As he spoke these words, one who had eagerly listened moved from the rear toward him. The man stood head and shoulders above any other of the number and his face was disfigured with a deep and desperate scar across one cheek. He listened intently as a speech-maker said to the Phoenician:
"And is this Galilean wiser and braver than Sparticus? Did not this noble lover of human liberty slay Roman legions as a fierce wind strikes down forest leaves? And yet was he not at last hacked to bits and his loyal followers hung on crosses to fatten birds of prey?"
"Aye, but Sparticus was betrayed by one of his own," a voice called.
"So will the Galilean be betrayed," came the reply.
"The Galilean hath a great following of men strong and zealous who would go with him to the death."
"Were not the Lusitanians strong and brave? Was not Lusitania ravished and stripped? And who remained after the massacre of Galba? Success cometh not by uprising but by forming one great brotherhood which, when formed, will command all power."
The discussion following these different opinions had scarce begun when the torch-bearer touched the Phoenician on the arm saying, "Thou hast opened the gates of controversy, yet we can not tarry to the end. Follow thy guide."
As they turned to go, the visitor felt his hand caught in a mighty grip and turned to see a scarred face gazing intently upon him. "Thou hast looked upon his face—the face of Jesus?" he asked the Phoenician in a whisper.
"Yea. In the home of his brethren have I been with him. But what dost thou know of this Jesus?"
"That which my heart knoweth, my lips can not express save that I love him. And in your ear would I whisper the knowledge you much desire."
"Let us move into the dark," the torch-bearer said, and they left the chamber. Under a sealed shelf of bones they stopped. The scarred man of great size and the bearded Phoenician stood in the dim light of the torch held at a little distance, by the bearer.
"This thou couldst know," said the man of the scar. "The strength of the Roman legions will not be in Jerusalem at the time of Passover. Weak will be the forces of the Tower of Antonio."
"How knowest thou this?" and there was eagerness in the question.
"My lips are sealed further. Yet as I love the Galilean, my words come to thee from the mouth of official Rome."
"Wilt thou be at the Passover?"
"That is my hope."
"And wilt thou lend aid in making the Galilean a king?"
"He is already a king—and more."
The Phoenician looked inquiringly into the calm eyes of the unknown.
"King of my heart he is." The words were offered as an explanation. "Whether there is wisdom in acclaiming him a king over mankind, I know not. From his own lips would I get my 'Yea' or 'Nay.'"
After Jael, the fisherman, had seen the warring waves of the Sea of Galilee calmed by an exercise of universal power, self-centered, the desire of his heart had been to see again the childhood friend he had called king. This, however, did not come about for a number of months. Shortly after the storm, the Galilean Prophet had gone on a long pilgrimage, rumor only telling where. Moved by his great hope for the healing of Sara and impatient at long delay, Jael, when he chanced to hear that Jesus had turned his face homeward, forsook his nets, and burdened by no more possessions than his staff and the scrip he hung over his shoulder, he set out on the Damascus road leading north. As he went he inquired of travelers along the way for one Jesus, a Galilean Prophet. But it was not until he reached Magdala that he got news. Here he overheard a party of pilgrims who stopped for the night, telling about a wonder worker who was camping on the Plain of Gennesaret a few miles to the north. The blind son of one of the party had received almost instant sight by the application of clay to his eyes at the hands of this wonder worker.
With this information Jael hurried forward toward the Plain, sore of foot, yet glad of heart, for he had no doubt the wonder worker was Jesus. As he journeyed the twilight gave way to the dark, and innumerable stars came forth. But it was not a light in the heavens the eye of the fisherman watched for, rather a red glow near the earth line. When he finally saw this it was as strength to his tired feet. Soon the outlines of a tent became visible and the bodies of two men lying by the fire. The approach of Jael was announced by the barking of a dog which kept him at a distance until repeated shouting brought a sleepy man to the tent door.
"Doth there rest here a Galilean, by name Jesus?" the fisherman called.
Before the tent dweller had answered, one of the men by the fire called, "Jael! Jael—come hither!"
Forgetting the blisters on his feet, the stiff muscles of his legs and the savage barking of the dog, Jael ran to the man by the fire shouting, "Yea, Lord! I come! I come!"
With his head lying against his hand which was in turn supported by an elbow resting on the ground, Jesus lay in his undergarment, his traveling coat thrown over a tent stake near by. "Sit thee down and rest, Jael," he said. "The friend at my side is a Hindoo of great wisdom and knowledge of the stars. When I traveled in far lands he was to me as a brother. Well be it thy steps have led thee to cross his path while he travels with this caravan if thou wouldst gather knowledge of Sara."
"Sara!" Jael exclaimed. "By what mystery is the desire of my heart known to thee ere my lips have spoken?"
"Mystery?" Jesus repeated. "There is no mystery. There is only understanding."
"Thy words have a sound but their meaning I know not, if thou art not a miracle worker."
"All mind is one mind. He who knoweth himself knoweth also his brother. If I loved the maiden Sara as thou lovest her, would not the desire of my heart give me an understanding of the desire of thy heart?"
"If thou dost know a man's love for a maiden, then wilt thou of thy man pity and thy god-power, give aid to Jael?"
"Hast thou aught of the maiden's which lay upon her naked body?" Jesus said.
From his coat Jael took a small bit of cloth suspended like an ornament on a neck cord and holding it toward Jesus said, "Her littletallith."
"Put it in the hand of the Wise Man."
Drawing himself into a sitting position, the Hindoo took thetallith, pressed it into the palm of his hand and sat for a short time without speaking.
"Her hair was abundant and dark," he presently said, speaking more to himself than to Jael. "Her face was ruddy and her eyes were bright like sunshine dancing on quick waters. She was supple of body and worked among fish-nets. Overcome in a great struggle she was borne away and made unclean of body and hopeless at heart. She wandered about, an outcast, in the land of her fathers until at last she crept away to die."
A curse broke from the lips of Jael and his hand moved quickly toward his belt as he exclaimed, "When I find him—! But first I must find her. Where is Sara now?"
"Even now doth she lie in a bed of rushes which the waves of Jordan have washed against a bleaching sycamore. Here, while she waiteth death, the serpent that hath wrought her downfall doth circle her though she knoweth it not."
"God of my fathers!" Jael groaned.
"What is thy request, Jael?" Jesus asked.
"That Sara be made clean and given again to Jael."
"Dost thou know what thou asketh? From thee the woman hath been taken by the serpent. If thou wouldst possess her, to the place of the serpent must thou go and conquer him. Then shall the woman be free and with the freedom of the woman shall come thy victory. Wouldst thou go?"
"Yea, yea! Direct my pathway."
"Hear then the words of the Wise Man of the East."
"Lift thine eyes to the heavens," the Hindoo said. "Seest thou SevenStars where they shine in their constellation?"
"Nay. But six I see."
"Look again."
"My eyes behold six."
"Thou must see seven."
After keeping his face to the sky some minutes Jael exclaimed, "Another shineth afar. This is seven."
