved. Everything there the mountains, the fields, the highways spoke to them of Him. And above all, the Lake. On its beach they had received their call to follow Him and become fishers of men. There He had spoken the first parables and worked many of His deeds of mercy. He had stilled its storms and come to them across its waters. What wonder that they were glad to find themselves once more on the shores of that dear Lake!

It was strange to go back to nets and fishing after that marvellous Pasch; but they were poor men, and had to live by their labour. And so when Peter said one evening:

"I go a-fishing," six of them answered: "We also come with thee." One of them was Thomas. He had learned his lesson; he was not going to lose a chance again by separating himself from the rest. They put to sea and laboured all night, but caught nothing. The sun was rising next morning when, through the light mist, they saw a Figure standing on the shore, and heard a Voice calling:

"Children, have you any meat ?" The weary men answered : "No." "Cast the net on the right side of the ship," said the Voice, "and you shall find." They obeyed, suspecting nothing. But when the net sank heavily, and they were scarcely able to draw it for the multitude of fishes, John said to Peter:

"It is the Lord!" In an instant Peter was over the side of the boat and making for land with all his might. The six came up presently in the boat dragging the net with fishes. As soon as they came to land, they saw hot coals lying, and a fish laid thereon, and bread. Jesus said to them:

"Bring hither of the fishes which you have now caught." Simon Peter went up and drew the net to land full of great fishes, one hundred and fifty-three; and, although there were so many, the net was not broken. Jesus said to them:

"Come and dine." Tired and hungry, they stretched themselves on the beach. And He went in and out among them giving them fish and bread. They looked at Him in silent wonder; looked at the Wounds in His feet and hands. They listened to Him, took food from His hands, touched Him as He went past. And when He came and sat down amongst them as in the old days, and the fresh morning breeze stirred His hair, and there were the sweet words and ways that belonged to Him alone, revealing Him every moment—what more could they want to convince them of the truth of His own words on the Day of the Resurrection:

"It is I Myself ?" St. John, who was there, tells us that "none of them who were at meat durst ask Him: "Who art Thou?" knowing that it was the Lord. He goes on to tell us what happened after that early dinner. When they had dined Jesus said to Simon Peter:

"Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me more than these?" He said to Him: "Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee." He said to him: "Feed My lambs." He said to him again: "Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me?" He said to Him: "Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee."
He said to him: "Feed My lambs." He said to him the third time: "Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me?" Peter was grieved because He had said to him the third time: "Lovest thou Me?" and he said to Him: "Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee."
He said to him: " Feed My sheep."

Our Lord would give Peter the opportunity of making reparation by three professions of love for his three denials. And He asked him for a greater love than the rest, because of the greater trust that was to be committed to him—the charge of the whole flock.

The Church, as you will remember, consists of two classes, the Teaching and the taught. The taught are the simple faithful, whom our Lord calls the lambs; the sheep who look after the lambs are the bishops; they make up the Church teaching. Over all Peter is set as Shepherd. Teachers as well as taught, bishops and priests as well as the simple laity, are to look for guidance to Peter and his successors. As in the East a flock is kept together by following the shepherd, who walks on in front and leads it, so the flock of Christ is to be kept united by obeying its chief Shepherd the Pope; who is the successor of Peter and the Vicar of Christ.

"Go, tell His disciples and Peter," the Angel said to the women at the Sepulchre. Why "and Peter?" Was he not one of the disciples? Yes, but the first among them, who had charge of the rest and had to confirm them. This he did on the very Day of the Resurrection. And with wonderful success. What was an "idle tale," when told by the women, was the truth indeed when it came from Peter: "The Lord is risen indeed and hath appeared to Simon."

We must not think that the Gospels give us all the Appearances of our Lord to the Apostles after His Resurrection. St. John tells us expressly:

"Many other signs did Jesus in the sight of His disciples which are not written in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in His Name." St. Luke says: "He showed Himself alive after His Passion by many proofs, for forty days appearing to His disciples and speaking to them of the Kingdom of God," that is, the Church, which our Lord often called by this name.

In one of these Appearances He was seen by more than five hundred disciples at once. This Appearance on the mountain was the only one of which the time and place were known beforehand. Here our Lord was to meet His own by appointment. From all parts —Jerusalem, Judea, Galilee—they flocked to the spot, full of joyful expectation. And there, in presence of this large number of believers, He gave to the Apostles the solemn commission to teach the whole world.

And Jesus coming spoke to them, saying:

"All power is given to Me in Heaven and in earth. Going, therefore, teach ye all nations, baptising them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you, and behold I am with you all days even to the consummation of the world."

It was early morning, about four o'clock. Already the Sanhedrists were hastening to a second meeting to confirm the condemnation passed during the night, and to discuss the best means of extorting from the Roman Governor the sentence of death which they were not allowed to carry out themselves. Being a Gentile, Pilate would not take much notice of the charge of blasphemy, but his well-known dread of falling into disgrace with Csesar could be turned to account.

By this time it had spread all over the City that Jesus of Nazareth had been taken and found guilty of death. Everyone was talking of Him. Some were surprised that a man who had spent his days in doing good should be so persecuted. Others said it had been found out that his wonderful works were done by the power of the devil. The priests had declared—and surely they should know best—that he was a dangerous man, who must be got out of the way, or he would bring ruin on the nation. And what were his feelings who had betrayed Him ? Perhaps Judas had persuaded himself that our Lord would escape unharmed from His enemies as He had often done before. At all events, the tidings that He had been condemned to death, and was being taken to Pilate that the sentence might be confirmed, filled him with unspeakable horror. What could he do to still the remorse of conscience that was torturing him? People said the priests were even now entering the Temple on their way to the Praetorium. He would hasten thither and give them hack the hateful pieces of silver which had brought him to this. A few minutes later the worshippers in the Temple were startled by seeing a wretched-looking man rush past them after the priests, who with their Prisoner were passing through the Courts.

"I have sinned" he cried, "in betraying innocent blood," and he held out both hands to them with the money. They looked at him with contempt.

"What is that to us?" they said; "look thou to it." The cruel words filled up the measure of his misery. He might have been saved yet had he thrown himself at the feet of Jesus, or gone away and wept like Peter. But though his heart was full of a fierce hatred of himself, there was no true contrition for his sin, no hope of forgiveness. He gave himself up to despair, and, casting down the money in the Temple, went into a lonely place near the Garden where he had betrayed his Master, and hanged himself.

The Governor had been told that the chief priests, followed by an immense crowd, were bringing Jesus of Nazareth to the Praetorium for judgment, and he prepared for one of his stormy interviews with the rulers of the people. Pilate disliked and despised the Jews, and was severe, often cruel in his dealing with them. But he had no prejudice against our Blessed Lord, of whom he had heard, not from public report alone, but from Claudia Procula, his wife. How she had come to hear of the young Teacher from Galilee, we are not told, but His gracious words and ways, the hatred of the rulers, the dangers that hedged Him round, had come to her knowledge, and her heart was drawn to Him. Whilst He was suffering in the Garden, Procula, too, was suffering in a dream on His account. Terrified now lest her husband should do anything against Him, she determined to follow the proceedings as far as possible from one of her apartments where she could see without being seen. Here, at the window, she stood watching with alarm the masses of excited people now approaching the Praetorium. Knowing that the chief priests were delivering up Jesus of Nazareth out of envy, Pilate was resolved to hear the cause himself and give the Prisoner a fair chance. He therefore gave orders that the priests should present themselves before his tribunal. But they would not defile themselves at this holy Paschal time by crossing the threshold of a Gentile, and the Governor had to go out and meet them in the great square in front of the Praetorium, called Lithostrotos, or the Pavement, from the coloured stones with which it was laid.

"What accusation do you bring against this Man?" he asked. They answered haughtily: "If He were not a malefactor we would not have delivered Him up to thee." And in loud, angry voices they began to accuse Him, saying:

"We have found this man perverting our nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that He is Christ the King." It was something new to Pilate to find this sudden zeal for Caesar, and he could not repress a sneering smile. But he was not going to condemn a man on no better evidence than their word, as they seemed to expect. Serious charges had been brought against Him, and Roman justice required that they should be seriously examined. He would see the Accused in private, and two of his guards were sent out to bring our Lord into the hall.

"Art Thou a King?" inquired the Governor. Jesus answered: "Thou sayest that I am a King. For this was I born and for this came I into the world . . but My Kingdom is not of this world."

It was as Pilate had been informed. The Man was no danger to Rome. He had always spoken peacefully to peaceful crowds. If His enemies had anything against Him, it was on account of some Jewish superstition that was beneath his notice. Satisfied, therefore, as to His innocence, Pilate brought Him out to the people and said:

"I find no cause in Him." The chief priests began to cry out, and to bring charge upon charge against Him. The Governor waited for His reply. But He answered nothing. Pilate was struck by this silence and looked well at the Man before him. Never had he had to do with so noble a prisoner; never had he seen such majesty and serenity, and such contempt of death. Wondering exceedingly he said again:

"I find no cause in this Man." But the priests only exclaimed more vehemently: "He stirreth up all the people, beginning from Galilee to this place." Pilate was naturally just. He saw through the accusations of the Jews. He knew that our Lord was innocent of all these crimes, and that He ought to be released at once. But Pilate was weak. He was afraid- that the Jews might report him to the cruel Emperor Tiberias, and that disgrace, or something worse, might befall him if he declared himself openly in favour of One who claimed to be a King. He tried therefore to strike a middle course, and began the wretched shuffling, which was the cause of so much shame and agony to our Lord and of such perplexity to himself.

The name Galilee brought up by the priests seemed to show a way out of the difficulty. Galilee belonged to Herod, who was in Jerusalem for the Pasch. Jesus of Nazareth as his subject should be tried by him. Greatly relieved at having thus shifted the responsibility on to another, Pilate sent our Lord to Herod, and congratulated himself on having brought to a successful conclusion an important and awkward case.

Herod was as much pleased to see our Lord as Pilate was to get rid of Him. For a long time he had wanted to get a sight of this extraordinary Man, and to see some of the marvels of which he had heard. His opportunity had come, for the Prisoner would surely be only too glad to gratify him and win his favour. On His appearance, therefore, before the courtiers assembled as for an entertainment, Herod treated Him with respect, showed an interest in His case, and asked Him many questions. But He who had answered Pilate would not deign to speak to this vicious prince, the murderer of St. John the Baptist, the man whom for his cunning He had called a " fox." Herod's conscience told him the reason of this silence, and, provoked at being thus put to shame before his court, he took his revenge by mocking his Prisoner. He had Him dressed up in a white garment as a fool, and in this guise sent Him back to Pilate.

Now, at last, the persistent efforts of the priests to dishonour Christ before the people were rewarded. The crowds that had flocked to Him in the Temple and poured out of Jerusalem six days ago to bring Him in triumph into the City, the crowds that He had loved and taught and healed, turned against Him. As He came out of Herod's palace in the fool's garment, He was received with hisses, jeers, and all the wonted insults of an Eastern mob.
It was an hour or two after Pilate had sent our Lord to Herod that He was told the soldiers were bringing Him back. The weak, cowardly judge was terribly perplexed. He knew what he ought to do, but he was afraid. He could not in justice condemn Jesus; he dared not release Him. A sudden thought struck him: the people might come to his help. There was a custom by which they were allowed at the time of the Pasch to have any prisoner they should choose released to them. They were beginning now to cry out for the grant of their annual privilege. Pilate saw his chance. He had then in prison a bandit and murderer called Barabbas. The people should choose between this man and Jesus—the people, not the envious priests, the people who would be terrified to see Barabbas let loose again. He mounted the platform in the Lithostrotos and seated himself in his chair of gold and ivory. His soldiers and servants took up their position behind him and the Prisoner was again summoned. All around was the multitude thronging every part of the enclosure.
 
"Whom will you that I release to you," cried the Governor, "Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" At this moment he turned aside to hear a message from his wife:
 
"Have thou nothing to do with that just Man, for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of Him." His Apostles were hiding; His friends in the Sanhedrin, Nicodemus, and Joseph of Arimathea, were afraid to plead His cause; His priests were clamouring for His death. One alone in the holy City was found to speak for Him—the Gentile woman, who, from her splendid apartment, was looking down upon Him with reverence and with pity, Claudia Procula, Pilate's wife.

Her words agitated her husband greatly, and confirmed him in his resolution of saving this Just One from the fury of His enemies. But what might have been done with ease two hours ago was a difficult matter now. The chief priests were steadily making way, even the few minutes' interruption caused by Procula's message had not been lost by them; and when the Governor put his question a second time, the people, whom they had worked up to a state of frenzy, were ready with their reply.

"Whom will you that I release to you," he cried, "Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" A shout as of one voice went up: "Away with this Man and release unto us Barabbas." Astounded and disgusted, Pilate called out:

"What will you, then, that I do to the King of the Jews?" They cried out: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" "Why, what evil hath He done?" demanded the Governor. "I find no cause in Him. I will chastise Him, therefore, and let Him go." But again rose up that howl: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" Weary of the struggle, Pilate called for water and washed his hands before the people, saying: "I am innocent of the blood of this Just Man, look you to it." Oh, the awful shout that went up from the whole multitude there:

"His blood be upon us and upon our children!" In vain did the cowardly judge wash his hands, the guilt was upon his soul. On him depended the life or the death of Jesus Christ. Therefore will all Christians to the end of time say in their Creed: "suffered under Pontius Pilate."

The rage of the people was becoming more and more ungovernable; they were thirsting like wolves for the blood of this innocent Lamb, and now nothing less would satisfy them. Again Pilate yielded, and, to appease them and save Christ without harming himself, he had recourse to the shameful expedient of ordering Him to be scourged. Scourging was a punishment so cruel and so degrading that it was reserved for slaves. The poor victim often died under it, and, in itself, it was far worse than death. Trembling with fear, for He was truly man, our Lord was fastened by His wrists to a low pillar. Then the executioners, standing on a step to deal their blows more surely, struck Him unmercifully with their horrible iron-spiked lashes, which tore the flesh to the very bones. His sacred body was soon one wound; "from the sole of the foot to the top of the head there was no soundness therein, wounds and bruises and swelling sores," as the prophet had said.

