of the temple and said to you, “If you would know whether you are the Son of God, then cast yourself down, for it is written: the angels shall hold him up lest he fall and bruise himself, and you shall know then whether you are the Son of God and shall prove then how great is your faith in your Father.” But you refused and would not cast yourself down. Oh! of course, you did proudly and well, like God; but the weak, unruly race of men, are they gods? Oh, you knew then that in taking one step, in making one movement to cast yourself down, you would be tempting God and would have lost all your faith in him, and would have been dashed to pieces against that earth which you came to save. And the wise spirit that tempted you would have rejoiced.
“‘But I ask again, are there many like you? And could you believe for one moment that men too could face such a temptation? Is the nature of men such that they can reject miracles and at the great moments of their life, the moments of their deepest, most agonizing spiritual difficulties, cling only to the free verdict of the heart? Oh, you knew that your deed would be recorded in books, would be handed down to remote times and the utmost ends of the earth, and you hoped that man, following you, would cling to God and not ask for a miracle. But you did not know that when man rejects miracles, he rejects God too; for man seeks not so much God as the miraculous. And as man cannot bear to be without the miraculous, he will create new miracles of his own for himself and will worship deeds of sorcery and witchcraft, though he might be a hundred times over a rebel, heretic, and infidel. You did not come down from the cross when they shouted to you, mocking and reviling you, “Come down from the cross and we will believe that you are he.” You did not come down, for again you would not enslave man by a miracle and craved faith given freely, not based on miracle. You craved love freely given and not the base raptures of the slave before the might that has overawed him forever. But you thought too highly of men therein, for they are slaves, of course, though rebellious by nature. Look round and judge: fifteen centuries have passed; look upon them. Whom have you raised up to yourself? I swear, man is weaker and baser by nature than you have believed him! Can he, can he do what you did? By showing him so much respect, you did, as it were, cease to feel for him for you asked far too much from him – you who have loved him more than yourself! Respecting him less, you would have asked less of him. That would have been more like love, for his burden would have been lighter. He is weak and vile. What though he is everywhere now rebelling against our power, and proud of his rebellion? It is the pride of a child and a schoolboy. They are little children rioting and barring out the teacher at school.
“‘But their childish delight will end; it will cost them dear. They will cast down temples and drench the earth with blood. But they will see at last, the foolish children, that though they are rebels, they are impotent rebels, unable to keep up their own rebellion. Bathed in their foolish tears, they will recognize at last that he who created them rebels must have meant to mock at them. They will say this in despair, and their utterance will be a blasphemy that will make them more unhappy still, for man’s nature cannot bear blasphemy, and in the end always avenges it on itself. And so unrest, confusion, and unhappiness – that is the present lot of man after you bore so much for their freedom!
“‘Your great prophet tells in vision and in image that he saw all those who took part in the first resurrection and that there were of each tribe twelve thousand. But if there were so many of them, they must have been gods, not men. They had borne your cross, they had endured scores of years in the barren, hungry wilderness, living upon locusts and roots – and you can indeed point with pride at those children of freedom, of love freely given, of free and splendid sacrifice for your name. But remember that they were only some thousands – and what of the rest? And how are the other weak ones to blame because they could not endure what the strong have endured? How is the weak soul to blame that it is unable to receive such terrible gifts? Can you have simply come to the elect and for the elect? But if so, it is a mystery and we cannot understand it. And if it is a mystery, we too have a right to preach a mystery and to teach them that it’s not the free judgment of their hearts, not love that matters, but a mystery that they must follow blindly, even against their conscience. So we have done.
“‘We have corrected your work and have founded it upon miracle, mystery, and authority. And men rejoiced that they were again led like sheep and that the terrible gift that had brought them such suffering was at last lifted from their hearts. Were we right teaching them this? Speak! Did we not love mankind when so meekly acknowledging their feebleness, lovingly lightening their burden, and permitting their weak nature even sin with our sanction?
“‘Why have you come now to hinder us? And why do you look silently and searchingly at me with your mild eyes? Be angry. I don’t want your love, for I love you not. And what use is it for me to hide anything from you? Don’t I know to whom I am speaking? All that I can say is known to you already. And is it for me to conceal from you our mystery? Perhaps it is your will to hear it from my lips. Listen, then. We are not working with you but with him – that is our mystery. It’s long – eight centuries – since we have been on his side and not on yours. Just eight centuries ago, we took from him what you rejected with scorn, that last gift he offered you, showing you all the kingdoms of the earth. We took from him Rome and the sword of Caesar, and proclaimed ourselves sole rulers of the earth, though hitherto we have not been able to complete our work. But whose fault is that?
“‘Oh, the work is only beginning, but it has begun. It has long to await completion and the earth has yet much to suffer, but we shall triumph and shall be Caesars, and then we shall plan the universal happiness of man. But you might even then have taken the sword of Caesar. Why did you reject that last gift? Had you accepted that last counsel of the mighty spirit, you would have accomplished all that man seeks on earth – that is, someone to worship, someone to keep his conscience, and some means of uniting all in one unanimous and harmonious ant heap; for the craving for universal unity is the third and last anguish of men. Mankind as a whole has always striven to organize a universal state. There have been many great nations with great histories, but the more highly they were developed the more unhappy they were, for they felt more acutely than other people the craving for worldwide union. The great conquerors, Timurs and Genghis Khans, whirled like hurricanes over the face of the earth striving to subdue its people, and they too were but the unconscious expression of the same craving for universal unity. Had you taken the world and Caesar’s purple, you would have founded the universal state and have given universal peace. For who can rule men if not he who holds their conscience and their bread in his hands? We have taken the sword of Caesar, and in taking it we of course have rejected you and followed him. Oh, ages are yet to come of the confusion of free thought, of their science and cannibalism. For having begun to build their tower of Babel without us, they will end with cannibalism. But then the beast will crawl to us and lick our feet and spatter them with tears of blood. And we shall sit upon the beast and raise the cup, and on it will be written, “Mystery.” But then, and only then, the reign of peace and happiness will come for men.
“‘You are proud of your elect, but you have only the elect, while we give rest to all. And besides, how many of those elect, those mighty ones who could become elect, have grown weary waiting for you and have transferred and will transfer the powers of their spirit and the warmth of their heart to the other camp and end by raising their free banner against you. You yourself lifted up that banner. But with us all will be happy and will rebel no more nor destroy one another as under your freedom.
“‘Oh, we shall persuade them that they will only become free when they renounce their freedom to us and submit to us. And shall we be right or shall we be lying? They will be convinced that we are right, for they will remember the horrors of slavery and confusion to which your freedom brought them. Freedom, free thought, and science will lead them into such straits and will bring them face to face with such marvels and insoluble mysteries that some of them, the fierce and rebellious, will destroy themselves; others, rebellious but weak, will destroy one another; while the rest, weak and unhappy, will crawl fawning to our feet and whine to us: “Yes, you were right, you alone possess his mystery, and we come back to you – save us from ourselves!”
Receiving bread from