"The way thou takest will lead thee from the place of Seven Stars to the place of the serpent. Look thou well into the eyes of the stars. And when thou dost look into the snake's eyes that ever glitter, remember that all light be one light though according to its use it hath contrary powers."
He held the littletallithagainst his forehead for a moment with upturned face and said, "Thou wilt start thy journey under seven stars. When they fade from the heavens stop by the roadside and take thy rest in sleep. Thou wilt be awakened by the flutter of wings and on opening thy eyes will see six birds. Follow their flight with the eye and thou wilt look to the east from whence cometh the light. Keep thee on the highway toward Bethsaida. When the sun is well risen shall thine eyes behold five palms, strong and stately. When thou comest near thou shalt see children playing where the tall palms cast their shades. They shall be chasing lambs and throwing lilies and shouting with glad voices. As thy feet pause here, remember this: All life is one life. Beside this there is no other whether it seem to thine eye a palm tree, a shouting child, a ewe lamb or a lily. Think on this as thou, the man, doth seek the desire of thy heart, thy woman.
"When thou hast passed through Bethsaida and come out upon the other side thou wilt overtake a herdsman driving four shabby and much smelling goats. And the hands of the man shall be like unto the hoofs of the beast for filth and his visage shall be like that of a wild he-goat. Of this man inquire if there are those unclean beyond Bethsaida and of his reply learn that a beast be not told by the number of his legs. . . . .
"When thou dost draw near Capernaum three geese will seek to turn thee aside. Thy toes will they peck at with much hissing and the hem of thy garment will their necks lift angry beaks to. Tarry not, neither kick nor curse them. They are but birds to tempt the foolish. Waste not thy effort on them. . . . .
"When thou hast cleared the North Gate of this city, keep to the Damascus road until it reach the walls of Chorazin. When thou reachest the South Gate of the city two dogs shall draw nigh. And the one shall be hairy and water-eyed; and the other shall be lean and warty. And when thou passeth under the gate shall they likewise pass under, the one before thee and the one behind. Close to the wall on the inside shall the fore dog trot. Keep thou in his tracks. He goeth to a fish stall. When thy feet reach this fish market let thine eyes look for a hag that doth sit near a dung heap taking the heads from fish. When she seeth the dogs she will curse. Then shalt thou help her drive the dogs away and she shall speak. Forget not what she saith of the marsh path, and beyond.
"When thou hast left Chorazin keep thee going until thou hath passed a peasant thrashing with the drag. Here turn aside from the road to the right and go straight until thou comest to a grove of carib trees. Now rest thy feet but use thine eyes and ears. Thou art not far from the Jordan. Searching to the right thine eyes will see the willows on the banks and thine ear will hear the fall of water over stones. To the right of the caribs turn and soon thou shalt come to a marsh. Remember now the words of the hag and shortly shall the waters of the Jordan greet thy eye. Thou wilt see a place beyond a flat stone where the waters lie quiet as in a basin. Yet beyond this is a bed of rushes washed against a dead sycamore. In the leaves look thou for the serpent. In the bed lieth the woman whose enemy, though she knoweth it not, doth encircle her. Like two sparks broken from the sun will the eyes hidden in the rushes look into thy eyes. From the Seven Stars to the Serpent hast thou now made thy way. If thou be victorious over the serpent, back to the stars will thy feet be turned. If thy faith fail utterly, the serpent will have victory over both man and woman and there will come death instead of life."
"At thy strange words I wonder—but—" and he turned to Jesus: "Thou art the King—thou art the wonder worker. By what means shall I gain victory over this serpent that hath Sara encircled?"
"This be the victory—even thy faith, Jael," Jesus answered. "What things soever thou desirest when thou prayeth, believe that thou hast them and they shall be thine. To the woman, which I bid thee bring again to me, carry thou this gospel of salvation—'As a man thinketh in his heart,so is he.' There is no bondage to uncleanness or to darkness when the mind of man thinks purity and light. He who thinksStrengthis at last aConqueror. Take now thy littletallithand if thy faith fail thee, from the touch of it may new strength come. Go, Jael."
According to directions Jael made his way. He was aroused by the sweep of wings passing toward the east. He heard the children singing underneath the palms and beyond Bethsaida he overtook the herdsman.
"Are there those unclean beyond the city?" he asked him.
"Nay, for with dogs and staves drive we the unclean away. Sad was the plight of the last who came this way. A woman she had once been. Now came she like a creeping thing, lean of flesh, eaten of sores, and when the dogs and staves of the city rabble had driven her far, then did my goat with the broken horn butt her into a sharp ravine."
"Was her right leg swollen at the knee?"
"Yea, and the goat did break it with his head."
"And her right arm—had it sores?"
"Yea, sores until blow flies chased her even down there among the rocks, and as she did lie, with a stone I broke her foul arm open! A curse upon the scar-ridden bones of the unclean!"
"Verily a beast is not known by the number of his legs," said Jael angrily as the herdsman turned across the plain.
When the fisherman reached Chorazin, the lean and warty dog led him to the place where the hag gutted fish. When she saw the lean dog and the hairy one which followed, she cursed.
"Vile dogs they are, yet there is one thing worse. Scarce a fortnight ago and before the dawn of morning, there was a stirring up of the lentil pods and melon skins cast upon the ground. And when the man of the house looked out, in the light of the moon beheld he a sight fearful to the eye, for one did cry 'Unclean! Unclean!' Wrapped was this evil one in a fisherman's coat yet was she a woman. Then did we shower her with fish long spoiled and with bitter curses, and she crept away. On the evening of the next day came a pilgrim who did tell that he saw one eaten alive of disease and uncleanness, creeping through the marsh toward the Jordan. Feebly did she crawl as if life were all but departed. And if she die not in the marsh then will the life be sucked from her by serpents, for beyond the marsh dwelleth such snakes as creep against the bodies of living things to seek warmth and take from them the life that goeth to make the wisdom of the serpent." And when she had said this, the hag returned to her fish cleaning.
With a sad heart Jael turned from her, yet not without hope. He hastened on, keeping to directions. He saw the willows by the watercourse and heard the murmur of the river. He cleared the marsh. He came to the still pool. He saw the bed of rushes piled by the spring flood against the bleached sycamore. All was as pictured by the Wise Man of the East. Softly he made his way toward the bed of rushes with eyes keenly watching for the serpent When he had come near he stopped. A sore and loathsome hand lay over the top of the bed of rushes. Underneath it two bright sparks suddenly appeared. Looking close Jael saw the head of a serpent and that its body lay concealed under the leaves, yet so like its surroundings was it that it seemed to be but a part of them.
The eye of the serpent was both cunning and evil. Under its first glitter Jael took a backward step. Emboldened by this move the serpent thrust out a barbed and rapidly scintillating tongue. Instinctively the fisherman thrust his fingers against the littletallith, the touch of which aroused in him a mighty passion, for in the face of the serpent he now saw the lust of the Roman who had taken Sara. A swift and terrible wrath swept over him. He drew his knife and with an oath sprang forward. As he did so there was a soft rustling of dead rushes—and the sparks of light and the twinkling tongue were gone and though he did not notice it, the hand resting just above where the venomous head had lain, was trembling violently.
