For Kahlil Gibran, re-telling the story of Jesus had been the ambition of a life time. He had known it from childhood, when as a poor boy in the Middle-East, he'd been taught by a priest reading the bible with him. Now, in his maturity - and a successful writer in the USA - he wanted tell the story as no one had told it before. With 'Jesus, the Son of Man', (1928) he did just that; set alongside Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, here is 'The Gospel according to Gibran.' Gibran's approach is to allow the reader to see Jesus through the eyes of a large and disparate group of people. Some of these characters will be familiar: amongst others, we hear from Peter; Mary his mother; Luke; Pontius Pilate, Thomas and Mary Magdalene. But many other characters are new, created by Gibran, including a Jerusalem cobbler, an old Greek shepherd - and the mother of Judas. 'My son was a good man and upright,' she tells us. 'He was tender and kind to me, and he loved his kin and his countrymen.' What connects these people is the fact that they all have an opinion about Jesus; though no two opinions are the same. 'The Galilean was a conjuror, and a deceiver,' says a young priest. But then a woman caught in adultery experienced him in a different way. 'When Jesus didn't judge me, I became a woman without a tainted memory, and I was free and my head was no longer bowed.' Not all the women like him, however. A widow in Cana, whose son is a follower, remains furious: 'That man is evil! For what good man would separate a son from his mother?' While a lawyer has mixed feelings: 'I admired him more as a man than as a leader. He preached something beyond my liking; perhaps beyond my reason.' A philosopher is in awe, however: 'His senses were continually made new; and the world to him was always a new world.' With each fresh voice, a different aspect of Jesus' character is explored; and a different reaction named. Gibran concludes by reminding us that all the characters and attitudes presented in the story live on in the world today, with nothing different now from then. The Logician is clear in his distrust: 'Behold a man disorderly, against all order; a mendicant opposed to all possessions; a drunkard who would only make merry with rogues and castaways.' But for Gibran himself, whose Lebanese roots placed him close to the original steps of the Galilean, Jesus is worth rather more; and is present still: 'But Master, Sky-heart, knight of our fairer dream, You do still tread this way. No bows nor spears shall stray your steps; You walk through all our arrows. You smile down upon us, And though you are the youngest of us all, You father us all. Poet, Singer, Great Heart! May our God bless your name.'

Known for his evocative book The Prophet, Gibran's most original work delineates madness ― the existential angst of melancholy and misfortune that separates the individual from society, not a formal mental illness. Gibran contrasts the normal individual who conforms to society’s class, role, law, and behavior, with one who sees through hypocrisy, semblance, power, and judges others as ignorant, deceived, or treacherous -- the madman. While the world classifies him as mad, he is the wise one.

HOW I BECAME A MADMAN consists of 34 short multi-paragraph sketches, vignettes, parables, and tales composed in a Nietzschean prophetic voice, the insights of Blake, and Eastern story-tellers. The opening passage presents Gibran's theme of madness as social separation:

“You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen -- the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives. I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves."

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, "He is a madman." I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.”

Gibran shows that we wear masks to get along society that demands conformity for collective purposes, whereas to act without a mask, to think and speak and behave without the veil of illusion is to be mad. While being maskless frees us, it carries a risk of loneliness and misunderstanding as we become estranged from others. The Madman goes unnoticed, not listened to, and pitied by others.

The press for conformity absorbs society like nothing else. When we look beneath the masks of daily life, we find hypocrisy, greed, pride, sloth, ambition, vanity, conformity. These people do not see anything wrong with the ways of the world. Instead, in madness there is wisdom.

In HOW I BECAME A MADMAN a youth wants but to be himself, not what his parents and family demand he be, so he has fled to a madhouse ―his hermitage ― to be what he wants to be.

This is a heart-felt critique of hypocrisy, wealth, arrogance, and power versus the individual. Who has learned to disengage, to keep a distance while nevertheless relating to others with compassion and kindness.

(Kahill Gibran)