And not a friendly face anywhere, none of all He had healed and comforted to help Him now! Gasping for breath, He sank at last to the ground, but only to be dragged off to a fresh torment. He had wanted, it was said, to be a King; well, the soldiers would have the coronation in their barrack room. They tore off His garments, which they had put on roughly after the scourging and which clung to His wounded body; threw over His shoulders an old, scarlet cloak, and put a reed into His hand for a sceptre. Then they plaited a crown of hard, sharp thorns, and beat it down with sticks upon His head and forehead, so that streams of blood trickled through His hair and ran down His face. Then they got into line and marched before Him, kneeling as they passed, and with shouts of laughter and cries of "Hail, King of the Jews!" came up to Him, some spitting on Him, some striking Him on the head, all trying who could ill treat Him most.

Our Lord was a king, and He felt, as only a king could feel, the shame as well as the pain He had to endure. But He sat there bearing all meekly as the prophet had foretold: "I have given my body to the strikers, I have not turned away my face from them that spit upon me." Accustomed as he was to cruel sights, Pilate was struck with horrror and compassion when our Lord appeared again before him. The face so beautiful an hour ago was quite disfigured, swollen, bruised, besmeared with blood. His limbs trembled, He could scarcely stand. The half closed eyes were dim with tears and blood. The scourging must have been horrible, thought the Governor, but at least it has saved His life; a sight so piteous would melt hearts of stone.

There was a balcony built over the archway that overlooked the thronged entrance to the Praetorium. Here, where He could be seen by all below, Pilate placed our Lord, still clothed with the old, red cloak, thrown over His bleeding shoulders, His eyes half blind with pain.

"Behold the Man!" he cried. "I bring Him forth to you that you may know I find no cause in Him."

"Crucify Him ! Crucify Him!" they shouted. "He ought to die because He made Himself the Son of God."

"Son of God!" Pilate was filled with a new and terrible fear. Innocent this Man certainly was. But what if He were something more, what if He were a God! Never, surely, had man borne himself like this Man, with such calm dignity, such invincible patience in the midst of torments and shame. He dared not leave this awful question unsolved. He must see Him again in private. "Whence art Thou?" he asked, when they were again alone. But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate, offended, said to Him:

"Speakest Thou not to Me? Knowest Thou not that I have power to crucify Thee and I have power to release Thee?" Jesus answered:

"Thou shouldst not have any power against Me unless it were given thee from above." It was between ten and eleven o'clock when the poor, irresolute judge again appeared with his Prisoner in the Lithostrotos. He was greeted with the shout:

"If thou release this Man, thou art not Caesar's friend.""Behold your King," was his reply.

"Away with Him! away with Him!" they shouted.

"We have no king but Caesar." Pilate's courage gave way. He had to choose between Caesar and Christ, and to keep Caesar's favour "he released unto them him who for murder and sedition had been cast into prison, whom they had desired." says St. Luke, "but Jesus he delivered up to their will."

All over the City was heard the howl of triumph with which the sentence was received. No time was lost in carrying it out, lest Pilate should repent and recall it. The cross, already prepared, was brought out, and the title Pilate had ordered to be fixed to it: "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."

The procession formed and set out in all haste. First came on horseback the centurion, whose duty it was to preside at the execution and to maintain order in the crowd; next a herald bearing the title of the cross and proclaiming the crimes of the condemned. Then two thieves to be crucified. Last of all, our Lord, weak and tottering, yet laden with His heavy cross. On each side of Him the soldiers who were to fasten Him to the cross and guard Him till death. Running on in front, shouting and laughing, children who had sung "Hosanna!" six days before. All around and behind, an immense multitude hooting and jeering, those nearest throwing mud and stones at Him after the fashion of an Eastern crowd.

What a spectacle was Jerusalem that Friday morning nineteen hundred years ago!—a mass of men, women, and children choking up every thoroughfare, pouring along under the arches that cross the narrow roadways, climbing and descending in endless procession the steep streets of the hill-built City; all going the same way, all talking excitedly, rejoicing that justice had at length overtaken "the seducer" and "blasphemer."' Roofs, windows, doorways, filled with eager sightseers; rabbis and priests hurrying about among the people, in a fever of anxiety lest anything should happen to prevent the execution.

The way to Calvary was long and painful, now up hill, now down, sometimes a series of steps. Our Lord struggled on slowly; three times His little remaining strength gave way, and, gasping for breath, He sank beneath His load. Fearing He would die before He could reach Calvary, the soldiers forced a countryman, Simon of Cyrene, to carry His cross. At a street corner was a little group waiting to see Him pass—His Blessed Mother with the Beloved Disciple, Magdalen, Mary of Cleophas, and Salome. The Mother's face would have moved a heart of stone; but hearts in Jerusalem were harder than stone that day, and there was no more pity for the Mother than for the Son. She saw the ladders, the ropes, the cross. And then, staggering along, she saw Him coming. Their eyes met, and He looked pityingly at her. They did not speak, but He strengthened her breaking heart, that she might be able to endure to the end. There were many hard things to bear on the road to Calvary, but to the tender Heart of Jesus the hardest of all was the sight of His Mother's face.

A little further on He stopped to speak to the weeping women of Jerusalem. All through His life of hardship and persecution women were faithful to Him and showed Him reverence. A woman's voice from the crowd had been raised to bless Him as He preached; women ministered to His wants, received Him into their houses when all other doors were closed against Him, lavished upon Him costly gifts which even His own disciples grudged Him. In His hour of need a woman's voice alone was raised in His defense. And now, heedless of the rough soldiers and the hooting rabble, a crowd of women pressed round Him and filled the air with their lamentations. What wonder that He could not leave them without a parting word! But it was a word of solemn warning, for He knew what was coming upon them and upon the little ones they carried in their arms.

"Daughters of Jerusalem," He said, " weep not for Me, but weep for yourselves and for your children."

About twelve o'clock Calvary was reached. It was a mound outside the walls, the place of public executions —a place of horrors. Our Lord was quite spent. The priests who crowded round Him could see He was dying.

"Quick, quick," they cried, "or it will be too late!" And whilst the soldiers kept the ground clear, He was thrown down upon the cross and ordered to stretch out His arms. His terror was indescribable, for He was truly man. Yet He obeyed without a word. One strong blow, and a long nail was driven through the right hand into the wood. The left arm had to be drawn with ropes to the hole drilled for it in the cross. Then it too was nailed fast. They dragged the feet till the sinews broke and the bones were out of joint. The torture was beyond what we can even think. Yet it was not able to turn His thoughts from us and our needs. He must make haste to appease His Father'sanger, aroused by this awful crime, to pray for His executioners and for all who have crucified or will crucify Him again by sin.

"Father, forgive them" He said, "for they know not what they do" St. John, who was there, tells us that" when they had crucified Him, the soldiers took His garments and made four parts, to every soldier a part, and also His coat. Now, the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout. They said then one to another:

"Let us not cut it, but let us cast lots for it whose it shall be, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, saying: "They have parted My garments among them, and upon My vesture they have cast lots."  And the soldiers indeed did these things."

Meantime the thieves, shrieking and blaspheming, had been crucified, and the three crosses raised into position and firmly fixed with wedges driven in all round. Then at last the enemies of Jesus were satisfied. The priests came up and stood before His cross and cried:

"Yah ! Thou that destroyest the Temple of God and in three days dost rebuild it, save Thy ownself. If Thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross and we will believe." The people came and stared, blaspheming like their rulers. One of the thieves cried out:

"If Thou be Christ, save Thyself and us." But the other rebuked him and said:

"We, indeed, receive the due reward of our deeds, but this Man hath done no evil." And he said to Jesus: "Lord, remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy Kingdom." And Jesus said to him:

"Amen, I say to thee, this day thou shalt be with Me
in Paradise." Our Lord had always loved sinners. And now He gave these poor men grace to know that He who shared their disgrace and was put between them as the most guilty was the long-expected Messiah, the King of Heaven and earth. One of them, alas! only one, opened his heart to grace, was sorry for his sins, took his punishment humbly, and, for the simple remembrance which he asked, received the forgiveness of his sins and the promise of Heaven in the company of his Saviour before the sun had set.

Sinners first, sinners even before His Mother. But His next thought was for her. She was losing all in losing Him; He must provide her with a home. Brave and patient she was standing beside His cross, and, except for her companions and the centurion and his men, almost alone. A strange darkness creeping over the heavens had frightened away the crowds; there was room now by the cross; John had brought her up to it, and she had taken her stand there beside her Son to stay with Him until the end. His eyes were dimming fast. He could scarcely see. But He turned them painfully to her and then to John, and said to her:

"Woman, behold thy son." After that He said to John: " Behold thy Mother." And from that hour the disciple took her to his own. She was given to the Beloved Disciple, and in him to
all disciples. Mary, the Mother of God, became the Mother of us all that day. And now there was darkness over the whole earth, not that of a dark day, but the darkness of night. Our Lord had hung in silence a long time, when, suddenly, a loud cry broke from His lips:

"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" How hard it is to understand that cry! We should have thought His Heavenly Father would have leaned in tenderest pity over that cruel cross and have filled with consolation the soul of His dying Son. It was to win back for His Father our perishing souls that He had come down from Heaven; all His life through He had sought, not His own glory but his Father's; He had done everything His Father asked of Him—why was He forsaken? Because He was being treated as a sinner. Sinners deserve to be forsaken by God in this world and in the next. He would take their place, and suffer this most dreadful pain and punishment in our stead, that we may know we are never, never forsaken by God in this life, no matter how lonely or how sinful we may be.

Of all the pains of crucifixion, the most terrible is thirst. It is so awful that the crucified seem to forget every other, and, as if there were nothing more to ask, beg only of the passers by a drink of water in their intolerable pain. It is loss of blood that brings this thirst. What must His thirst have been after the sweat of blood in the Garden, after the scourging, and now the draining of His sacred body on the cross? But it was not to get relief that Jesus cried:

"I thirst" but that David's prophecy of Him might be fulfilled: "In My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink." On hearing His cry, a soldier ran, and filled a sponge with vinegar from a vessel that stood by, and, fixing it on a reed, put it to His mouth. And now at last, after three hours of agony, the end was come. When He had taken the vinegar Jesus said:

"It is finished." All He had come to do was done—the world redeemed; a perfect example set us in each stage of His blessed Life; every prophecy concerning Him accomplished; His Church founded, by which His followers in every age were to be taught what He had done for them, and how they must save their souls. He had spared Himself in nothing; He had sacrificed for our sakes, all He could give up—home, friends, reputation-- He had loved us to the end—all was finished. And again, crying with a loud Voice, He said:

"Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit." The eyes closed; the head fell forward on the breast; the body sank low on the nails—He was dead. And the veil of the Temple that hid the Holy of Holies from the sight of men was rent from top to bottom. And the earth quaked, and the rocks were rent, and the graves were opened, and many of the bodies of the saints that had slept arose, and, coming out of the tombs after His Resurrection, came into the holy City and appeared to many. And the centurion and they that were with him watching Jesus, having seen the earthquake and the things that were done, were sore afraid, saying:

"Indeed this was the Son of God." And all the multitude of them that were come together to that sight and saw the things that were done returned striking their breasts. In vain did the priests try to quiet the people, Jerusalem was beside itself with terror; the rocking earth, the opening graves, the midnight darkness at midday all this spoke plainly for Him whose lifeless body hung upon the cross. There was no question of Feast or holiday. What they had done to Jesus of Nazareth was the one absorbing thought. All His goodness and gentleness and compassion, His teaching and His healing, came back to them; their cry of long ago:
"He hath done all things well;" their cry six days ago: "Hosanna to the Son of David!" their cry of this day: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him! His blood be upon us and upon our children!" They felt that an awful crime had been committed, and a dreadful sense of the anger of God enkindled against them weighed upon every heart.

Meantime evening was drawing on, and the Mother on Calvary had seen the last outrage to her Son. Soldiers had broken the legs of the thieves and taken the dead bodies away that they might not hang there to cast a gloom over the rejoicings of the morrow. When they saw that Jesus was already dead they did not break His legs, but one of them with a spear opened His side and so fulfilled the prophecy of Zacharias:

"They shall look on Him whom they pierced."  She had no grave wherein to lay Him, but God, she knew, would provide. And, presently, there came up to the cross two men who up to this time had been disciples in secret for fear of the Jews. But now, when all Jerusalem was in fear, their hearts were filled with a new courage, and they had come to give honourable burial to their Master. Joseph of Arimathea had been boldly to Pilate and begged the body of Jesus, which he was going to lay in his own monument in the garden close by. Nicodemus came with him, and they brought fine linen and spices for the burial according to the custom of the Jews. Helped by their servants, they gently took down the sacred Body from the cross and laid it on the ground, the head on the Mother's knee.

The Soul was not there but in Limbo, rejoicing all the holy ones from Adam to the good thief, and turning that place of weary waiting into a very Heaven. The Divinity was with the Soul and with the lifeless Body too, and both were to be worshipped with the honour due to God. The preparations for burial had to be hastened, because of the Sabbath rest, which would begin when the first stars came out. With the help of Magdalen and John, Mary swathed Him in the long linen bands, and covered the white, disfigured face. Then they formed in sad procession and bore Him through the garden into the rocky tomb. There they left Him, and, rolling the great stone to the entrance, went their way.

As darkness fell for the second time that awful day, the disciples left their hiding places and crept back one by one to the Upper Chamber on Mount Sion, which now became their ordinary place of meeting. There they gathered round John to hear all that had befallen the Master since they had left Him in the Garden. They listened in trouble and in shame, poor Peter's tears running fast down his rugged face, all sorrowing over their cowardly desertion of their Master, all envying John who had stood by Him to the last. Then they talked of the past, of the happy days in Galilee, of their nights with Him on the mountain side, of His gentle, patient teaching, of His tenderness to them at the Supper in this very room. And now all was over, and had ended in this! There was nothing more to live for. They remembered how clearly He had foretold to them all that had come to pass—the betrayal, the scourging, the crucifixion; but not one of them called to mind that last word with which He always ended: "the third day He shall rise again."

