Thaddeus turned aside in horror. “May it never be my lot to look on at such a thing.”
“Do not imagine that such talk is a jest,” said another. “Every one implores God that such a doom may never befall any of his relations or friends. We are all poor sinners. When our Master establishes His Kingdom this horrible mode of death will be abolished. Don’t you think so?”
“Then all modes of death will be abolished,” said Simon Peter. “Are you asleep when He speaks of eternal life?”
“But He says Himself that they will slay Him.”
“That they wish to slay Him He means. Just wait till He once shows them His power!”
So they often talked together, half in pleasantry, half in simplicity, but always behind the Master’s back.
A change had come over Jesus since the events on the high mountain. It was as if He had now become quite clear about His divine call, as if He had only now fully realised that He was God’s messenger, the Son of the Heavenly Father, summoned from eternity to go down to earth to awake men and save them for a life of bliss with God. He felt that the power of God had been given Him to judge souls. The devils fled before Him, He was subject to no human power. He broke with the history of His degraded people; He annulled the ancient writings, falsified by priests and learned men. He recognised that in His unity with the Heavenly Father and Eternal God, He was Lord of all power in heaven and on earth.
So it was with Him since that hour of light on the mountain. But the knowledge of all this made Him still more humble as a man on whom such an immense burden had been laid, and still more loving towards those who were sunken in measureless poverty, distress and subjection, resigned to their fate of being lost in blindness and defiance, and yet full of wistful longing for salvation.
The relations between Him and His disciples had also changed since that day. Formerly, although they had treated Him with respect they had always been on familiar terms with Him. Now they were more submissive, more silent, and their respect had become reverence. With some, love had almost become worship. And yet they always fell back into unruliness and timidity. There was one especially who disagreed with much. When, in order to avoid the high roads, they went through the barren district on the other side of Jordan, and endured all sorts of hardships and privations, the disciple Judas could not forbear uttering his thoughts. He had nothing to do now as treasurer of the little band, so he had plenty of time to spread discouragement behind the Master’s back. Why should not the Messiah’s train of followers appear in fitting brilliance? He explained what Jesus taught about death as implying that when the beggar prophet died, the glorious Messiah would appear! But why first in Jerusalem? Why should they not assume their high position in the interval; why were the honours of the new era not already allotted?