"Lord, I believe!" shouted Jael in trumpet tones. "Help thou mine unbelief!"
The ringing voice broke the stillness sharply. It was an echoing wail that called from behind the rushes, "Unclean! Unclean!"
"Knowest thou not who standeth near thee? Sara, lift up thy head!"
Slowly a head appeared above the bed of rushes. Dark eyes were sunken deep in an emaciated and ashy face. "Jael!" The name was called with great effort in a thin and rasping voice. "Unclean, Jael!"
"Nay, nay, my Sara!" He shouted with a glad voice. "Thou art not unclean! Jesus of Nazarethhath cleansed thee alreadyif in thy heart thou believest thou art clean. He hath bidden me bring thee to him, clean,clean."
"Thou hast come too late!" the wailing voice called back. "Thou canst do nothing for me."
"Nay. Nothing can I do. But he—Jesus of Nazareth—can do all things.He hath all power on sea and land, in air and sky, in heaven and hell!There is nothing this wonder worker can not do. Lift up thine arms asthou wilt lift them before his face when thou comest into his presence.Clap thy hands! Open thy mouth and shout! Shout, Sara!"
For a moment there was silence only broken by the running water of the Jordan. Then the stillness was again broken by a scream and the one word, "Jael!" The cry came from the bed of rushes and was in strong contrast to the rasping effort of the moment before. "Jael! Jael!" Again the sharp scream.
"What is it, my Sara?"
"My flesh is coming clean! What meaneth it?"
"Jesus of Nazareth is here. My eyes be holden that I can not see, yetIfeelhim."
"Jael! Jael!" Again it was a scream—a wild, glad, unearthly scream. "My strength is returning. It is pouring into me like sunshine. Jael! My knee! My legs! They are coming clean under my very eyes! Run to me. Hurry! Hurry else the miracle thou mayest not see! The flesh cometh cleanfast. Fast! And the breath of healing bloweth over the running sores! See! They are drying! Look, like scales they are dropping away!"
Before Jael reached the bed Sara had risen on her knees.
"My Jesus!" he shouted in a voice that made the valley ring as he met her face to face. "Sara! Thou art madewhole!"
Even as he spoke she lifted herself with a great shout and left the nest of rushes for the arms of Jael. For a moment he held her as if between the woman and destruction there remained nothing but his arms. Yet the lips of them both were dumb in the first moments of the miracle. Then he held her at arm's length and looked into her face.
"Thou art Jael—surely Jael," she said, "but am I Sara?"
"Yea, yea. And every whit made whole. Feel thou thy hair. Feel thou thy ruddy cheeks. Feel thou thy supple arms and strong young hands as when they tossed the nets," and he drew his fingers over her hair and face and arms.
Again she stood unable to speak. She looked back to the empty bed of rushes and into the face of Jael.
"Feel for thyself," and taking her hand he made it stroke her long hair.
"Let mine eyes bear me witness," and turning toward the still pool she ran fleet footed, and dropped on her hands and knees beside it. So long and carefully she bent above the water, Jael came beside her and looked in to see there her mirrored face. "Look, Jael," she whispered. "Seest thou a face?"
"Yea, thy face, clean and whole."
"Nay—not mine. There is one altogether fair and more beautiful than tongue can tell. It seemeth to look out from mine as though it had always been there, yet it is not mine, but another. My soul telleth me this mighty Jesus hath taken possession of thy Sara."
A moment they tarried by the pool of the Jordan. Then Sara sprang up exclaiming, "Jael—I love thee! I love thee! But there is another I love with a strong love that tongue can not speak. Come! Let us hasten with winged feet to Jesus of Nazareth. Before his face would I shout the joy of my salvation!"
The year between the Passover feasts of 32 and 33 A. D. had been a busy and eventful one in the Bethany household where Jesus made his home during much of the time of his Judean teaching. Out of his frequent visits and the thoughtful ministrations of Mary and Martha had come an intimacy that had cemented the bands of love between them, while Lazarus and the young Rabbi, close as brothers, studied the Law and the Scriptures together.
Through the year Martha and Joel had been making preparations for their marriage which was to take place soon after the Passover and in this wedding Jesus was deeply interested. But the one great event of the year had been the death and resurrection of Lazarus. This strange event had not only been the miracle talk of the home, but it had been widely discussed in Jerusalem.
Passover guests were beginning to throng the highways leading to Jerusalem, and the home at Bethany was set in order for the coming of Joseph of Arimathea and Jesus of Galilee, who were again to be guests of Lazarus. Martha and Joel sat in the big window talking over their own affairs while Mary and Lazarus stood by the table looking over a scroll, all four meantime, listening for the approach of their guests.
"Is it not strange," Lazarus said, "that in the name of those who were stoned yesterday for being prophets, the prophets of to-morrow are stoned to-day."
"There are no good prophets but dead prophets," Mary answered.
"So it seemeth," and Lazarus turned to the scroll and began to read. "The ox knoweth—" The words were interrupted by a knocking at the door which both Mary and Lazarus hastened to answer.
"It is Joseph of Arimathea," said Lazarus.
"Perhaps Jesus cometh first," Mary replied, laughing.
The door was thrown open to Joseph who was greeted warmly, relieved of his cloak and seated for foot-washing.
"Aye, but we are glad to have thee," Lazarus said, shaking his hand.
"The year hath been long since we saw thee last," Mary said, and Martha added, "Thou dost honor us to be our Passover guest."
"The blessing of God be on thee, my daughters, and thou, Lazarus. And,Joel, it seemeth I saw thee here also at the last Passover."
"Yea, indeed," laughed Lazarus. "And art like to find him here next Passover, eh, Martha?" and his laughter called forth a response of merriment from the company.
Before the face of Lazarus had yet straightened into its accustomed good-natured lines, Joseph was looking intently upon it.
"Lazarus, my young friend," he said, stroking his long white beard, "for one that hath been dead thy voice beareth strange meaning. Yea, verily, my ears can not believe what my eyes behold. Of much people have I heard of thy coming from the tomb where thou hast lain four days. Now would I hear from thy lips of this miracle. Wast thou of a surety dead?"
"So sayest those who did entomb me."
"And yet do I see thee alive," and his hand came to a rest on his flowing beard as he studied Lazarus.
"So do I bear witness," Martha said, laughing. "Though it has been weeks since the strange thing came to pass, yet doth he devour food as doth the grasshopper that eateth clean the face of the earth."
"Ha! ha! Four days be a good fast to one not given to fasting,"Lazarus replied to Martha.
"Herein is a marvel," and the hand of Joseph still lay quiet against his beard. "Thou sayest thou wert dead?"
"Nay. I said those who did entomb me so said."
"The Law doth teach," and Joseph moved his hand down his beard slowly, "that when the sword of death doth enter the soul of man from its cruel point doth a drop of corruption enter into the flesh, of which death maketh more corruption. The sword of death did enter thy soul, but not the drop of corruption?"
"Of this I bear testimony," Martha quickly answered. "I feared greatly to have the tomb opened lest the stench of corruption should sicken the mourners."