Far into the night they talked; then, weary and comfortless, broke up the meeting and went back to their homes. On the festival day they were together again in the same place, going over all anew. Others came in, but there was no comfort from any. All was over, they said again and again to one another as they mourned and wept. His friends, then, were weighed down by hopeless sorrow. But what about His enemies? They were rejoicing surely? The priests had promised themselves a quiet evening after their anxious day. All had gone better than they had dared to hope. Through the cowardice of Pilate, insult and torment beyond what they could have desired had been heaped upon "the seducer," and now He was safely in His grave, and all was over. But was it? This, in their hour of triumph, was the question they kept asking themselves. The darkness, and the earthquake, and the rent veil in the Holy Place, were being taken as signs of His innocence and of the wrath of God upon His enemies; and not by the common  people only but by men of note and their fellow Councillors in the Sanhedrim Word had been brought to them how the centurion and his soldiers had proclaimed the Crucified to be the Son of God, and how Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea had given Him honourable burial. Of course they themselves had no further fears. He was certainly dead, and His disciples were far too timid to give cause for alarm. And yet there was that word of His about rebuilding the Temple in three days. What if there should be anything in it! What if anything should happen on the third day! It would be well to guard against such a calamity. No precautions could be too great to prevent a reappearance which would at once mark all His words and works as divine and prove Him to be in very deed what He had given Himself out to be. They would make all safe by applying to Pilate for a guard until the third day.

It was the afternoon of the Sabbath when the Governor was told that a party of priests craved an audience. Tortured by his conscience, and terrified by all that had followed upon the Crucifixion, Pilate was in no mood to receive visitors, and least of all these hateful men who had forced on him the deed of yesterday. Very unwillingly he gave orders for their admission.

"Sir," they said, bowing low before him, "we have remembered that that seducer said while he was yet alive; "After three days I will rise again." Command, therefore, the sepulchre to be guarded until the third day, lest perhaps his disciples come and steal him away, and say to the people that he is risen from the dead, and the last error shall be worse than the first."
"You have a guard, go guard it as you know," was the curt reply. And they, delighted to have gained their point so easily, departed and made all secure by sealing the stone of the Sepulchre and setting four Roman soldiers to guard it.

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture can be found below.

Our Lord had foretold His Passion again and again, but vaguely, naming no time. Now, on the Wednesday of this week, He said to the Twelve:

"You know that after two days shall be the Pasch, and the Son of Man shall be delivered up to be crucified."
His enemies, too, were preparing for the end. On Wednesday the Sanhedrists met at the house of Caiaphas to make their final plans. They dared not take Jesus by force nor in the Temple; for this would provoke the people and draw down their anger upon themselves. If only they could seize Him secretly and get the Romans to make away with Him!
Whilst they were considering how this could be brought about, they were told that a man, one of the common sort, craved admittance. He entered with signs of profound reverence, having come, he said, in obedience to their command that whoever should know where Jesus of Nazareth was should declare it to them.

"What will you give me," he asked, "and I will deliver Him unto you?" He told them that as one of His disciples he was constantly with Him, knew His secrets, and would be able to do the business for them quietly and securely. Bad as these men were, and delighted at this unexpected succour, they could scarcely disguise their contempt for the traitor. They accepted his services, however, and for thirty pieces of silver, about $19.50 of our money, he agreed to deliver his Master into their hands as soon as he should find a convenient opportunity when there was no one about to help Him. Thus were the words of the prophet Zacharias fulfilled:

"And they weighed for my wages thirty pieces of silver, a handsome price that I was prized at by them." How had Judas come to this? Because of that one evil passion which he did not try to conquer. His fall was not sudden. At the time of his call he would have been horrified at the thought of such a crime. But his heart had hardened gradually, and at last, when temptation came, he betrayed and sold for a few pieces of silver the Master for whom he had left all things.

Whilst Judas in Jerusalem was plotting with the Sanhedrists, our Lord in the quiet home of Bethany was preparing His disciples for His coming Passion and Death. Probably His Blessed Mother was there, too. He had told her what was to happen to Him, and though her heart was breaking, she did not try like Peter to save Him from suffering and a cruel death, but bravely and generously accepted the Will of God.

On Thursday morning the disciples came to Jesus, saying:

"Where wilt Thou that we prepare for Thee to eat the Pasch? "Judas quietly drew near to hear the answer. Jesus said:

"Go ye into the city, and there shall meet you a man carrying a pitcher of water. Follow him into the house where he entereth in. And you shall say to the good man of the house: The Master saith to thee, Where is the guest-chamber where I may eat the Pasch with My disciples? And he will show you a large dining-room furnished, and there prepare." Judas was baffled, but, as keeper of the purse, he would probably be sent, and he stood forward ready.

No, Peter and John were to go, and he was foiled again. That Supper Room was to be the scene of holiest mysteries; our Lord was not going to have them disturbed nor the house of His entertainer invaded by Judas' armed band. At His own time and in another place He would suffer Himself to be taken, and in the meantime the traitor was kept in the dark.

Entering the City, Peter and John see the man with the pitcher on his head, and follow him, not without difficulty, through the narrow, thronged streets. Jews out of every nation under heaven, nearly three millions of them, are here—too many by far to be housed within the walls, though every house is taxed to its utmost. Late comers are camping out on Olivet and all the country round as far as Bethany. What variety of costume, and what a Babel of tongues! Here, in bright armour, come a body of Roman soldiers, for the Governor has come from Caesarea as usual and taken up his quarters in the Praetorium. And in the fortress of Antonia, overlooking the Temple Courts, is a strong garrison of troops ready to swoop down upon the people at the least sign of disturbance the Pasch is wont to be a troublesome time. There go some courtly Herodians and wealthy Sadducees and despised publicans. Over there, above the heads of the crowd, appear the high turbans of rabbis. Priests, traders, Gentile strangers, slaves—through what a motley throng the two Apostles made their way!

They have come to a house on Mount Sion in the south-western quarter of the City. Here their guide stops, and they go in and give their message. The owner's face brightens at the first words: "The Master saith," and whilst Peter goes off to buy the lamb, he helps John to make everything ready in the upper chamber which he puts at our Lord's disposal. The Apostles wonder why he is so willing—he is a secret disciple, perhaps. Peter buys the victim, a lamb without blemish of a year old, and takes it to the Temple, where it is killed. In preparing it for cooking the greatest care must be taken that no bone shall be broken. This lamb is a type of Him of whom the prophet had said:

"They shall not break a bone of Him." Before being roasted it is fastened to two pieces of wood, the front feet being stretched out in the form of a cross. When Peter returns he finds all ready—on the tables the thin cakes of unleavened bread, the bitter herbs, the wine mixed with water, and a red sauce called charoseth. Round the low tables, forming a semi-circle, John had so arranged the couches that he would be on one side of his Master and Judas on the other, at one end of the tables, Peter opposite at the other end, the rest in pairs around, as he knew they would like. Pitchers of water and basins for washing hands were about the room, and the whole was lit up by festive lamps.

As evening drew on Jesus came with the other Apostles. When they had taken their places He said to them:

"With desire I have desired to eat this Pasch with you before I suffer." Then John, as the youngest present, asked the meaning of this night's solemn service, and our Lord told the story of the deliverance from Egypt, of the sprinkling of the blood of the Paschal Lamb, of the Manna in the desert, and of the lifting up of the Brazen Serpent, by which their fathers of old were saved from death. As He looked upon the lamb stretched crosswise before Him, He thought of the morrow, when, after fifteen hundred years of types, the fulfilment
would come, and the Lamb of God by His Death would take away the sins of the world.

During the Paschal Supper Jesus rose from the table, laid aside His upper garment, and, having taken a towel, girded Himself. Then, pouring water into a basin, He came and knelt before Peter to wash his feet. Peter, all amazement, drew them up, exclaiming:

"Lord, dost Thou wash my feet ?" Jesus said to him: "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." Peter said to Him:

"Thou shalt never wash my feet." Jesus answered him:

"If I wash thee not thou shalt have no part with Me." Peter said to Him: "Lord, not only my feet but also my hands and my head." Jesus said to him:

"He that is washed needeth not but to wash his feet, but is clean wholly. And you are clean, but not all." Then after He had washed their feet and taken His garments, being sat down again, He said to them:

"Know you what I have done to you ? You call Me Master and Lord, and you say well, for so I am. If then I, being your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example that as I have done to you, so you do also." Then He said to them sorrowfully:

"Amen, amen, I say to you, one of you shall betray Me."
 
The disciples in consternation looked upon one another, "doubting of whom He spoke" says St. John. And being very much troubled they began to say to Him one by one:

"Is it I, Lord?" And He answering said: "One of the Twelve whose hand is with Me on the table, he shall betray Me. The Son of Man indeed goeth as it is written of Him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man shall be betrayed; it were better for him if that man had not been born."

Terrified at these awful words, the disciples were silent. But presently Judas, afraid of being noticed if he did not ask with the rest, said:

"Is it I, Rabbi?" Jesus answered him in a whisper: "Thou hast said it."

How careful our Lord must have been of the good name of Judas_, that not one of his fellow-disciples thought of suspecting him. Even now the miserable man was not afraid of his Master betraying him, or he would never have dared to put that question. What would have happened if Peter or the sons of Zebedee had heard those words: "Thou hast said it?"

The Heart of Jesus was wrung with anguish at the thought of the misery to which one of His chosen Twelve was rushing. Again and again during the supper He speaks of the betrayal, now in tender, now in terrible words, striving by fear when love had failed to save him before it is too late. But now for a brief space the heavy cloud that overshadowed
them all seemed lifted. For, as they looked upon the Master, they saw His countenance glow with a love and fervour so intense as to appear transfigured.

He had cleared a little space in front of Him and taken into His holy and venerable hands one of the loaves of unleavened bread. And, whilst they looked on in wonder, He lifted up His eyes to Heaven, and, giving thanks, blessed, and broke, and gave to them, saying:

"Take ye and eat, this is My Body which is given for you. Do this for a commemoration of Me." And they received from His hand what He gave His true Body under the appearance of bread. Here, then, was the meaning of those mysterious words at Capharnaum:

"The bread that I will give is My flesh for the life of the world." They did not understand even now, but He had the words of eternal life; they believed, and adored.

During the Paschal supper three cups of wine mixed with water were passed round from one guest to another. Standing before Jesus was the third cup, "the chalice of benediction," which had to be taken before the last hymns were sung. Jesus took it into His hands, and, giving thanks, blessed it and passed it to them, saying:

"Drink ye all of this. For this is My Blood of the New Testament which shall be shed for many unto the remission of sins." And again they received what He gave them—His true Blood under the appearance of wine. They received not more than before, not more than we receive in Holy Communion, but under another appearance. And because it was Himself whole and entire, together with His Body and Blood were His Soul and Divinity, all
that He has and is. Truly might the Beloved Disciple say of Jesus, instituting this Sacrament of Love, that "having loved His own, who were in the world. He loved them unto the end." Love, even such as His, can go no further. It is because it has gone so far that men refuse to believe.

The first Mass had been said; the first Consecration wrought; the first Communicants fed in the greatest of the Sacraments with the true Bread from Heaven; the first priests ordained. For Christ, as David had foretold, was to be a Priest, not once only, on Calvary, but "for ever," a Priest like Melchisedech, whose offering was bread and wine. The New Sacrifice was to be the Sacrifice of the Gentiles, as the prophet Malachy had foretold, offered in every land, at every hour, from the rising to the setting of the sun, not lessening but magnifying the first and bloody Sacrifice from which its virtue flows. Where but in the Sacrifice of the Mass shall we find these prophecies fulfilled? To carry on His office when He was gone, the great High- Priest had to ordain other priests, and this He did in these words:

"Do this in commemoration of Me." With bowed heads the first Communicants made their thanksgiving. When they looked again into their Master's face, the glow of exultation with which He had made us the greatest of His gifts had passed away, and once more there had settled on His brow the anguish of a friend betrayed. Peter could bear the dreadful suspense no longer. Being directly opposite to John, he beckoned to him and said:

"Who is it of whom He speaketh ?" John, leaning back on his couch, was resting his head on his Master's breast. He looked up into His face and said:

"Lord, who is it?" Jesus answered: "He it is to whom I shall reach bread dipped." And when He had moistened the bread, He gave it to Judas Iscariot. Then, seeing every warning lost on the traitor, He said to him:

"What thou doest do quickly." No one at the table, St. John tells us, knew why this was said. They thought our Lord had sent Judas to buy something, or to give an alms to the poor. Judas at once rose and went out. And it was night. The white light of the Paschal moon shone into the room and fell full on the Master's face. It was pale and troubled. And its trouble was reflected on all the faces round. The disciples were so accustomed to lean on Him, to cast all their care on Him, that they could only see with blank dismay the cloud upon that brow hitherto serene in every storm. A dim apprehension of coming sorrow, of parting from Him who was all in all to them, weighed heavily on them, and they looked at Him helplessly for comfort. He did not disappoint them. Never before had His words been so tender:

"Little children," He said, looking round upon them, "yet a little while I am with you. You shall seek Me, but whither I go you cannot come." Peter said to Him:

"Lord, whither goest Thou?" Jesus answered: "Whither I go thou canst not follow Me now, but thou shalt follow hereafter." Peter said to Him:

"Why cannot I follow Thee now? I will lay down my life for Thee." Jesus answered him:

"Wilt thou lay down thy life for Me? Amen, amen, I say to thee, the cock shall not crow till thou deny Me thrice." Peter deny his Master! The disciples were astonished. Of all the surprises to-night this was the greatest. But, if Peter is to fall away, some one else must be first. Who will it be? And at once they begin the old dispute—which of them is the greatest. But Peter, in spite of his fall, was not to lose the place to which his Master had raised him. Our Lord went on:

"Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to have you that he may sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not, and thou being once converted confirm thy brethren." Peter said to Him:

"Lord, I am ready to go with Thee both to prison and to death." And He said: "

I say to thee, Peter, the cock shall not crow this day till thou thrice deniest that thou knowest Me."

