Christ is the lamb which the eagle swoops down upon, the dove taken by
the hawk, the deer which the tiger devours.
What then, if a man come to me with a sword, to kill me, and I do not
resist him, but suffer his sword and the death from his sword, what am
I? Am I greater than he, am I stronger than he? Do I know a consummation
in the Infinite, I, the prey, beyond the tiger who devours me? By my
non-resistance I have robbed him of his consummation. For a tiger knows
no consummation unless he kill a violated and struggling prey. There is
no consummation merely for the butcher, nor for a hyena. I can rob the
tiger of his ecstasy, his consummation, his very __my non-resistance. In
my non-resistance the tiger is infinitely destroyed.
But I, what am I? 'Be ye therefore perfect.' Wherein am I perfect in
this submission? Is there an affirmation, behind my negation, other than
the tiger's affirmation of his own glorious infinity?
What is the Oneness to which I subscribe, I who offer no resistance in
the flesh?
Have I only the negative ecstasy of being devoured, of becoming thus
part of the Lord, the Great Moloch, the superb and terrible God? I have
this also, this subject ecstasy of consummation.
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