"And there was no stench?" said Joseph, turning to Martha.
"None save the odor of grave spices."
"Then of a fact there must be death from which there is an awakening."
"Yea, surely." It was Lazarus who answered. "In days of old did not the prophets make some to sneeze and sit up on their biers while others might not sneeze for all the prophets?"
"Much have I heard of prophets raising the dead. Yet had none turned to corruption."
"Even Jesus doth make no claim of bringing back to life those whose flesh hath turned black."
Joseph made no reply to the last speech of Lazarus, but turned to Mary and said, "What thinketh thou?"
"As my brother hath spoken," she replied. "There is one death, and there is another death. Into one hath corruption entered. Into the other it hath not. Hath not Jesus made this plain? Yet because of their ignorance do the people not understand. When he did enter the house of Jarius, synagogue ruler at Capernaum, to raise his daughter, did he not tell them plainly the damsel was not dead? Yet wept they and howled. And when he sought to quiet them by again saying, 'She sleepeth only,' did they laugh him to scorn. But when he did take the little damsel by the hand and bid her arise, she awakened. Then did the shout go up, 'A miracle! A miracle!' The Master doth thus teach there is a death from which the sleeper may be awakened. How cruel it is to seal such dead in the tomb!"
"Thou hast spoken, Mary," Joseph answered. "Fearful it is." Then he turned to Lazarus. "Canst tell how thy soul did feel as thou didst pass into the state of the dead?"
"Of feeling I had no knowledge. The incantations of the physician grew feeble as the buzzing of a bee. The pleading of Martha reached my ears like a child's call over a vast mountain, and the eyes of Mary, rimmed in tears, did sink into darkness like stars in a far sky and then go out. Yea, sight, sound, feeling, even knowledge of my own soul faded away—for how long I know not. They do tell me it was four days. Once as I lay asleep I did feel something like a cold flutter and faint touch across my cheek as in a dream, and from a great distance seemed to come the scent of spice. Then did something startle me. Aye, the blood in my veins which had refused to run, gave a mighty leap forward, there came a flood of air and a great burst of sunlight which did shine through my being, and I awoke and did walk from the tomb in obedience to the voice that called me forth—it was the voice of Jesus."
Joseph shook his head slowly saying, "I understand not. Herein lieth a mystery."
"Yea, a mystery," Lazarus repeated.
"A mystery to those who understand not," Mary said. "But to the Master it seemeth to be no mystery. Once when I sat with him upon the house-top and marveled at the mystery of music, he did tell me that the soul of man is made of Waves of Being. Yet did I not understand until again he taught me. And this have I gathered of his wondrous wisdom—all Time and all Space, and all Power that moves therein is a Great Sea of Waves of Being. And the soul of man is like a tiny cupful of the Waves of Being, dipped from this sea that lieth between endless shores. And for a time these waves run to and fro in that which hath the form of a man. Then do they depart into another form that the eye beholdeth not. But whether these Waves of Being are making motion in the Great Sea of the Universe or the soul of man, they are one and the same waves, so that from a great force without is a great force within played upon, and we call it a mystery. Yet, when he had told all this I did not understand clearly, nor when he called the Great Sea by the name of 'God' and the soul of man a little God. But when he called this Universal Sea of Waves of Being by the name of 'Love,' then had he reached my understanding, for under the teaching of Jesus, the Master, hath my own soul come to know a love boundless as the Sea of Being itself. Since God is love, and God is life, it cometh that love is life and according as a man loveth, be it much or little, so doth he possess the powers of life. So all things are possible according as one hath the power of loving. Is it strange therefore that to him who loveth as Jesus doth, uncommon power be given? Thereisa mystery.It is the mystery of love."
"What eye is this that thou seest these things with, Mary?" Joseph asked, after a moment of silence.
"Sometimes," she answered, smiling, "methinks I have a third eye that hath long been sealed, but under the teaching of him whom we love, is opening to the light."
"Thou art a wise disciple."
"Much wisdom is required of those to whom much opportunity is given. Many of these things are grave yet simple, even as the fulfillment of the Law by casting the Law aside is grave, yet simple."
"Mary," said Joel, "thy speeches ofttimes sound simple, yet are thy words like a keen blade in a soft kid case. Thy talk would disturb my peace of mind had I time to think on it."
"What doth now threaten to disturb thy peace of mind, Joel?" Lazarus asked.
"In the setting aside of the Law I see great danger, yet Jesus is ever so doing. Lo, it hath come to my ears that he hath declared no writing of divorcement be given by a man, save for one reason."
"Even so, what matter?" Lazarus asked.
"Hath it not been since the days of Moses that a man be the rightful head of the woman, and to him is given power to put her away when his judgment sees fit?"
"Yea, for spoiling his mutton."
"And what man chooseth to dine on spoiled mutton?"
"Or scorching his porridge?"
"Scorched porridge maketh not a sweet temper for a man."
"Or speaking back with a sharp tongue?"
"Shouldst not a woman's tongue be meek in the presence of her husband?"
"And in thine own memory," Lazarus said to Joel as a climax, "hath not a Rabbi put away an old and faithful wife for a fresh and ruddy one, for no reason save her lack of freshness?"
"So doth the Law give man his right," Joel answered.
"And now cometh a Teacher who sayeth to this sort 'Nay!'" And Lazarus laughed, for concern was written on the face of Joel as he spoke again.
"Canst thou not see whereunto this liberty to women will lead? Aye, even there may come a time when women will be allowed to give a man a writing of divorcement."
"Even so,—ha! ha! If he doth beat her with a stick or refuse to feed her, let her do this to him."
"I look for the world to come to a speedy end when the Law and the traditions of the Elders are overturned," and Joel heaved a heavy sigh.
"The traditions of the Elders," Mary repeated. "Often hath the Master spoken of the Elders and their traditions. They claim to sit in the seat of Moses, knowing not that the seat of Moses did pass with the passing of Moses. As saw their fathers, so see they; as spoke their fathers, so speak they; as did their fathers, so try they to do, forgetting this, that as the times of their fathers have perished, so have perished their needs, and with the coming of new generations have come new needs. 'Harken not to these neither now nor in the days to come,' saith the Master. 'They be blind leaders of the blind. Beware thou that man who boasts of changing not.'"
"I perceive that closely thou hast learned of Jesus. Tell me now, wherein, thinkest thou, lieth the secret that shall bring the Kingdom of which he doth ever speak?"
The question was asked Mary by Joseph. She said, "Once was I standing in the far end of the garden where the soil had been made soft for a row of mustard trees. And the seed lay upon the palm of my hand when Jesus did come softly behind me saying, 'What hast thou?' For answer I held forth my hand black with seed like dust. 'Watch thou, Mary,' were his words. 'As the tree doth come from the seed, so cometh the Kingdom.' Then went he on a long journey. Returning he did ask of my garden. Again did we walk to the far end where the wall was hidden by branching mustard trees. And as we drew near the flutter of wings greeted us, and over the garden wall to the olive trees flew the fowls of the air that had gathered in the mustard tree to eat its bright fruit and lodge in its branches. Then again did he speak of the Kingdom saying, 'Lo, from the life of the tiny seed thou held in thine hand hath come this more abundant life. Even so shall the Kingdom come from the seed sowing of Truth. Truth is—'" The words of Mary who had been sitting in the window came to a sudden stop. A step outside had attracted her attention. She sprang up and hastened to put a fresh basin of water by the guest stool at the door. Then she went back to the window and piled cushions in a corner, making ready for a guest. Before she had finished Lazarus was laughing.