Every act, every word of our Blessed Lord's at the Last Supper speaks of love. He is taking leave of His dearly beloved disciples. He is giving them His farewell instructions. And now He gives them that Commandment which, because it is so dear to His Heart, He calls His own. A new commandment I give you that you love one another. This is My commandment that you love one another as I have loved you. By this shall all men know that you are My disciples, if you have love one for another. Let not your heart be troubled. I go to prepare a place for you. And I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you also may be. And I will ask the Father to give you another Comforter. Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you. You now indeed have sorrow, but I will see you again and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man shall take from you."

Then, lifting up His eyes to Heaven, He prayed for them to His Father that they might be kept safe amid the dangers of the world, and that where He was going they too might come and be with Him. After this they said a hymn and went out. It was late, but the moon was flooding the City with light. The Temple roof was one sheet of silver. They crossed the brook Cedron, and began to go up the Mount of Olives. And Jesus said to them:

"You will all be scandalized in Me this night, for it is written: "I will strike the shepherd and the sheep shall be scattered. But after I shall be risen again, I will go before you into Galilee." Peter said to Him:

"Although all shall be scandalized in Thee, yet not I." Jesus said to him: "Amen, amen, I say to thee, today, even in this night, before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny Me thrice." But he spoke the more vehemently:

"Although I should die together with Thee, I will not deny Thee." And in like manner also said they all."

A few paces above the brook was a garden called Gethsemane. It was a quiet place, and our Lord often went there to pray; sometimes He spent the whole night in prayer beneath the olive trees. On this night He left eight of the Apostles at the gate, and took inside only Peter, James and John.

"My soul is sorrowful even unto death," He said to these three, and He begged them like good and faithful friends not to leave Him alone in His trouble, but to watch and pray with Him. Bright moonlight lit up the Garden, but beneath the trees all was dark and gloomy. Our Lord went forward alone and knelt down. Presently He fell on His face and prayed in an agony of terror that He might be spared the awful sufferings that were at hand.

"Abba, Father," He said, " all things are possible to Thee; remove this chalice from Me; but not what I will, but what Thou wilt." He had offered Himself to take away the sins of the world, and now they all came distinctly before Him, every sin and every sinner. And He was to be punished as if He had done all those wicked things. He saw the punishment—the spitting, the scourging, the nailing to the cross, the hanging there for three long hours. He saw, too, that all He was going to suffer would be of no use to many souls that He loved. The pain of all this was so dreadful that He went to His three disciples to get a little comfort from them. But they were asleep! Gently waking them, He said to Peter:

"What ! Could you not watch one hour with Me? Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation." Again He went and prayed saying the same words! His trouble of mind became so awful that it was like the agony of a dying man. He was bathed in a sweat of blood, which, after soaking His garments, trickled down upon the ground. Then an Angel came from Heaven to comfort Him by showing Him the good that from His bitter pains would come to us. And He said:

"My Father, if this chalice cannot pass away unless I drink it, Thy Will be done." He did not give up prayer on this dreadful night, but taught us by His example to pray more earnestly when we are in trouble; for "being in an agony He prayed the longer."

About midnight lights appeared behind the trees, and our Lord went to rouse His disciples, who had fallen asleep again. "Rise" He said, "behold, he that will betray Me is at hand." A band of soldiers and servants from the chief priests, with lanterns, torches and weapons, were coming stealthily into the Garden, led by a man who looked about here and there as if in search of someone. He had given the party a sign, saying:

"Whomsoever I shall kiss, that is He; lay hold on Him and lead Him away carefully." And, going up to Jesus, he said:

"Hail, Rabbi !" and kissed Him. Jesus said to him:

"Friend, whereto art thou come? Judas, dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?" It was the last warning—a tender word, and a solemn one—and both thrown away. Then, knowing all things that were to come upon Him, He went forward and said to the soldiers:

"Whom seek ye?" They answered: "Jesus of Nazareth." Jesus answered:

"I am He." As soon as He had said this they went backward Judas, the soldiers, the priests—and fell on their faces before Him. He let them rise, and asked again:

"Whom seek ye?" They answered:

"Jesus of Nazareth." Jesus answered: "I have told you that I am He; if, therefore, you seek Me, let these go their way." He pointed to His disciples, and forbade the soldiers to touch them. Then His enemies came up and bound Him fast.

"Lord, shall we strike with the sword?" cried Peter. And without waiting for an answer, he drew a sword he had with him, and striking one of the servants of the High-Priest, cut off his right ear. But Jesus said:

"Put up thy sword into its place. The chalice which My Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?" And bending forward, He touched the servant's ear and healed him.

Then the disciples all leaving Him fled away. But Peter and John, ashamed of their cowardice, soon returned and followed their Master as He was led to the palace of the High-priest. This was Caiaphas, though many of the Jews who would not acknowledge a man appointed by the Romans regarded Annas, his father-in-law, as the High-priest. The palaces of the two were separated by a courtyard only. All was astir there when the soldiers arrived with the Prisoner. Annas, a cruel and wicked old man, the chief contriver of the plots against our Lord, had sent for Him that he might enjoy the sight of his enemy now helpless and humbled; and at the house of Caiaphas the members of the Sanhedrin were arriving for the trial that was to be held there immediately.

Annas questioned our Blessed Lord about His doctrines and His disciples, in the hope of getting Him to say something that could be turned against Him. Our Lord who saw into his heart bade him ask those who had heard His teaching. On this, a servant of Annas, thinking to please his Master, struck Jesus a heavy blow on the face, saying:

"Answerest Thou the High-priest so?" Jesus said gently: "If I have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil, but if well, why strikest thou Me ?"

The Sanhedrists were now assembled at the house of Caiphas, and seated in a semi-circle on cushions, Caiphas, as president, on a platform. Our Lord was brought in by His guards and placed standing before His judges for trial. It was a strange trial, for the death of the Prisoner was already decreed, and all that was wanted was some evidence against Him to give an appearance of justice to the sentence. But His life had been so holy that there was no hope of finding anything amiss in it; false witnesses were therefore brought in, but their testimony did not agree. Jesus heard all and was silent. The prophet Isaias had said of Him:

"He shall be dumb as a lamb before His shearer, and He shall not open His mouth." At length Caiaphas, flushed with anger, rose up and exclaimed:

"Answerest Thou nothing to the things that are laid to Thy charge by these men?" But He answered nothing. What was to be done? How could He be made to speak? The crafty president sees a way. He will put a question to which the Accused will be bound to answer, and on that answer He can be condemned. See them standing there face to face—the Highpriest in his robes of office, the Son of God with His hands bound behind His back.

"I adjure Thee by the Living God," said Caiaphas, "that Thou tell us if Thou be the Christ, the Son of God." Jesus said to him:  "Thou hast said it. And, hereafter, you shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of the power of God and coming in the clouds of Heaven." This was all they wanted. Transported, as it were, with holy indignation, the High-priest seized His garment and tore it from the neck down.

"He hath blasphemed!" he cried; "behold, you have heard the blasphemy; what think you?" And they answering said : " He is guilty of death."

A disgraceful scene of insult and cruelty followed, in which the priests themselves seem to have set the example. "The men that held Him mocked Him and struck Him. And they did spit on His face and buffeted Him. And they blindfolded Him and smote His face with the palms of their hands, saying:

"Prophesy unto us, O Christ ! who is he that struck Thee?" While all this was going on before Annas and Caiaphas, another scene was taking place in the courtyard below where the servants were waiting to hear the result of the trial. The night was cold and they had made a fire and were standing round it warming themselves. Peter, who had come into the court, was warming himself with the rest. The light was full upon his face, and the portress, who had let him in, after looking at him attentively, said:

"Thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth." Peter was frightened and denied before them all:

"Woman, I know Him not." And the cock crew. A little later another maid saw him and said to the standers by:

"This man was with Jesus of Nazareth." Again he denied and with an oath:

"I know not the Man." An oath this time, and his Master is "the Man." About an hour after, when it had got about among the servants that one of the disciples of the Galilean had dared to come in amongst them, they came about Peter and said:

"Surely thou art one of them, for even thy speech doth betray thee." Even the commoner sort in Jerusalem made fun of the pronunciation and talk of the north country folk, and Peter had only to open his mouth to prove that he was unmistakably from Galilee. Poor Peter, he had been getting more and more frightened. Thoroughly terrified now, he began to curse and to swear, saying:

"I know not this Man of whom you speak." The cock crew again, and at the same moment our Lord passed through the court. He was suffering cruelly from the hands of His tormentors, but more cruelly from the lips of His chosen disciple who had denied Him. Yet there was no indignation in His Heart. Rather was It full of pity for one who after all had followed Him into danger out of love. And the Lord turning looked on Peter. And Peter remembered the word that Jesus had said unto him:

"Before the cock crow twice thou shalt thrice deny Me." And, going forth, he wept bitterly.

We have come to the last week of our Lord's Life. The Evangelists could not set down all the wonders of that Life, for St. John tells us every day was filled with marvels. But when they come to this last week they follow their Lord, as it were, with slower and more reverent step, giving a fuller and more minute account of His actions day by day.

There are many reasons for this. It is not only that in this week He accomplished the great work He came to do; redeemed us from sin and hell; reconciled us with His Father; opened the gates of Heaven to us, and set up the New Law, the New Sacraments, the New Priesthood in place of the Old; but it is because in this week the tenderness of His love comes out more wonderfully than ever. His words and acts and prayers are so brimming over with love and sweetness that the Evangelists could not bear to pass them
over in silence. We owe these blessed writers more for their account of this week than for all beside. And we should come to the history of these last days of our dear Lord's Life on earth with hearts more reverent, more full of love and gratitude than hitherto, that we may believe and understand and feel about them as is pleasing to Him and helpful to our own souls.

The day after the supper in Simon's house was chosen by Christ for His solemn entry into the City in which such great things were to be done. Accompanied by the Twelve and by a crowd going up for the Feast, He left Bethany. When they had reached Bethphage, a village on the eastern slope of Olivet, He sent two of His disciples, saying to them:

"Go ye into the village that is over against you, and immediately you shall find an ass tied and a colt with her, on which no man hath ever sitten; loose them and bring them to Me. And if any man shall say anything to you, say ye that the Lord hath need of them, and forthwith he will let them go."

"Now all this was done," says St. Matthew, " that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet saying: "Tell ye the daughter of Sion: Behold, thy King cometh to thee meek, and sitting on an ass,, and a colt, the foal of her that is used to the yoke." Every prophecy concerning Him was clearly before the mind of our Blessed Saviour, and, at the proper time, He fulfilled each even to its smallest circumstances. This exact fulfilment of prophecy was one of the marks by which the Jews ought to have known Him to be the Messiah, but they would not notice what they did not want to see.

The disciples found the colt and its mother tied to the gate just as Jesus had said, and they began to loose them.

"What are you doing loosing the colt ? " cried out the owners. They answered as Jesus had told them, and the owners let the animals go. The disciples brought them to Jesus and laid their long cloaks upon the colt by way of trappings, and He sat upon it. The procession formed about Him and began its march, the solemn entry of the Messiah-King into His capital, solemn and yet so humble, the King riding on a little creature not yet broken in, and followed, not by the royal guards, but by a joyous throng, men, women, and children, chiefly the poor, who crowded round Him and filled the air with their shouts of gladness. "A very great multitude" we are told, "spread their garments in the way, and others cut boughs from the trees and strewed them in the way."

When, following the steep footpath . up the Mount, they had reached the summit, they halted, for another multitude from Jerusalem was making its way up the western slope. News had spread through the City that Jesus of Nazareth, who had raised Lazarus to life, was on His way thither, and the people were pouring out to meet Him and take Him back in triumph. The two multitudes met and mingled at that point of the road from which the City first bursts full on the view. Jerusalem in all its majesty appeared beneath, and at the sight the whole concourse of His disciples, they that went before and they that followed, began with joy to praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works they had seen, saying:

"Blessed be the King who cometh in the name of the Lord, peace in Heaven and glory on high! Hosanna to the Son of David ! Blessed be the Kingdom of our father David that cometh, Hosanna in the highest!"

There were some Pharisees in the vast procession, and at their old occupation of faultfinding. Having tried in vain to stop the shouts of joy, they made their way up to our Lord and said to Him:

"Master, rebuke Thy disciples." He said to them : "I say to you that if these shall hold their peace, the stones will cry out." The disciples were beside themselves with delight.

"It has come at last!" they said to one another as they walked proudly by their Master's side. And right heartily did they wave their palms and join in the cry:

"Blessed he the Kingdom of our father David that cometh, Hosanna in the highest!"

There, on the summit of Olivet, stood the procession facing the City. Palaces, towers, battlements, gardens, lay bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun; and, towering above all, appeared the snowy marble and glittering gold of the gorgeous Temple, the pride and the joy of every child of Israel. The people were bringing her King, her long-expected Messiah, to Jerusalem, and at the sight of the City rising there in all her glory, their joyous shouts broke out afresh. And the King Himself—how did He look upon Jerusalem? St. Luke tells us:

"And when He drew near the City He wept over it, saying: "If thou also hadst known and that in this thy day the things that are to thy peace! but now they are hidden from thy eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, and thy enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and straiten thee on every side, and beat thee flat to the ground and thy children who are in thee; and they shall not leave in thee a stone upon a stone, because thou hast not known the time of thy visitation."

