Jesus Knocks at Heaven's Door

Barbara Young, author of the book "This Man from Lebanon," said: "I came in to Gibran and found him seated at his desk, scattered papers before him bearing various thoughts on various subjects. When he received me with a greeting, I felt his soul quivering in his palm to welcome me.

We sat probing the unknown reaches of existence, to arrive at its landmarks. We sat fixing the value of things and the elements of mankind. And Gibran gave every thought its proof; and when I asked him about the value of things, he smiled, took a yellow sheet of paper from his desk, and said: What is the value of this sheet?

I said: It has no value except in relation to what it is worth; and since it is worth nothing, it has no value.

Gibran fell silent, took a pen, and began to write on the yellow sheet. When he finished, I read a poem whose value I did not know how to fix, for it is the essence of the mercy and compassion that Christ breathed into his Gospel. And here is the poem!"

Open your door, Father — open your door!
I come to you with my companions, the best of comrades.
All of them long to enter, for we are all sons of your heart.
So open your door!

*

My hand is knocking at your door, Father.
At my right hand is the thief who was crucified with me this day;
but he is a gentle soul, seeking hospitality in your eternal house,
for he was hungry — he stole a loaf for his hungry children.
So he was imprisoned, then crucified, knowing within himself
that you will be gladdened by the light of his eyes...

*

Open your door, Father — open your door!
The woman who offered herself a burnt offering to love is coming with me.
She covers the nakedness of her body with my robe,
and bares her soul that heaven may see her wounds.
They stoned her and said she was an adulteress,
and the stone-throwers were men who had all known her.
But I held them back from stoning her, for I knew that in your heart is a balm for the wounds of humiliation in the souls of the weak.
The violets have not withered in her eyes, and April is still upon her lips.
As for her hands, they still bear the harvest of your days, and she seeks entrance to your house.

*

Open your door, Father — open your door! A man who has killed comes with me,
a man on whose face the dawn breaks softly,
after the heat of the sun had lain upon his arms,
and the sap of your earth had run in his veins!
He sought meat for his family; and in the place where he brought down the quarry,
flesh was forbidden — and what was he to do,
with his bow and arrow gathered ready for the shot?
So a killer keeps my company at this hour, for dawn upon the earth has become a season for killing.
He asks for morning, that the sun may pour down upon his arms...

*

Open your door, Father — open your door!
I bring you a drunkard! He gazed long into the cup
and saw your stars reflected in the clear wine,
so he drank his fill, to rise above the earth and reach your heaven —
and he fell on the road, for he rushed forth unarmed, without faith.
When I found him fallen outside the inn, I lifted him up,
and he walked with me laughing half the way;
and now he weeps, and he is still in my company, for kindness has wounded his feelings.
His soul thirsts to sit at your table, and therefore I have brought him to your door.

*

Open, Father — open your door!
Here I am, accompanied by a gambler,
a man who wished to turn his silver spoon into a golden sun.
He is like one of your spiders, weaving the web
and then waiting for the fly that hunted the little insects.
And yet he lost, as all gamblers lose.
And I knew from his eyes that his silver had not turned to gold, nor remained silver,
so I called him into my company to look upon their faces, for we are coming
to the fertile land beyond the hills of life.
He is with us; he has left his spoon for love of the sight of you.

*

Open your door, Father — open your door!
Here are my companions! I have brought them from near and far.
They were afraid, and dared not come with me;
but when I proclaimed to them your justice and your grace,
their fears became hallelujahs.
So open your door — there is no need of Hell and Purgatory,
for you and heaven endure,
and man upon the earth is the son of your great heart.