"When Mary's hand, without the goad of Martha's tongue, fall diligently to indoor labor, then know we who cometh."
Martha's approaching marriage was of more interest to her than even the solemnity and feasting of the Passover. So it was that on a night preceding the great celebration, the conversation of Mary and Martha turned from the events of the day to a new bridal garment. In the sleeping-room were two handsome carved chests. Beside one of these Martha knelt, while Mary sat at a dressing-table taking down her hair for the night.
"Is not my Persian shawl beautiful and my Arabian veil fair to the eye?" Martha asked proudly, taking them from the chest.
"Yea, but thy robe is more beautiful."
Martha replaced the shawl and veil carefully in the chest and took from it a robe. She rose, draped the garment over her arm and held it under the lamp that burned by Mary's table. "Ah, Mary," she said with pride, "hast thou seen anything more gorgeous? Look thou at the threads of gold and silver and the blue and purple flowers."
"Yea, thou hast a treasure. Fair wilt thou be as a bride, and proud will beat the heart of Joel. And there will be merry music with wine and oil for those who gather along the way to see the procession, and nuts and sweetmeats for the children."
"And there will be myrtle branches and wreaths of flowers and dancing maidens with flowing hair and laughing mouths. But Martha will be the center of all eyes, in snowy veil; and voices all along the way will cheer and hands will clap."
"Yea," laughed Mary, "hands will clap for among the Jews doth not everything give way to a wedding procession and everybody make merry?"
"They say," Martha answered, as she brushed a speck of dust from a flower on her robe, "it was because she oft clapped her hands at wedding that only the hands of Jezebel were left when the dogs ate her flesh."
"So the old women like to tell, but it is no more true than that God had a wedding for Adam and Eve with Michael and Gabriel for groomsmen."
"These sayings sound well, Mary. Why declarest thou they are not true?"
"The understanding of my head doth tell me so. In the days of our fathers there was no marriage save that a man did go out and find her whom his heart loved and take her. If one were not enough, he took two. If two did not suffice, he took three."
"And if three were not enough," Martha observed, laughing, "he took a score."
"Yea, a score. Then thinkest thou our fathers had naught to do but make great processions?"
"Much I like the procession, the veil, the flowers, the sweetmeats and all this that maketh marriage."
"But all this maketh not the marriage, Martha. Naught but love hath power to make the marriage."
"Ever thou maketh much of love, Mary."
"The blessing of the priest can not take the place of it when a man and a woman unite to abide under one roof."
"Maybe so," Martha assented, going back to the chest, "but see thou my girdle of jewels from the Far East. Come thou and look once again at my goodly store. A long time have I been getting my chest filled against the day I am the bride of Joel."
"And an outfit thou hast worthy an Asmonean princess, while my chest hath little in it save my alabaster vase of very precious perfume."
"Fragrant will it make thy wedding veil."
"For this hope I treasure it. And yet—"
The words were stayed by a knocking at the door and the voice of Lazarus shouting in excitement, "Mary! Mary! Open to me the door. I have great news!"
"Yea—yea, we open," Mary answered. "Even the tomb door doth open to thee, my brother."
"Aye, but I have great news—great news!" he exclaimed as he crossed the threshold.
"But thou bearest a sword," Mary said, drawing back. "A sword! What of this sword?"
"Yea, what of the sword?" Martha repeated. "And what is the news?"
"Israel hath a King!" The words were shouted rather than spoken and the hand of Lazarus trembled with excitement against the hilt of the sword he carried.
"Israel hath a King? What meanest thou?" and the tone of Mary's voice showed that she had caught the spirit of excitement from her brother.
"Is the throne of David to be established?" and Martha tucked her jeweled girdle hastily into the chest as she asked the question.
"It is even so, Mary—Martha—and him whom we love hath been acclaimedKing of the Jews!"
"Dost thou mean Jesus—ourJesus?" and Mary lay hold of her brother's sleeve with tight fingers.
"Jesus? The Galilean Rabbi that doth abide underourroof?" andMartha came hastily to the side of Lazarus.
"Yea—yea, verily. It is even this same Jesus!"
"My brother," and Mary stepped in front of him and looked into his eager smiling face, "what strange thing is this thou sayest? Ah, it is too strange that after the long, long years of Israel's bondage the King of the Jews hath come! And stranger far than this if itshould be the Jesus we love."
"But I do swear to you I speak the truth. Thou shouldst have seenJerusalem this day. Thou shouldst have heard the glad hosannahs to theKing, shouted from ten thousand throats!"
"Thou makest my ears to burn!" Martha said, her face glowing with excitement.
"Nay, rather doth my heart burn with a fire of wondrous and holy joy,"Mary said in trembling voice.
"And glad I am that our home hath been his stopping place and that I,Martha, have baked him sparrow pies."
"Rather thank Jehovah that we have been blessed with quiet hours of teaching ere all Israel doth make demands on his wisdom, as did our fathers on the wisdom of Solomon. But, Lazarus, what of the day? Last night he sat with us at meat and no word was spoken of a king. And this morning when thou and Jesus did turn thy faces to Jerusalem, was naught said of so grave a matter."
"Thou speakest the truth, Mary. This morning the Master had no thought of the near coming of the Kingdom, though twice had the people of Galilee called him to be King. But as we journeyed toward Jerusalem, as if it had been well planned, throngs came out from everywhere waving palms and tossing olive branches. Aye, it seemed a forest of olive branches moved along the road and children threw flowers, and mighty was the shouting. As we drew near the city, Jerusalem, hearing the glad shouting, came forth to meet us and as the great gate was neared did the men of Israel spread their garments along the way as when the army of Jehu made a carpet of its coats. With victorious shoutings entered the procession beneath the city gates and with wild waving of palms was the King of the Jews heralded. Not in a hundred years hath the City of Zion witnessed such a sight and the noise of shouting was at times like thunder. Near mine own ear did a zealot shout until methought the top of my skull was tumbling in. And with his shouting did he wave an old red rag which he shook fiercely, as he roared out, 'Thou art the King!' And with him was a woman, young and comely who likewise shouted saying, 'Hosannah! Praise his name!' keeping tight hold of the coat of the man, meantime, because of such a run of joyful tears as blinded her eyes. And these were but two of the multitude. Think ye, my sisters, that the Roman soldiers stood not aside when such a following did pass?"
"Aye, but I like the sound of thy speech," said Martha, smiling and clapping her hands.
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Mary. "But the sword, why the sword?"
"The King hath been acclaimed, but the throne hath yet to be established and swords shall the sons of Judah take up if there be need."