He knew what was coming—that in five days He would be hanging in agony on a cross outside the walls, forsaken by all. But it was not this that brought the tears to His eyes. It was the misery of the guilty City that was about to reject Him and pray that His Blood might be upon her and upon her children. He looked forward forty years and thought of the horrors of that awful siege when, at just such a Pasch as this, the Roman army would close round the walls and the starving millions within; when the Temple would be burnt to the ground; when there would not be wood enough for the numbers to be crucified, nor purchasers for the thousands sold into slavery. He knew what was coming upon poor Jerusalem, and His tears were for her. Amid cries of joy and waving of branches, the children running on before shouting

"Hosanna, blessed be He that cometh in the name of the Lord!" He entered Jerusalem. And the whole City was moved. Men, women and children swarmed on to the roofs and out into the streets to ask:

"Who is this ?" Those who were bringing in our Lord answered triumphantly:

"This is Jesus, the Prophet of Nazareth." Under their breath the Pharisees muttered to one another: "Do you see that we prevail nothing? behold the whole world has gone after Him."

The crowds dispersed, our Lord dismounted, and followed by the Twelve entered the Temple. Let us see Him going in at the Beautiful Gate. His form is slender and delicate. His hair falls over His shoulders beneath the handkerchief that binds His brow and covers the back of His neck. Over the tunic, a long robe girt in at the waist, is a wide cloak, or abba, blue bordered and tasselled at the corners. It falls over one shoulder, reaching nearly to the bottom of the tunic. The sandals, much worn, are merely soles strapped to the feet. Everything is simple, poor, travel-stained. Yet He is truly kingly as He moves forward among the throng. In His look, His bearing, His gestures, there is a marvellous mingling of majesty and humility. The charm of His Person, the graciousness
of His ways, captivates the people and attracts even the little children, who crowd about Him. Yet those who love Him most worship Him with deepest awe. Never have men felt as they feel in the Presence of this Man. And no wonder, for He is not only truly Man—He is God! Still singing "Hosanna!" which means "Save now!" the children followed Him into the Temple.

They called upon the Levite children of the Temple choir to join them, and presently there rose up from the marble Court into the blue sky overhead the exquisite voices of the little choristers, welcoming our Blessed Lord in the Hallel, or hymn of praise they had ready for the Messiah's coming. The priests and the rulers disowned Him, but the children received Him with songs of gladness. Sweeter far and more pleasing to God than all the solemn chants of the Temple's magnificent worship, was that afternoon's Benediction service of the little children. He needed their comfort, for His Heart was saddened by the same sights and sounds that had dishonoured His Father's House three years before. Up from the Court of the Gentiles came the cries of traders, the bleating of sheep, the wrangling of the money-changers—all the noise of a market, and a greater uproar than usual, for on this day the Paschal lamb was chosen, to be kept apart till the hour of sacrifice. Our Lord said nothing. He had come to the Temple to offer Himself as the Lamb chosen from all eternity for sacrifice, and He would spend these last peaceful hours in the Temple Courts quietly with the children.

The blind and the lame came to Him and He healed them as the children stood around. Then, as evening fell, He went out to Bethany with the Twelve. The short triumph was over. 'Not one out of those multitudes who had hailed Him as Messiah in the morning had offered Him a shelter for the night. He climbed the path down which the procession had passed a few hours before, and came to the house at Bethany and was welcomed there.

Early next morning, Monday, on His way to Jerusalem, He saw a fig-tree in the distance. He went up to it, for He was hungry. And finding nothing on it but leaves, He said to it:

"May no fruit grow on thee any more for ever."  Coming into the Temple, He found in the Court of the Gentiles the same disgraceful scene as before—oxen, sheep and lambs huddled together by thousands, or being dragged hither and thither, traders shouting to one another, pilgrims from distant countries disputing in many languages with the money-changers.

Suddenly, above the confusion and the din, was
heard a loud, clear Voice:

"My House shall be called the House of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves." Every head was turned to the Speaker. He stood upon a step looking down upon the scene. There was no scourge in His hand now; the Divine majesty that shone in His human face—this did the work of cleansing. The birdsellers caught up their cages as best they might; the money-changers, the traders of every kind, fled before Him, content to drop and lose their wares rather than meet the indignation of that glance. Not a word had the priests to say in self-defence. It was they who allowed this unholy trading, it was to them the profits went. They were stung to the quick by being thus disgraced, and consulted together how they might destroy Jesus. If only He in His turn could be put to shame before the people, their credit might be restored. And at last they hit on a plan for bringing this about.

Everyone knew that the scribes, whose task it was to interpret the Law, were only ordained after long study, and empowered to teach by the delivery of a tablet and a key. Now, where had this carpenter of Nazareth studied? Let Him answer that and show His tablet and key before the people. If He should avoid this trap, they had another ready from which it would be impossible to escape. Some of the Herodians should go up to Him when He was teaching and pretend to have a difficulty of conscience about the tribute which every Jew had to pay to Caesar. Was it lawful to pay it or not? If He said it was not lawful, they would at once give Him over to Pontius Pilate and to the vengeance of Rome. If He should say it was lawful, the people would turn upon Him as a traitor to His country. Now, then, they had Him safe. They were so delighted with their scheme that they were impatient for His hour of teaching on the morrow.

As our Lord with the Twelve came over Olivet on Tuesday morning they passed the fig-tree, or rather the place where it had stood, for it was withered away to the very roots. "And the disciples seeing it wondered," says St. Matthew. Our Lord entered the Temple and made His way through the crowd already waiting for Him to the Court of the Women, the common meeting place of worshipers. He was walking in one of the Porches there when a number of chief priests, scribes and ancients were seen advancing. They were Sanhedrists, and the people respectfully made way before them. Coming up to Jesus, they addressed Him in a lofty tone:

"Tell us by what authority Thou dost these things, and who hath given Thee this authority." Jesus answering said to them:

"I also will ask you one word, which, if you shall tell Me, I will also tell you by what authority I do these things.

"Was John the Baptist a prophet sent from God or not?" They were silent and thought within themselves: If we say he was a prophet from God He will ask: Why, then, did you not believe in Him? If we say he was no prophet we are afraid of the people. And they said:
"We know not." He said to them: "Neither do I tell you by what authority I do these things."

He went on to tell them a parable of a householder who sent servant after servant to the husbandmen in charge of his vineyard to receive the fruits from them. And the husbandmen beat, and wounded, and killed them. Having yet one son most dear to him, He also sent him unto them last of all, saying : "I will send my beloved son; it may be when they see him they will reverence him." And the husbandmen said: "This is the heir, let us kill him and we shall have his inheritance." And, taking him, they cast him forth out
of the vineyard and killed him.

After this our Lord told the parable of a king who made a marriage for his son, and those who were invited would not come. So the king gave their places to others. His enemies knew that in these parables He spoke of them, and they were filled with rage; but the people were there and they could do nothing. A party of the Herodians now came up, and one of them, bowing low before Him, said:

"Master, we know that Thou art a true speaker and teachest the way of God in truth. Tell us, therefore, is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar or not?" But Jesus, knowing their wickedness, said: "Why do ye tempt Me, ye hyprocrites? Show Me the coin of the tribute." And they offered Him a penny. Jesus said to them:

"Whose image and superscription is this?" They say to Him: "Caesar's." He said to them: "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's." What could they say? By their own law he was the owner of a country whose image and inscription were found on its coins. They were so filled with wonder at His answer, that they could neither reply nor hide their confusion. The best thing to do was to get away as fast as possible. And this they did. Thus did His enemies come up one after another, to have their plots overthrown as easily as a child's house of cards. The people watched Him with admiration. They saw Him interrupted continually in His teaching by His malignant foes, yet bearing Himself with a royal dignity and calmness that neither insult nor cowardly cunning could disturb.

Will the people keep faithful to Him when the hour of trial comes? We shall see. Our Lord had borne long and patiently with the Pharisees. But, seeing that they were hardening their hearts more and more and doing grievous harm to others, He at length pronounced against them those terrible condemnations which make us tremble as we hear them. Again and again came the fearful words:

"Woe to you Scribes and Pharisees, hyprocrites!" He rebuked their pride, their avarice, their cunning. He would still send His servants to teach them and warn them of the judgments that were at hand, but they would persecute and scourge and crucify them.

"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" He cried, "thou that killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent to thee, how often would I have gathered together thy children as the hen gathers her chickens under her wings and thou wouldst not. Behold, your house shall be left to you desolate. For I say to you you shall not see Me henceforth till you say:

"Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord." Leaving the rulers, He went and sat down near the Treasury and watched the people dropping their offerings into the trumpet-shaped chests that stood there. Many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she cast in two mites, which make a farthing. And, calling His disciples together, He said to them:

"Amen, I say to you this poor widow hath cast in more than all. For all they did cast in of their abundance, but she of her want hath cast in all she had, even her whole living."

He took His final leave of the Temple that Tuesday. The disciples, struck by His sadness, followed Him in silence down into the valley and across the brook Cedron and up the slope of Olivet. But He could not leave the city without another farewell glance. He loved Jerusalem, and His heart was breaking at the thought of what it was, what it might have been, what in a few
years it was to come to.
Arrived at the summit of the Mount, He turned and faced the City. So beautiful it looked in the quiet glow of evening, its massive walls, palaces, terraces, the snowy colonnades and golden roofing of the Temple, all lit up by the setting sun, that one of the disciples said to Him:

"Master, behold what manner of stones and what buildings are here." And Jesus answering said to him:

"Seest thou all these great buildings? There shall not be left a stone upon a stone that shall not be thrown down." He seated Himself on a ledge of rock facing the Temple, and seemed lost in thought. Peter, Andrew, James, and John came and asked Him apart:

"Tell us when shall these things be, and what shall be the sign of Thy coming and of the end of the world?"

Then He told them what would happen before the destruction of Jerusalem and before the Last Day. The way to Heaven for His followers would be through troubles of every kind.

"But he that shall persevere to the end," said Jesus, " he shall be saved." As the awful Day of Judgment draws near, there will be signs in the sun and in the moon and in the stars, earthquakes and pestilence and famine, and roaring of the sea and of the waves, men withering away for fear and expectation of what shall come upon the whole world.

And yet, in spite of these signs and terrors, the Great Day will come suddenly at last and find men in the midst of their enjoyments and sins. Like a flash of lightning, seen by all, startling all—so will He come. His servants must be always ready, not so much for the Last Day of the world as for the day of their death, which will be the Last Day for each one of us. He told them the parable of the Ten Virgins who had to meet the Bridegroom with lighted lamps. And five were foolish and took no oil with them. And when at midnight came the sudden cry:

"Behold, the Bridegroom cometh, go ye forth to meet Him !" they were not ready and were shut out.

"Watch ye, therefore" He said, " for you know not when the lord of the house cometh. And what I say to you I say to all: "Watch!" He went on to tell them what will happen at the end of the world when He comes to judge all men:

"They shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of Heaven with much power and majesty. And He shall send His Angels with a trumpet and a great voice; and they shall gather together His elect from the four winds, from the farthest parts of the heavens to the utmost bounds of them. And all nations shall be gathered together before Him, and He shall separate them one from another as the shepherd separateth the sheep from the goats, and He shall set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats on His left. Then shall the King say to them that shall be on His right hand:

"Come, ye blessed of My Father, possess you the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." Then He shall say to them also that shall be on His left hand:

"Depart from Me, you cursed, into everlasting fire which was prepared for the devil and his angels. And these shall go into everlasting punishment, but the just into life everlasting."

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture can be found below.

At last His hour was come. It was time to go up to Jerusalem for the offering of the Great Sacrifice. Before setting out, He took the disciples apart and
said to them:
"Behold, we go up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man shall be betrayed to the chief priests and the scribes, and they shall condemn Him to death, and
shall deliver Him to the Gentiles to be mocked, and
scourged, and crucified, and the third day He shall
rise again."
St. Luke tells us that " they understood none of these things." Accustomed to see Him followed by admiring crowds, untouched by the hands raised to stone Him, and by the officers sent to make Him prisoner, they would not believe that harm could come to Him. On the contrary, they thought He was going up to Jerusalem to take possession of His throne and begin His glorious reign as the Messiah-King. He had promised them that they too should sit on thrones. It was time to remind Him of this and to secure the first places in the new Kingdom. So at least thought James and John. They slipped away from the rest and returned presently with their mother, who came with them to our Lord, adoring and asking something of Him:

"Master," they said, " we desire that whatsoever we shall ask Thou wouldst do it for us." "What would you that I should do for you ?" He replied.

"Grant to us that we may sit, the one on Thy right hand and the other on Thy left in Thy glory." What a time for such a petition! When He had scarcely finished speaking of His bitter sufferings that were at hand—then to come begging for honours ! Yet their gentle Master did not reproach them.

"You know not what you ask," He said. " Can you drink of the chalice that I drink of ?" They said to Him: "We can." He said to them : "Of My chalice indeed you shall drink, but to sit on My right hand or on My left is not Mine to give to you, but for them for whom it is prepared by My Father." And the ten hearing it began to be much displeased with James and John. Jesus called them all round Him and told them that in His Kingdom those who want to be first must make themselves the servants of the rest. This settled the dispute for the time. He knew the day would come when, by the grace of His Holy Spirit, these jealousies, quarrels and desires of earthly greatness would cease—and He waited.

On His way to Jerusalem our Lord was accompanied by a multitude of pilgrims going up for the Pasch, and as they approached Jericho the crowd around Him became enormous. Past the gardens of roses, for which the city was famous, past the orchards of figs and dates, it moved slowly along till He suddenly stopped beneath a sycamore tree growing by the wayside, and looked up. The crowd came to a standstill. Zaccheus, the chief of the tax gatherers, had climbed up there because he wanted to see Jesus, who, he had been told, was the Friend of publicans and sinners. He was too short to see over the shoulders of others, and no one would make way for him. He had made himself rich at the expense of his fellow-countrymen and in the service of the Romans, and, therefore, was hated and despised by all. But he was determined to see Jesus, and, without minding the laughter of the passers by, had climbed up into the tree beneath which the Lord must pass. What was his astonishment to see Him stop, look up, and call him by his name:

"Zaccheus, make haste and come down, for this day I must abide in thy house." His house! the house of a publican ! He of all that crowd to have the honour of entertaining the Master! "He made haste and came down," says St. Luke, " and received Him with joy. And, when all saw it, they murmured, saying that He was gone to be a guest with a man that was a sinner." Zaccheus took the harsh judgment humbly; his heart was too full of gladness to mind it, and he was ready to pay any price for the favour shown him. He came and stood before our Lord to make his confession and purpose of amendment and satisfaction:

"Behold, Lord," he said, " the half of my goods I give to the poor, and if I have wronged any man of anything, I restore him fourfold." Jesus said to him: "This day is salvation come to this house. For the Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost."
Here was the absolution.

Next morning our Lord set out again on His way, "a very great multitude " going before, following, thronging Him as before. Blind Bartimeus, the beggar, sat by the wayside, and, hearing the tramping past of many feet, he asked what it meant, and was told that Jestis of Nazareth was passing by. An intense desire to recover his sight sprang up within him:

"Jesus, Son of David!"  he cried, "have mercy on me!" And many rebuked him that he might hold his peace, but he cried a great deal more: "Son of David, have mercy on me!" And Jesus standing still commanded him to be called. The people were kinder then: "Be of better comfort," they said, " arise, He calleth thee." He leaped up, cast aside his outer garment that he might move the faster, flung out his arms for some one to lead him. And, trembling with hope, came and fell down at our Lord's feet, his hands clasped, his sightless eyes lifted to the face of Jesus.

"What wilt thou that I do for thee ? " Jesus asked. "Rabboni, that I may see !" "Go thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole." And immediately he saw and followed Him in the way glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.

Accompanied by the crowd, our Lord went on to Bethany, where He arrived on Friday, " six days before the Passover," says St. John, for Thursday, when the Paschal lamb was slain, was regarded as the first day of the Festival. With the Twelve He went to the house of His friends, leaving the multitude to go on to Jerusalem. The excitement there was intense, both among rulers and people, for the chief priests had now given commandment that if anyone knew where Jesus of Nazareth was he was to tell them, that they might apprehend Him, On every side inquiries were being made for Him. Standing in the Temple men said to one another:

"What think you that He has not come to the festival day ?" Presently word was brought by the crowds from Jericho that He was at Bethany. At once a great multitude flocked out there, not for Jesus' sake only, but that they might see Lazarus whom He had raised from the dead. Numbers came back believing in Him. Enraged beyond measure at the enthusiasm spreading on every side, the chief priests thought of killing Lazarus also. From this time forward it is these priests who take the lead in all the plots for bringing our Lord to death. The people, in Galilee especially, believed in Him, but the rulers—the Scribes and Pharisees, the ancients, the wealthy Sadducees, the Herodians, the Sanhedrin, and the priests, who had been against Him from the first, were only hardened by His miracles. The resurrection of Lazarus at the very gates of Jerusalem brought their fury to a climax. But nothing could be done as long as He had these huge crowds as a bodyguard. His reputation, then, must be destroyed and the people turned against Him. In and out, then, among the crowds went the rulers stirring the people up against Jesus of Nazareth, declaring in words of fierce indignation that He was a blasphemer, who gave Himself out to be the Son of God, a friend of publicans and sinners, an impostor who pretended to be the Messiah, and would get them all into dreadful trouble with the Romans, as other impostors had done, a dealer with the Evil One, by whose help He cast out devils. The people were puzzled; they saw that all the respectable part of the nation was against Him; they were terrified of the Homans, and they began to waver. This was the state of things in Jerusalem. On Friday and Saturday our Lord remained quietly with His friends at Bethany. They were always glad to have Him under their roof, and now more than ever when others whom He had loved and comforted were afraid to harbour Him or show Him gratitude.

On Saturday evening He was at the house of Simon the Leper, in the same place, and St. John says they made Him a supper there. It was a wealthy home, and everything provided was of the best. Our Lord was in the place of honour, and, as the guests reclined round the tables, every eye turned in wonder and admiration to the calm face of Him who lay there upon His couch, so grave yet so attractive, the Man whom the rulers were hunting to His death. Beside Him was His friend Lazarus, whom He had raised from the dead. The presence of those two made the supper a time of solemn thought; the guests spoke quietly, noise and merriment were felt to be out of place. Martha did the honours and served, more quietly than once before, but eager still, delighted to be near our Lord, to show reverence to Him and His, waiting on the disciples herself that their awkward ways might pass unnoticed, and by her kindness and heartiness making them feel at home.

During the supper Mary came in carrying in an alabaster box a pound of ointment of right spikenard. She anointed the feet of Jesus as before and wiped them with her hair, and, breaking the box, poured it out upon His head, and the house was filled with the fragrance of the ointment. At this Judas, usually so cautious and silent, could not conceal his vexation, and, unmindful both of the reverence due to his Master and of what was becoming in a guest, called out:

"Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence and given to the poor?" "Now he said this," says St. John, " not because he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and, having the purse, carried the things that were put therein." The other disciples, some of them at least, followed his example, and, filled with indignation, said:

"To what purpose is this waste ?" "Let her alone, why do you molest her?" said our Lord. " She hath wrought a good work upon Me. For the poor you have always with you, and whensoever you will you may do them good, but Me you have not always. What she had she hath done; she is come beforehand to anoint My body for the burial. Amen I say to you, wheresoever this Gospel shall be preached in the whole world, that also which she hath done shall be told for a memory of her."

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The hatred of our Lord's enemies was growing in intensity day by day. They were now fully resolved upon His death, but they feared the people. And well they might. He had been amongst them now nearly three years, "curing every disease and every infirmity."

Thousands of poor sufferers—demoniacs, lepers, the blind, the paralyzed, the deaf, the dumb, had been made happy by His kind word or His gentle touch. Would the people suffer harm to come near Him? This was the question the rulers asked somewhat anxiously when they met together, priests and scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees, Herodians, all united for once by their common hatred of Him " who went about doing good." How was His death to be brought about? How, without danger to themselves, could they get Him into their power ? Alas ! there was one at hand ready to help them.

Meantime our Lord, who knew every word spoken in their secret councils, was on His way to Jerusalem. His hour was now nearly come, and He went forth bravely to meet it. St. Mark tells us that He walked so fast, on this His last journey to the Holy City, that the Twelve " were astonished and following Him were afraid." Some vague apprehension of coming trouble frightened them, though they did not understand that the redemption of the world was to be wrought by means of the sufferings and death of which their Master had now so frequently spoken. The Kingdom ! the Kingdom ! this was the cry of their hearts still  The hatred of the rulers was too plainly expressed to be any secret to the people, and many who would have liked to show our Lord gratitude and hospitality were hindered from doing so by their fear of those in power.

No one wanted to get into trouble with the Sanhedrin that formidable council which could pass and carry out any sentence excepting only that of death. There was one house, however, where our Lord was always welcome, one family that counted the happiness of having Him under its roof to be worth any risk and any penalty. Let us make the acquaintance of this blessed family.

To the south-east of Jerusalem, separated from the City by the brook Kedron, lay the Mount of Olives, so called from the number of olive trees with which it was covered. On its eastern side the Mount sloped down to a village about a mile and a half from Jerusalem, named Bethany. Here the sisters Martha and Mary lived with their brother Lazarus, a quiet, happy little household, united by the closest affection, and having as their intimate Friend and frequent Guest the Son of God Himself.

In character the sisters were very different, and each had her own way of entertaining our Blessed Lord. Martha, the mistress of the house, was a practical woman, full of activity and energy. She went here and there seeing herself to all the preparations. No trouble must be spared to make the house look nice; the setting out of the table, the flowers and brightness everywhere, must testify to the heartiness of her welcome and her sense of the honour done to her by His visit.

Of Mary we know something already, for, though it is not certain that she is the same as Mary Magdalen, this is the common opinion. We are not surprised, therefore, to find her sitting at the feet of Jesus, so absorbed by His Presence and conversation as to be unmindful of all beside.

What joy there was in this little home when He was expected! As evening fell the three would go up to the flat roof of the house to watch for the white Figure coming slowly over the brow of the hill, sometimes with the Twelve, sometimes alone. Then they would go out on to the road to meet Him and reverently bring Him within and give Him of their best. Martha never thought she had done enough by way of preparation, and so it was with dismay she found one day that He had come without warning and lovingly taken them by surprise. Things were not ready, and there was no time to provide. However, she set to work with hearty good will, hurrying here and there, and beholding, not without displeasure, Mary seated as usual silent and still at the Master's feet. Could she not see how much there was to do ? It was selfish of her to sit there thinking of her own satisfaction only. So thought poor Martha as she passed and repassed the two sitting apart, and heard the low tones of the Master's voice, and saw Mary's rapt and reverent face. At last she turned round and spoke:

"Master, hast Thou no care that my sister hath left me alone to serve? Speak to her, therefore, that she help me." Our Lord looked up:

"Martha, Martha," He said, " thou art careful and art troubled about many things. But one thing is necessary. Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her."  He was not displeased; how should He be? He who had noticed the want of hospitality in the house of Simon the Pharisee, could He blame His eager hostess here ? He had watched her loading the table with meats, and fruit, and flowers, and had accepted the love and generosity of her heart. But there was a little too much fret and fuss, and this He gently corrected. She need not have been put out because her sister's way of entertaining the Master was different from her own, and it was almost like blaming His indulgence with Mary to have found fault with her in His Presence. " Martha, Martha!" He repeated her name twice, a mark of great affection, and there was more of love than of rebuke in His tone. Both the sisters were very dear to Him. Martha was something like Peter, an ardent, eager soul, and, as we shall see presently, she has the glory of making her profession of faith in the same words as those at Caesarea, which won for Peter the Headship of the Church.

Now it happened that Lazarus fell ill, and, of course, the first thought of his sisters was to send word to Jesus.

"Lord, behold he whom Thou lovest is sick!" This was the message. No mention that the danger was great, no prayer that He would come quickly. What need for this? He who hastened when a stranger called Him, what would He not do for them! The sick man grew worse and they saw the end must come even before their messenger could reach the Master who was across the Jordan in Perea. But what of that! He knew it all before, and no doubt was even now on His way to them. So, whilst one sat by the deathbed, the other from the roof watched the road for the first sign of His approach.
 
But He did not come, and Lazarus died. Up to the last moment they had hoped, and each time the door opened they had turned to welcome their Lord. Now all was over, and, when that same day, having left their dearly loved brother in his cave sepulchre, they returned to the desolate home, who shall tell the anguish of their hearts!

During the days of mourning they sat upon the ground, their heads veiled, their feet bare, silent and lonely amid the lamentations of the hired mourners and the noise of friends and comforters coming and going. If Jesus is not our Comforter in trouble we are exceedingly sad and desolate as were these poor sisters. People meaning to be kind expressed surprise
at His absence, thought He was such a Friend of theirs who would have been the first to hasten to them in their distress, but of course, He did not know how ill Lazarus was. Every word was agony to the mourners. And they could say nothing in reply. It was indeed strange. But they struggled bravely with temptation and would not let His absence or His silence shake their trust in Him. Then their messenger returned, saying that on hearing of their trouble the Master had merely said the sickness was not unto death, and had turned again to His teaching. They heard and bore their anguish in silence, and trusted still. Now, why did our Lord try them so sorely? The words of St. John sound strange to us: "Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister Mary and Lazarus. When He had heard, therefore, that he was sick, He still remained in the same place two days God's ways are not like ours. But His ways are always best, as we shall see clearly some day.  After two days our Lord said to His disciples:

"Let us go into Judea again." The disciples said to Him: "Rabbi, the Jews but now sought to stone Thee, and goest Thou thither again?" Jesus said to them:

"Lazarus, our friend, sleepeth, but I go that I may awake him out of sleep." His disciples said:

"Lord, if he sleep he shall do well." But Jesus spoke of his death, and they thought He spoke of the repose of sleep. Then Jesus said to them plainly:

"Lazarus is dead, and I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, that you may believe. But let us go to him." Thomas said to his fellow-disciples:

"Let us also go that we may die with Him." Jesus, therefore, came and found that he had been four days already in the grave. And many of the Jews were come to Martha and Mary to comfort them concerning their brother. Martha, therefore, as soon as she heard that Jesus was come, went to meet Him, but Mary sat at home. Martha, therefore, said to Jesus:
 
"Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." It was not lament, still less complaint, only that plaintive word that the sisters had said again and again to one another during those days of watching and waiting. She went on:

"But now also I know that whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will give it Thee." She asks nothing, but holds up her faith and her trust to Him, a silent prayer, to be heard as He shall see best. Jesus saith to her:

"Thy brother shall rise again." Martha saith to Him : "I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day." Jesus said to her:

"I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in Me, although he be dead, shall live. . . . Believest thou this?" She saith to Him: "Yea, Lord, I have believed that Thou art Christ the Son of the living God, who art come into this world." The grand confession of Caesarea Philippi over again! And, when she had said these things, she went and called her sister Mary secretly, saying:

"The Master is come and calleth for thee." She, as soon as she heard this, riseth quickly and cometh to Him. The Jews, therefore, who were with her in the house and comforted her, when they saw Mary that she rose up speedily and went out, followed her, saying:

"She goeth to the grave to weep there." When Mary, therefore, was come where Jesus was, seeing Him, she fell down at His feet and saith to Him: "Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." Jesus, therefore, when He saw her weeping, and the Jews that were come with her weeping, groaned in the spirit, and troubled Himself, and said: "Where have you laid him ?" They say to Him:

"Lord, come and see." And Jesus wept. The Jews, therefore, said: "Behold how He loved him." But some of them said: "Could not He that opened the eyes of the man born blind have caused that this man should not die ?" Jesus, therefore, again groaning in Himself, cometh to the sepulchre. Now it was a cave, and a stone was laid over it. Jesus saith:

"Take away the stone." Martha saith to Him: "Lord, by this time he stinketh, for he is now of four days." Jesus saith to her: "Did not I say to thee that if thou believe thou shalt see the glory of God ?" They took, therefore, the stone away. And Jesus, lifting up His eyes, said: "Father, I give Thee thanks that Thou hast heard Me. And I know that Thou heareth Me always, but because of the people that stand about have I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me." When He had said these things, He cried with a loud voice:

"Lazarus, come forth." And, presently, he that had been dead came forth, bound feet and hands with winding-bands, and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus said to them: " Loose him and let him go." Many, therefore, of the Jews who were come to Mary and Martha, and had seen the things that Jesus did, believed in Him.