"The spears of Rome are sharp and held by matchless soldiery and Pilate is cruel as the grave and thirsting ever for the blood of Israel."
"Thou speakest, Mary. But when the people rise, even the legions of Rome stand back. Saw we not that this day? Just now the flower of Rome's strength in Palestine hath been sent to Assyria and ere the legions of the Imperial City could reach Jerusalem, will the Tower of Antonio and its stores be in possession of the Jews. With a handful of the following the Master had to-day a Maccabee would take Jerusalem from pagan hands. Shall the followers of him who is greater than David fall short? Rather let the arm of Israel be palsied than to fail when the Kingdom is in sight. Shout, my sisters, for the Kingdom is at hand!"
"Thrice glad am I my wedding garments are gorgeous enough for a king's court," Martha said.
"Talk of a king's court would be pleasant save for the glint of yonder sword. Lazarus, is there harm or danger for him we love in all this thou tellest?" and there was grave concern in Mary's face.
"There hath been dark mutterings and Pilate's wrath will be sore kindled by what hath taken place. But the sons of Judah are brave and the Lion of the Tribe shall prevail."
"Glad I am that ever I have given the Master of the best wine and richest sop!" Martha exclaimed.
"My heart doth rejoice that while he was yet poor, our home hath been his. Even as our fathers did entertain angels unawares, so have we given shelter to a King," Mary said.
"Hath not thy heart from the beginning taken him for a King, Mary?"Lazarus asked. "Yea, eventhyKing?"
"Since first I saw him in the portals of the Temple have I loved him whom thou sayest is to be King."
"So! So!" shouted Martha, laughing. "Even more than a friend may I be to the King of the Jews, for doth not the Master love our Mary?"
"Methought thou hast feigned blindness these months," Lazarus said toMartha.
"Blind was I in the beginning since I took not notice of signs. But, brother, when thou didst die, my eyes came open. After thou hadst been dead four days, and the Master came, methought he would ask straightway concerning thy sickness that did take thee to the tomb, and that he would speak comfort. But not so. Of Mary did he straightway ask and to Mary did he bid me hasten, saying he had come. Aye, even though half Jerusalem had gone to thy grave to mourn did he have eyes for none. And when Mary did come—ah, that thou might'st have seen! At the feet of him did she fall crying, 'Jesus—Jesus, if thou hadst been here my brother had not died!' Tears wet her cheeks as she held her face to his and her voice broke with sobs. Then beholding her, he too did weep. And the Jews which looked on said, 'Behold, how much did he love Lazarus.' Yet did I know he wept not for thee, my brother, but rather because the heart of Mary was nigh broken with sorrow. Thus did the scales drop from my eyes and I did see that the Master loveth our Mary more than us all. So it seemeth good that I may be sister of the King of the Jews."
Mary clasped her hands and lifted her eyes, "The Lord be good!" she said softly. "The Lord be praised! Our brother hath been restored from the tomb and the Master hath been acclaimed King of the Jews, even as good Elizabeth prophesied a year ago."
"And while thou dost lift thy voice in praise, forget not that this is the downfall of that crafty fox of an Idumean who hath climbed to the throne of the Jews by one murder following another murder until the name of Herod is but a hiss. But his days are numbered now!"
While Lazarus had been speaking Martha had turned back to the carved chest and taken out the jeweled girdle. She held it toward Lazarus saying, "Thou hast not yet seen this, my brother, nor my veil."
Lazarus took the jeweled belt and laughed. "It is fine. Anything else, for it doth seem my eyes must behold thy finery before the Kingdom be discussed."
"Look here! See this!" and Martha improved the chance to interest her brother by taking again from the chest the shawl and the robe.
When he had hastily passed approval of them he turned to Mary and said: "Where is thy finery? Open thou thy chest and bring forth thy treasures also."
In reply Mary opened her chest and took out an alabaster vase of rare design. She laughed as she showed it to him saying, "This, my alabaster box of very precious ointment thou gavest me, is all my chest contains, and the seal of it remains unbroken. Yet do I treasure it against the day when it shall make my wedding veil fragrant as a field of lilies. When I am spoken for I will fill my chest with wedding garments as hath Martha."
"And if thou art spoken for by the King of the Jews, like a queen must thou be decked. Glad am I, my sister, that thou art fair. Aye, just now will I deck thee in my wedding garments and see thee shine," and Martha took from the chest a golden scarf, a spangled veil and some strings of beads. With the gold and spangled cloth she draped Mary. The jeweled girdle was coiled about her head like a crown and her flowing hair was hung with strands of shining beads.
When Martha had finished, Lazarus, who stood by looking on with interest, said, "Thou lackest a scepter, Mary. Take thou the sword," and he rested it against her knee and stood back with Martha to get the effect.
"God of our fathers!" Martha exclaimed with smiling face. "Among all the daughters of Jerusalem none is more fair than our Mary."
"But I like it not. Behold! A sword hath been given me and he that hath been called to bring the Kingdom doth ever teach those are blessed who make not war, but who bring peace. Take thou the sword. It doth savor of Rome, of battle-fields, cries of pain, black wings over far fields of death and little children crying for fathers who will come no more. Take thou the sword."
"Not even in the raiment of a queen canst thou forget the words of theMaster. Thou art queer, Mary," Lazarus said as he took the sword.
"Nor do I like the heavy weight of jewels on my brow nor pearls hanging down my hair. Aye, Lazarus, hath not thy lips just passed the word that the poor breathe curses against Herod because that of their nakedness he doth wear jewels, of their starvation doth he fatten with rich food, of their misery doth come his ease even as these things come to Pilate and to Caesar? Should one woman wear on her brow that for which the peasants of Galilee suffer and sweat and toil? Nay, nay. Not such a Kingdom preacheth the Master."
"Thou and the Master doth love peace. So did our father David. Yet was it not the will of God that he lift the sword most mightily? How can a Kingdom come without the sword?"
"I know not the manner of its coming, my brother. But the Kingdom the Master doth preach cometh first within the heart of man. And if the members of a man's life lift up the sword of disagreement between themselves, will the Kingdom be destroyed and not built up."
"I understand not the meaning of thy speech, my sister, and reason telleth me the Kingdom cometh by the sword."
"Great is the mystery of the coming of the Kingdom," Mary assented. "Yet there are hearts that understand what reason never knew or hath forgotten. But go thou now to rest. The day hath been full of wonders—and of weariness, as my eye can see in thy face though it doth glow with joy."
"Yea, the day hath been full of wonders and the morrow will be big with an event which shall be known throughout the earth. In thy dreams to-night, my gentle Mary, shout praises to the King, that thy lips may be shaped for great rejoicing when the new day cometh!"
For several days before the Passover celebration every highway leading to Jerusalem had been ground to fine dust by the hoofs of flocks and herds, and of slow asses laden with coops of doves and by the wheels of carts heavy with lambs—all moving toward the sacrificial knives of the Temple. By the morning of the day preceding that of the Great Feast, at an early hour all was life and excitement in the Outer Court of the Temple. Here booths and stalls had been erected for traffic in everything from oil and wine to graven earrings, and although such was forbidden, yet for more than half a century had the House of Annas grown rich from the tax on Temple traffic and no man had dared speak openly against it.