We have had the account of this wondrous scene in the words of St. John who saw it. He does not go on to tell us what followed—of the trembling hands that unloosed the graveclothes, of the awe and the thankfulness with which the sisters and their brother fell at the feet of Jesus. But he says that some who witnessed that stupendous miracle went to the Pharisees and told them the things that Jesus had done, and that the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered a council of the Sanhedrists and said:

"What do we, for this Man doth many miracles ? If we let Him alone so all men will believe in Him, and the Romans will come and take away our place and nation." But Caiaphas, being the High Priest of that year, said to them: "You know nothing, neither do you consider that it is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not."

From that day, therefore, they devised to put Him to death. Wherefore Jesus walked no more openly among the Jews, but went to a city called Ephrem, and there abode with His disciples till the time came for His final journey to Jerusalem. He can do no more. He has filled the land with the "signs" demanded of Him. He has fulfilled the prophecies and proved Himself the Promised One who was to be sent. It only remains for Him to show Himself the Man of Sorrows, foretold by the prophets, and, as the High Priest had prophesied—to die for the people.

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture can be found below.

No one must keep the children from Him, and no one must hinder His coming Passion. Only when the disciples did these things was their Master angry with them. He was patient with their dulness—and, oh! they were dull—and with their many faults. He had taught them to be kind and forgiving. But when a Samaritan city refused Him a passage through, because He was going to Jerusalem, James and John, filled with indignation, said:
"Lord, wilt Thou that we command fire from Heaven to come down and consume them?"
"You know not of what spirit you are," He answered quietly; "the Son of Man came not to destroy souls but to save."

People who did not do as they did were sure to be in the wrong. "Master," said John to Him, "we saw one casting out devils in Thy Name who followeth not us, and we forbade him." " Do not forbid him," Jesus answered; "he that is not against you is for you." He had been telling the Twelve to try to gain by gentleness a brother who might have offended them.
"How often shall my brother offend against me and I forgive him? till seven times?" said Peter, thinking this a great stretch of generosity. "I say not to thee till seven times," Jesus answered, " but till seventy times seven times."

One day a young man came running up to Jesus, and, kneeling before Him, said: "Good Master, what shall I do that I may receive life everlasting ?" Our Lord told him that he must keep the Commandments. "All these have I kept from my youth: what is yet wanting to me?" he said, and looked up with innocent eyes into the face of Jesus. He spoke truly, his soul was beautiful in the sight of God. And Jesus looking on Him loved him and said to him:
"One thing is wanting to thee; if thou wilt be perfect, go sell all whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in Heaven, and come, follow Me." When the young man heard this he went away sad, for he had great possessions. And Jesus, seeing him become sad, looking round about, said to His disciples:

"Children, how hard it is for them that trust in riches to enter into the Kingdom of God. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God." Then Peter answering, said to Him: "Behold, we have left all things and have followed Thee: what therefore shall we have?" Instead of reproving this fisherman for talking about leaving all things, Jesus said to him:

"Amen, I say to you, that you who have followed Me, when the Son of Man shall sit on the seat of His majesty, you also shall sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel." Perhaps it was this promise of thrones that made James and John ask a little later for the first place in the Kingdom that was coming. Our Lord was not angry with them, but wonderfully indulgent and patient.

He saw that the faults of His Apostles were on the surface only, so much on the surface, indeed, that they were very visible. But their hearts were right. They were simple and straightforward, having no secrets from Him, coming out with all that they felt without caring whether it might meet with a reproof. And when He did reprove, they were docile and saw their fault, and were sorry and began to try again. There was no sulking, no keeping away from Him after a rebuke. And often there was something good and generous even in their failures. If James and John were hard upon the Samaritan city, it was because they could not bear to see their Master treated with disrespect. If they asked for the first places in His Kingdom, it was that they might be near Him. And if Peter inquired whether he should forgive seven times, it was from the fear that such generosity might perhaps be excessive. They spoke of having left all for Christ because they had left willingly the little they had, and would have left palaces and all the wealth of this world had it been theirs.

Dear Apostles of our Lord! with all their shortcomings, how delightful they are, how charming in their simplicity and in the devotedness of their rough, tender hearts. We could not spare one single word they say, one act of loving ambition, or faulty zeal. But for them we should never have known our Blessed Saviour as we do. It is encouraging to find that in
spite of His teaching and blessed example always before their eyes, they remained for a long time so imperfect. It helps us to see them struggling with the same passions we have to fight, and falling again and again into the same faults.

One, one only among His Twelve disappointed the Master and lay like a dead weight on His Heart, that one on whom all His teaching and deeds of mercy and of power were thrown away, who hardened himself more and more now that the prospects of an earthly kingdom
seemed to be vanishing. Judas remained indeed in the little company and followed his Master still, but in body only. He had long since ceased to care for Him who had called him. His life was all pretense; his prayers with the others, his teaching of the people, his conversations with our Lord when he was obliged to speak—all this was acting. We never find him asking questions like the rest when their Master was instructing them. He did not care to learn, for he did not mean to improve. There was only one thing he really cared for now, and that was—money. Little by little he had let this love of money take possession of him, till at last all his thought was to get it, no matter how. He had charge of the purse which contained the alms given for the support of our Lord and the Apostles, and the poor. He began to steal from this purse. The first time his conscience reproached him terribly and made him very unhappy. He was afraid, too, that our Lord, who of course knew of his theft, might reprove him for it before his fellow-Apostles. But as time went on and his Master said nothing, at least in public, he grew bolder and took more and more. Jesus loved him tenderly still. He had called him to be an Apostle because He loved him and saw in his soul what pleased Him, and He warned him again and again to beware of the covetousness which like poison was killing all the good that was there. He kept him in His company, He treated him like the rest, sent him out to preach, gave him power to cast out devils and to cure, spoke to him kindly, tried to win him—but all in vain. The agony He felt at the gradual falling away of the poor, miserable Apostle comes out when He speaks of His coming Passion. He mentions a few only of the sufferings that were in store for Him, the sharpest, and chiefly the pains of the soul—mocking, spitting, betrayal. This last was the worst. He could bear insult and cruelty from the Gentiles who knew Him not, but betrayal from one of His own ! Oh, the anguish there is in those words at the Last Supper:
"Amen, I say to you, one of you shall betray Me!"

Our Lord was praying one day whilst His disciples stood at a little distance watching Him. They never tired of seeing Him at prayer. His stillness, His profound reverence, the fervour of soul that appeared on His countenance filled them with admiration and the desire to pray like Him. This day one of them said when His prayer was finished:
"Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples."

The Prophets had taught them; the rabbis had taught them. Their prayers began with one or other of the Names by which God was known to the Jews: "the Strong One," "the Adorable," "the great Lord," "the God of Hosts," "the Most High," "the Almighty." One Name out of reverence they might never pronounce-- Jehovah, " He who is and will be." How will their Master have them speak to God ? by what dread Name must they call Him? See them gather round Him, eager, reverent. Watch their faces as He makes answer:
"When you pray say : Father, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy Kingdom come; give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our sins as we also forgive our debtors; and lead us not into temptation."  What a surprise, what a relief! No terrible Name, but "Father." They may speak to the God who made them as children to the most loving of fathers, and ask, not for great things only, but for little things, for the least things, for everything. They remember how long ago He said to them: "Thus, therefore shall you pray: Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy Kingdom come; Thy Will be done on earth as it is in Heaven." It was a little shorter now, but the same prayer. " Father, Our Father " the prayer for all. He makes no exception; the poorest, then, the most ignorant, the most guilty have a right to look up and say: "Our Father who art in Heaven." Yes, there is nothing our Lord has more at heart than this—to see us go to our Heavenly Father with great confidence and ask again and again for all we want, persisting if we do not obtain at once. To show how we should persist, He told the people a parable of a man who goes at midnight to his friend and says to him: "Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has come off his journey and I have nothing to set before him." He from within answers: "Trouble me not, the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed, I cannot rise and give thee." "Yet," our Lord goes on, " if he shall continue knocking, I say unto you, although he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise, and give him as many as he needeth. And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you." We are to knock again and again, and louder and louder by persevering prayer till at last the door is opened. Any other friend would be annoyed at such persistence, but God loves it and delights to reward it, as He rewarded the perseverance of the Canaanite.

And here we may notice in passing what beautiful prayers, prayers we can all feel and say, prayers of sinners and needy ones like ourselves, the Gospel gives us:
"Lord, help me!" "Lord, if Thou wilt Thou canst make me clean." "Lord, save me, I perish!" "O
God, be merciful to me, a sinner !" It was about this time that our Lord chose seventy-two of His disciples and sent them two and two to preach. It was now, too, that He spoke that most beautiful parable of the Prodigal Son, to encourage all who have wandered from their Father's Home to return to the open arms and the welcome that await them there.

A certain man had two sons, and the younger of them said to his father: "Give me the portion of substance that falleth to me." He had all he needed to make him happy in that home of his—all but the spirit of contentment and gratitude. But, wanting these, he wanted everything. He was restless and dissatisfied. He thought he would be happier away from his father's eye, in some far off country where he would be his own master and could do just as he liked—no rules, no duties, no reminders, nothing but pleasure all day and all night, a good time always. His share of his father's wealth would have come to him on the old man's death, but he could not wait. So he went to his father and said: "Give me now what I shall have when you die." There was no reproach at the heartless words; the father divided all he had between his sons; and, not many days after, the younger,  gathering all together, left home and set out for the far country. Many places that he passed on his way looked bright and tempting, but they were too near home; his father might come to hear of him and try to get him back. At last he was far enough. From the gay city here no news of him would ever reach his home. So he settled down and soon found himself surrounded by a number of young fellows, only too glad to make friends with a rich stranger, and be treated at his expense.

All went merrily for a while—as long as the money lasted. Then came a change. One by one his new friends left him, famine brought distress upon the country, and he began to be in want—the spoilt child of that wealthy home, in want! He hired himself to a man who sent him into his farm to feed swine. There, day after day he sat among them, cold, hungry, friendless, coveting the husks they ate. Then in the misery of his need came the memory of his home and of the plenty there:
"How many servants in my father's house abound with bread?" he said to himself, "and I here perish with hunger."
He thought of his wilfulness and ingratitude, and —oh, well for him that it was so! of the goodness of his father's heart. "I will arise," he said, " and will go to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against Heaven and before thee; I am not now worthy to be called thy son, make me as one of thy hired servants." To be back again under the old roof and earn his bread there as a hired servant was more than he deserved, but he would ask it of his father's charity. And he arose and set out on his way home. There was weariness to be faced, for the way was long. There was shame, too, as he drew near the old, familiar places. But no one knew him no one recognized in the ragged, miserable boy, starved and ill, the sprightly young fellow who had turned his back on home and gone far away and been lost sight of. No one ? Yes, there was one who knew him, one who had never lost sight of him, who had watched for him daily, who was watching now. When he was yet a great way off his father saw him and was moved with compassion, and, running to him, fell upon his neck and kissed him. The poor boy fell on his knees, and, covering his face with his hands, sobbed out:
"Father, I have sinned against Heaven and before thee, I am not now worthy to be called thy son."
No more; for his father's kiss had sealed his lips, and his father's arms were round him. And the servants were bidden to make haste lest any should see him in his disgrace—make haste to clothe him once more as a son, and put a ring on his hand and shoes on his poor, blistered feet, and prepare a feast with music and dancing that they might make merry and be glad because he had been dead and was come to life again, he had been lost and was found.

Perhaps we think God Himself could hardly be kinder than the father of the prodigal ? Our Lord did not think so; He knew He is much kinder, for after all the father did not go out into the far country to look for his son and bring him back. Yet this is what God has done for us. He has come all the way from Heaven into this world to seek us, and, when we are sorry for our sins and want to be better, it is the voice of God our Father calling us back to Him. 

So our Lord made another parable of a good shepherd who left his ninety-nine obedient sheep to go after one that had strayed away from the fold and got lost in the mountains, where wild beasts live and prowl about at night in search of such foolish wanderers. The good shepherd goes after his sheep in the cold wind and the darkness and the rain, not minding his bleeding feet, cut by the sharp stones of the way. He gets upon a little height, and stands, and listens! And, when at last he hears its far off bleating cry, he hastens to where, over the side of the precipice, it stands on a narrow ledge, ready to fall into the depths below and be dashed to pieces. At the risk of his life he leans over and lifts it up and sets it in safety by his side. He does not beat, or scold it, or drive it back to the fold, but speaks to it tenderly, and strokes it, and lifts it on his shoulder rejoicing, and so carries it home, and, when he gets back to the fold, calls together his friends and neighbours, saying:
"Rejoice with me because I have found my sheep that was lost."
"I am the Good Shepherd," said our Lord, " and I lay down My life for My sheep." When He told this story the day was drawing near when He was going to give His life for His sheep. He was always thinking of that day and longing for it, because by His cruel death we, whom He loved so dearly, were to be saved.

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture are below.

In spite of all our Lord could do and say, the minds of the Apostles were still full of the coming Kingdom and of the first places there. Whether it was the favour shown to the three who had been taken into the room of Jairus' little daughter when the rest were left outside, and had been with the Master on the Mount, where it was plain they had seen something wonderful and heard some secret which they would not tell the nine; or whether the great promise made to Peter after his confession at Csesarea Philippi had aroused jealousy among the others, there was a dispute among the Twelve at this time as to which of them was the greatest.

Andrew was the first called; James and John were cousins, or, in Jewish language, "brothers " of the Lord; and John was plainly His best beloved. On the other hand, Peter was the most noticed by the Master and was the Rock; Judas came from the south, and spoke the best, and was better off than the rest. Which of them, then, was the greatest? This was the kind of talk among them as they walked one day behind our Lord on the way to Capharnaum. When they came to the house He said quietly:

"What did you speak of in the way ?"