Not only was this income great, but there were yet greater returns from the tables of the money-changers. From all portions of the world came devout Jews to the Passover each contributing his compulsory half shekel tribute money. As this tax money must by law be paid in Hebrew coin, the money-changing business was established and the favored ones who were allowed to operate in the Temple took the best places which they filled with chests and sacks of Hebrew money, mostly mites and farthings, and with unfilled boxes and bags in which to store the foreign coin taken in at an exorbitant exchange profit. While the tradesmen and stock drivers had begun early to prepare for a season of unusual profit making, the money-changers had not forgotten their interests. Indeed, this aristocracy of profit makers had held council but the night before and agreed on the price of exchange and the extra soldiery necessary for handling such troublesome strangers as might raise objections should a spurious coin lodge in an honest palm. Among the money-lenders none was more keenly alive to his own interests than Zador Ben Amon who by gift-giving and cunning had secured a place for his long table near the steps leading from the Outer Court up to the Beautiful Gate. In addition to this choice place of business, Ben Amon had a gold and silver shop on the other side of the Outer Court and half a dozen more scattered through the city. In each of these places he had trusted salesmen and trusted watchers all of whom he himself watched.
It was early on the morning following the day he had been publicly proclaimed King with such a mighty demonstration, that Jesus made his way over Olivet from Bethany to Jerusalem. As was his pleasure oftentimes, he walked alone. The greater number who had followed him the day before were Galileans and those who camped with them beyond the city walls. These would not have business in the Temple until a later hour nor did he expect recognition that would give him any publicity from strangers or the busy tradesmen. Before the Golden Gate he paused and lifted his eyes. On each side were handsome pillars said to have been brought to Solomon by the Queen of Sheba. But he was not thinking of these. Perhaps he heard the glad hosannahs ringing as they had sounded but a day before. Perhaps it was the bleating of young lambs he heard; perhaps the voice of a woman as she bade him not be late at the day's dinner where he was to be an honored guest.
Standing but a moment he passed under the gate and through the city streets to the Temple. As he entered the portals of Solomon's Porch the babel of many tongues, the ring of hammers and the hoarse shouting of cattle drivers reached his ear and prepared his eye for the picture of activity it would behold in the Outer Court. With every step he took, the noise and confusion grew. Wishing to study the crowd without himself being seen, he climbed on to the marble balustrade of the Outer Court where it ran between two pillars and in the niche thus made concealed himself.
Directly across from where he stood was the table of Zador Ben Amon with two servants already in charge and a watcher to keep his eye on the chests and bags under the table. At this stand business had already begun. A Roman Jew had just left with his good Hebrew coin, and an Egyptian had come up, when a woman with two men stopped in front of the Galilean so that he could no longer see the money-changing going on. The woman wore the garb of a widow. One of the men was a scribe. The other man was a Pharisee. The face of the woman was much troubled and she plead with the scribe and the Pharisee. And when they would have left her she clung to them and passed on thus into the crowd. Very shortly after the three had passed the Galilean, he saw this same scribe at the money table across the way. He seemed to be buying a bag of coins, most likely mites for alms giving.
For half an hour the Galilean Rabbi watched the moving people from where he stood. Then he left the place and went into the Woman's Court. As there could be no traffic carried on here, there were few people and less noise, and he had not gone far when he heard some one weeping. He soon found it to be the widow he had seen a short time before. Without hesitation he approached her. "Why weepest thou?" he asked.
"The inheritance of my father hath been taken from me. The mother of six small men children I am and my husband hath died. And now no place of shelter have I."
"Who hath taken thy home?"
"The scribe took it not—so sayeth he. The Pharisee took it not—so sayeth he. But the two of them have taken my shelter to satisfy the Law—so say they."
"A scribe and a Pharisee. They are wolves in sheep's clothing!"
"Yea—but doth this get back for me my inheritance? Canst thou help me? My husband hath died and I am defrauded of all I possess."
"Silver and gold have I none—yet shall there be a reckoning!"
"My shelter is taken! My husband is dead and there is none to defend me!" and the woman turned her face again to the wall and wept bitterly.
The Galilean stood for a moment. Then he turned back and crossed the Outer Court coming into the porch. Here the sound of a trumpet attracted his attention. It was a Pharisee announcing his time of prayer. And when a crowd had gathered the Pharisee threw back his head and beat his breast until his frontlet dangled, and he thanked God he was not as other men. And lo, it was the one who had robbed the widow. The Galilean felt the flush of anger heat his cheek and he clenched his fist as in childhood days he had done when some injustice demanded relief at his hands. With rising indignation he watched the Pharisee until a part of his long and carefully worded prayer had been told into the ear of the public.
As Jesus passed down the steps at no great distance he heard shouting and scuffling. Here he saw the scribe who had purchased coins from the table of Zador Ben Amon. A crowd of beggars had gathered and when the lawyer threw out the coins there was a great scramble and shoving and cursing. Those who picked up a coin shouted. Those who found none, fought. As a coin rolled toward the young Rabbi he picked it up and a look of surprise showed on his face as he examined it. Then again rose his anger and indignation, for the coin was spurious, as he soon found others to be.
Again he clenched his fist and the impulse came to strike, but he put it away and leaving the Temple turned his feet toward a narrow back street where the poverty-stricken swarmed. Here the pallid faces of the hungry, and the maimed bodies of many men told something of the suffering inflicted on these poor by the late wars. As he made his way through this district, the heart of Jesus was bowed under a great weight which was growing heavier and heavier as he acquainted himself with the mass suffering. Following a narrow street to a side gate he went beyond the city walls into a place of stony valleys and gloomy ravines that made the quarries and pools of Jerusalem. In this place, fed by waters running through a subterranean passage from a fountain, was the Pool of Siloam. Gathered here on the broad stone steps that ran to the water's edge, was the outcast poor and the crippled. For a time the Galilean looked upon the scene of helplessness and pain with eyes of infinite compassion and pity, then turning his back on the basin of Siloam's misery, he lifted his eyes to Zion on the Mount and with a long deep sigh exclaimed: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem!"
Retracing his steps, Kedron came into view and again he paused. As he looked into the valley the stream ran brown. To-morrow it would carry clots of rosy foam under which the current would be dark and ruddy. Even as he looked upon it, the lambs were bleating in the stalls. The picture of the bloody sacrifice came before him—the awe-inspiring congregation of two hundred thousand of 'God's chosen ones.' At the ninth hour three blasts of the silver trumpet would start the surging chant of five thousand Levites and signal the beginning of the slaughter. And in the next six hours two hundred thousand lambs must be slain and carried away from the gate.
"What availeth all this?" he said to himself.