"But they held their peace," says St. Mark, "for in the way they had disputed among themselves which of them should be the greatest." At length one bolder than the rest answered the Master's question after a fashion by putting another:

"Who, thinkest Thou, is the greater in the Kingdom of Heaven?" It shows their confidence in our Blessed Lord, and their habit of taking all difficulties to Him, that ashamed as they were of being caught in this dispute, they yet appealed to Him to settle it and to satisfy their curiosity. Our Lord sat down and made them all come round Him. A little child happened to be near. Jesus called him, and, when He had embraced him, He set him in the midst. See the Twelve looking at the child, wondering what was coming and why he was put there.

See the child looking round innocently at them all, standing there at our Lord's knee because he was bid, asking no questions. And Jesus said to them:

"Amen, I say to you unless you be converted and become as little children you shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, he is the greater in the Kingdom of Heaven." What a surprise! They had been disputing about the first place, and He threatens them with not getting in at all unless they change.

Our Blessed Lord goes on to speak of the preciousness of these little ones in the sight of God, of the reward those will have who do them good, and of the terrible punishment those deserve who teach them what is wrong, or neglect or harm them in any way:

"He that shall receive one such little child in My Name receiveth Me. But he that shall scandalize one of these little ones that believe in Me, it were better for him that a millstone should be hanged about his neck and that he should be drowned in the depth of the sea. See that you despise not one of these little ones, for I say to you that their Angels in Heaven always see the face of My Father who is in Heaven."

We must not think that these solemn promises and threats are for grown up people only. They are for children too. Children help or harm one another very much. Wherever they meet—in the playground, in the street, in church, at school, at home, they are doing good or doing mischief, pleasing or displeasing the Good Angels of their brothers, or sisters, or companions.

The Holy Angels watch with the greatest care over the little ones entrusted to them. Happy those who make friends of these blessed spirits by helping their little charges. But woe to any who by word or example harm a little child. Its powerful friend and protector who stands always in the Presence of God will accuse them there.

Children are very dear to our Blessed Lord, and He loves to see them near Him. He was resting one day when some Jewish mothers, who had watched their opportunity, brought a whole flock of little ones, infants in arms many of them, that He might touch them and lay His hands on them and pray.

The Apostles were not at all kind to the visitors and went about rebuking both mothers and children:

"Get away, children," they said, " the Master is tired and cannot do with you. They had soon forgotten the lesson He had given them at Capharnaum and the small teacher He had set over them there. They thought, no doubt, that to be worthy of their Master's attention, all should be important people like themselves. He had to teach them for the second time that they must become like children if they were to be near and dear to Him. A child is—or ought to be—simple and innocent, content to be little, to depend on others, to obey. This is why he is great in God's sight and worthy to be set as an example even to Apostles. Jesus, seeing the children being driven away, was much displeased and said to the Twelve:

"Suffer the little children to come unto Me and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of God."

From these words we see that the children were eager to come to Him, and were not simply brought by others. How gentle and inviting must have been His look, that encouraged the little troop to make their way up to Him in spite of the rough ways and words of the Twelve! They clustered round His knees. They held out their arms to be taken into His. They cried out "me ! me !" as they saw first one and then another folded in His embrace. They prattled round Him. They nestled on His breast. They took His hand and held it fast. Happy little children, who shall tell the graces that came to them that day from their Saviour's blessing and caress.

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture are below.

In the north of Palestine at the foot of snowy Hermon stood the magnificent city of Caesarea Philippi. Philip, the tetrarch, had enlarged and beautified it and called it Caesarea, in honour of Tiberias Caesar. Philippi, from Philip, was added to distinguish it from another Caesarea on the coast. The city is interesting to us, not for its heathen memories, but for the presence of Christ our Lord in its neighborhood, and for the events that took place there one memorable day.

It was now about ten months before the Passion, and the Apostles had been in the company of our Blessed Lord for nearly three years. During those years their knowledge of Him had been gradually growing. At the time of their call it was very imperfect indeed, and even later, when, from His teaching and wonderful works, they had come to acknowledge Him as the Messiah, their belief as to who He was remained very vague. Like the rest of their nation they knew that the Messiah was to be a great Deliverer; they did not clearly understand that He would be God. And by minding only the glorious things foretold of Him by the Prophets, they had lost sight of the prophecy that He would be a Man of Sorrows.

It was time for our Lord to test the faith of the Twelve, to prepare them for His coming Passion and Death, and to lay the foundations of that Church by which men were to be brought to the knowledge of Him and of what they must do to save their souls. All this was to be done at Caesarea Philippi. What wonder that on the morning of the eventful day of which we are speaking He was found alone in prayer! When He rose from His prayer He said to the Twelve:

"Who do men say that I am ?" And they said : " Some, John the Baptist, and other some, Elias, and others Jeremias or one of the Prophets."

Jesus said to them: "But who do you say that I am?" Peter, foremost as usual, answered:

"Thou art Christ, the Son of the Living God." Here was a glorious profession of faith, proclaiming Christ to be true God, equal to the Father in all things. Jesus said to him:

"Blessed art thou, Simon BarJona, because flesh and blood hath not revealed it to thee, but My Father who is in Heaven. And I say to thee that thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give to thee the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth it shall be bound also in Heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth it shall be loosed also in Heaven."

Thus, in reward for his grand confession, was Peter made the Vicar of Christ on earth. The other Apostles understood now why, on seeing him for the first time, their Master had called him a rock. As a rock keeps the house firm that is built upon it, so was Peter to keep steady and united the Church founded by Christ on him. And the gates of hell—the power of the devil—shall not prevail against it. Because by the gift of infallibility, Peter and his successors, when they speak to the whole Church on matters of faith or morals, will be preserved from teaching what is false. But Peter is to be not the foundation only, but the Governor and Head of the Church. Therefore, as the governor of a city has the keys put into his hands, so has Peter received full power over the Church to give orders and make laws as he shall see fit. And Christ, the invisible Head of the Church, promises to confirm in Heaven the acts of His Vicar on earth.

Moreover, as the Church is not to pass away with Peter, but to last as long as the world, what is promised to Peter is promised to his successors to the end of time. Now that through their spokesman the Apostles had confessed their faith in our Lord's Divinity, He began to show them that sin requires expiation, and that this can be made only by suffering. Gently and gradually He broke it to them that He would have to redeem the world by bitter pains and a cruel death, but that He would rise again the third day. "And He began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things, and be rejected by the ancients and by the high priests and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again."

They were horrified. It was so different from what they had expected. Why, it was only the other day that He was nearly being made King ! To be the Messiah and to suffer ! To be the Son of the Living God and to be killed ! It was more than Peter, with his faith in our Lord's Divinity, his reverence, his intense affection for Him, could bear. And—oh, what boldness!— he took Him aside and began to rebuke Him

"Lord, be it far from Thee, this shall not be unto Thee."

"Go behind Me, Satan ! because thou savourest not the things that are of God but the things that are of men." What tremendous words ! and from the lips that had just said: "Blessed art thou." Poor Peter fell back, dismayed, among his fellow-Apostles. It was a severe reproof, and showed the Twelve that no one must venture to dissuade the Master from going through the terrible sufferings that lay before Him. His Heart was full of His coming Passion. From this time He spoke of it often, and each time with greater fullness:

"The Son of Man shall be betrayed into the hands of men, and they shall mock Him, and kill Him, and the third day He shall rise again." Always at the end those comforting words. He never separated the Passion from the Resurrection, that the thought of our resurrection and of the joys of Heaven may support us in the troubles of this short life.

But the poor disciples could not take in either the trouble or the comfort that He foretold: and "they were afraid to ask Him," says St. Luke, so they used "to question among themselves what these things might mean." And there was more yet. Not only did our Lord foretell His own sufferings, but He now made it clear that the disciples must be like their Master and that through labours and trials of every kind they must follow Him into the Kingdom of Heaven—they and all who professed themselves His disciples. He was so resolved that there should be no mistake on this point that He called the multitudes together with His disciples and said to all; "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me." These words sorely distressed the Twelve. To think of all their expectations coming to this—a suffering Messiah, and no end of troubles for all who followed Him! Their Master had pity on them, and to strengthen their faith and courage He gave them a proof of His Divinity and a foretaste of the reward prepared for them in Heaven when their trials here were over. It happened in this way:

One evening, a week after Peter's confession at Caesarea Philippi, He took Peter and James and John and went up into a mountain to pray. He loved the mountains. They lifted Him for a little while above this sad earth. He loved the majesty of their solitude, their stillness, their strength. He loved the tranquil glory of the midnight skies into which they rose. He was the Creator of the starry heavens above Him. He knew and controlled all that they contain. If one of His Saints exclaimed: "How dull does earth appear when I look up to Heaven," how did His glorious Soul pour Itself forth in admiration and praise as He knelt there amid the wonders of His own creation through those eastern nights!

And so this evening He went up the mountain, probably Thabor or Hermon, with His chosen three. It was getting dark when they reached the top and knelt down to pray. His companions watched with Him awhile, then, wearied with the labours of the day and the steep ascent, and drowsy in the strong mountain air, they fell asleep.

A dazzling light falling on their faces roused them. They woke and looked around. The Mount, the surrounding heavens, the earth beneath were lit up by a supernatural splendour. And there in the midst—the Source from which all that glory streamed—was their Master, so transfigured that His face shone as the sun, and His glittering garments were white as no fuller on earth can make white. The glory of the Divinity within poured Itself out upon His Face and Form with a brilliancy so intense as to transfigure even His raiment. He had laid aside the form of a servant and taken to Himself the majesty and splendour that became the Son of God. The Sacred Humanity was like a lantern enclosing a light too brilliant to be seen without a shade. In the Transfiguration the shade was withdrawn, and, for an instant, the Light of Light in its transplendent beauty was seen by men. And, behold! two men, Moses and Elias, appeared in majesty, and they were talking with Jesus of His decease which He should accomplish in Jerusalem. Here was a new wonder, Moses, the Lawgiver of the Jews, and Elias, the most marvellous Prophet of the Old Law, coming to pay homage to the Founder of the New Law, and speaking to Him, even in this scene of glory, of His coming sufferings and death. One of the accusations of our Lord's enemies was that He did not respect the Law of Moses. What would His accusers have said had they seen Moses on this night humbly waiting on Jesus of Nazareth as a servant on his lord!

The glorious scene before them so captivated the Apostles that they could only enjoy it in silent awe and intense delight. They listened to Moses and Elias speaking in admiration and gratitude to our Lord of His coming Passion. They heard His tender words in reply. How long this lasted we do not know, but when the Saints seemed to be going Peter, in his vehement desire to keep them, cried out:

"Lord, it is good for us to be here, if Thou wilt let us make here three tabernacles, one for Thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias!" "not knowing what he said," adds St. Luke. Truly, not knowing what he said. It was a simple thought at which he must have wondered afterwards, that those three, resplendent with heavenly glory, could need a dwelling made with hands! And as he was yet speaking, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and lo ! a Voice out of the cloud saying:

"This is My Beloved Son in whom I am well pleased: hear ye Him." And the disciples, hearing, fell upon their faces and were very much afraid. Overwhelmed by the awfulness of so much glory, they did not dare to look up till Jesus came and touched them and said to them:

"Arise, and fear not!" And they, lifting up their eyes and looking about, saw no one but only Jesus. The bright cloud had disappeared. The sky was dark as before, lit only by the
distant stars. Moses and Elias were gone, and Jesus, gentle and lowly as usual, was bending over them and telling them not to be afraid. And, as they came down from the mountain, He charged them saying:

"Tell the vision to no man till the Son of Man be risen from the dead." St. Mark adds: "And they kept the word to themselves, questioning together what that should mean 'when He shall be risen from the dead.' " Poor Apostles! not their Master only, but now Moses and Elias had spoken of the Death that was at hand. And still they could not understand. Peter had wished that night of glory to last for ever. It was good for them to be there on the Mount of Transfiguration, he said. He did not know that this glimpse of Heaven was to prepare them to tread the Way of the Cross, and he little dreamed of another hill, a hill of shame, on which one of the three was to stand beside his Master before many months were passed.

The memory of that glorious night was graven deep in the minds of the Apostles. St. Peter, writing to the faithful thirty-five years later, speaks of what he had heard "when we were with Him in the holy Mount." And in the Last Gospel we hear St. John saying:

"And we saw His glory, the glory as it were of the Only-Begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth." His glory was shown to them that their faith might not falter at the sight of His shame, and that all who believe in Him may know that the Way of the Cross is the Way to Heaven, and that the sufferings of this short life are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to come.

Coming down from the mountain next morning our Lord found the nine Apostles who had been left behind, surrounded by a great crowd, and in a difficulty. A poor, possessed boy had been brought to them for cure, and they could not cast out the devil. How glad they were to see their Master coming to their help. And there was another glad, too. The father of the boy came running to Jesus, and, falling at His feet, cried out:

"Lord, have pity on my son, because he is my only one. And, lo! a spirit seizeth him and he suddenly crieth out, and he throweth him down and teareth him. so that he foameth, and bruising him he hardly departeth from him. And I desired Thy disciples to cast him out and they could not." And Jesus said:

"O unbelieving and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you, how long shall I suffer you ? Bring him hither to Me." And as he was coming to Him the spirit troubled him, and being thrown down upon the ground, he rolled about foaming. And Jesus asked his father:

"How long is it since this hath happened unto him ?" But he said:

"From his infancy. And oftentimes hath he cast him into the fire and often into waters to destroy him. But if Thou canst do anything, help us having compassion on us." And Jesus said to him :

"If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." And immediately the father of the boy, crying out with tears, said:

"I do believe, Lord, help my unbelief." And Jesus said:

"Deaf and dumb spirit, I command thee, go out of him and enter not any more into him."
And, crying out and greatly tearing him, he went out of him, and he became as dead, so that many said:

"He is dead." But Jesus taking him by the hand lifted him up; and he arose and was cured from that hour. And when He was come into the house, His disciples secretly asked Him:

"Why could not we cast him out?" And He said to them : "This kind can go out by nothing but by prayer and fasting."

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture are below.