When Jesus reentered the Temple, several hours had passed. The noise in the Outer Court had now grown to a deafening roar. Cattle were lowing and lambs bleating. Men shouted and cursed when an affrighted animal broke its tether. The voices of other men were heard calling their wares at shop entrances and booths, and the air was heavy with the stench of goats and cattle dung. Making his way through the crowd he found the niche between the pillars and again stepped into it to look for a few moments upon the scene of uproar and confusion. There was nothing to indicate a place of worship. Rather was it a great bazaar of shops with competition so keen at times as to give promise of the use of fists. In addition to the stalls of lambs and pigeons and the booths of oil and wine and wheat required for the sacrifices, there were stands for vase sellers, brass and copper dealers, dealers in ovens, dishes and bottles, silk merchants and jewelers and traffickers in imported goods.
The crowd was made up mostly of tradespeople and strangers with a sprinkling of Temple Guards and here and there scribes and Pharisees. The gleam of spear points of the Legion told that an extra guard had been sent in from the Tower of Antonio, and Jesus noticed that this guard was well established around the tables of the money-changers. His eye turned again to the table directly in front of him and now for the first time he saw its owner. He smiled at the memory of a startled face looking at him in the dark from over a water-jar. But Zador Ben Amon did not look his way now. He was busy passing on the value of coins and in seeing that any who complained were well pushed out of the way by soldiers, to be swallowed up by the crowd. For a time Jesus watched the game. The last victim of the unscrupulous money-changer was a Galilean peasant, whose travel-stained and shabby body covering, bent shoulders and knotted hands bespoke poverty. When the change was pressed into his hand he refused to accept it. There were words. The peasant was ordered by Zador Ben Amon to move on. This he refused to do. Guards were summoned and when the man, who had been robbed of his one coin, still clamored for his money, he was cruelly beaten and dragged away to the stocks.
The Galilean watching from the balustrade felt again the fierce anger sweeping over him and he left his place of watching with his face turned in the direction of the money-changers. As he crossed the court he stopped at a goat pen. A dozen goats were just being brought in on the shoulders of as many men. As the animals were pushed into the pen the thongs that bound their legs were cast aside. Selecting a handful of these Jesus pressed on. When he reached the table of Zador Ben Amon, this mighty Sadducee was not in sight. But business was going on and, quite near at hand, the Galilean watched the money-changing while his quick fingers plaited a scourge, and the muscles of his arm called him to action. He spoke no word and no man noticed the flush on his face nor the fire in his eye until the hiss of the thong sang over the heads of those about the table of Ben Amon and its stinging force fell across those who bent over the money bags. There was a yell, and another hissing of the thongs. Then the words rang out in a shout of mighty condemnation, "Ye have made my Father's housea den of thieves!" And the thong writhed and hissed and struck and stung and the coin-laden tables were overturned with the ease and fury of an enraged man brushing straw aside. Seeing the uproar about his table, Zador Ben Amon pushed his way through the confusion just in time to see two well filled money bags kicked open by a fellow money-changer trying to escape the scourge. With a shout and a curse he sprang forward. As he did so the hiss of the burning thongs sounded in his ears and the next instant he was blinded by the stinging pain of the scourge as blood ran across his cheeks and into his well oiled beard.
With incredible swiftness the money-changers had been driven out and the cleanser of the Temple had mounted the steps of the Beautiful Gate, and thong in hand was looking out on a scene unparalleled. Servants of money-changers were creeping about the floor; thieves were quickly at work stealing from those who had stolen, and the money-changers themselves, Zador Ben Amon with bloody face among them, were struggling desperately to get possession of their bags before their contents should be wholly appropriated by itching fingers. Running in and out among the affrighted people were animals yet more affrighted whose bleating and bellowing mingled with the outcries of men, while over the heads of them all flocks of frightened doves with swift wing sought escape to the open.
There was a call for guards, but the man pausing on the steps for a passing moment only smiled as he saw them search for one who so boldly stood before them. But if the guards knew not where to look for him, there were those who saw, and in the commotion, when the question was asked, "Who did this thing?" the answer was, "Jesus, the Prophet of Nazareth of Galilee who hath been acclaimed King of the Jews. He hath taken charge of the Temple! Let us see what cometh."
The first development from the confusion was the appearance of a number of scribes, Pharisees and Chief Priests who made their way in a body to the foot of the steps where he who had wrought the confusion stood. Fear, surprise and anger in varying degree marked the faces of these Temple officials. But their wrath was as nothing beside the righteous indignation of him who stood, thong in hand, awaiting their coming. They stopped at the foot of the steps—beyond reach of the weapon in his hand. And from this safe distance they challenged his right and his authority.
A moment he regarded them in silent scorn, then he twisted the whip into a loose roll and flung it at their feet saying, "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Ye shut up the Kingdom of Heaven against men! Woe unto you, hypocrites! Ye devour widows' houses and for a pretense make long prayers. Therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation! Woe unto ye, blind guides! Ye pay the tithe of mint and anise and cummin and omit the weightier matters of the Law,—judgment, mercy and faith. Ye blind guides which strain at a gnat and swallow a camel! Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess! Woe, woe unto you! Ye are like whited sepulchres which indeed appear beautiful outward but within are full of dead men's bones! Woe unto you, scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites! Ye build tombs for the prophets and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous while ye yourselves be children of them whichkilledthe prophets! Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers! Ye serpents! How can ye escape the damnation of hell? Ye generation of vipers!"
A murmur was heard from the crowd which threatened to grow into a mighty demonstration, when, beginning on the outer edge, it died suddenly. In its place was heard the measured tramp of feet and the clanking of arms. As if a magic wand had been extended over the people, the mass separated in the middle, forming an aisle through which came the High Priest's guard of Roman spearmen. Tongues stopped wagging. Something was going to happen. The tinkle of golden bells told that the High Priest himself approached, and every eye was turned to look upon him. Imperious in the splendor of his exalted office he made his way. His robe of blue and purple and scarlet, his gorgeous colored coat, his purple mitre and above all the sacred breast-plate sparkling with its twelve emblematic jewels as it hung in place on blue cords through gold rings, were in strong contrast to the plain and worn garment of the man who waited under the high arch of the Beautiful Gate with arms folded across his breast. An intense stillness fell over the gathering—such a hush as marked the circus arena in Rome when gladiatorial combatants came together in the death-struggle. As Annas, the All-Powerful head of God's elect priesthood, neared the end of the open path cut through the throng, the Galilean lifted his eyes from the surrounding scene and entered into some high place of communion. The flush of anger left his face. The calm of the Eternal took its place, and the High Priest with his Roman spearmen lined behind him stood without recognition for a moment. When the Galilean turned his eyes on Annas he looked down as if from some vast height.
The lips of the High Priest moved, but something in the majestic mien and unfathomable eye of the one before him stopped the words half-formed. A second and third time his tongue raised itself to shape words, but the silent one before him gave unuttered command for silence. The conflict was on. Not a conflict of gleaming blades; not a conflict of cunning, neither of Senatorial oratory, nor contention of the wise gone mad. In the arena of the occult was the conflict on between such forces as move constellations and give birth to worlds. And the one force was white and the one was black. The one was the will of God leading by way of man's reason to Liberty and Life. The other was perversion leading by way of servile obedience to Bondage and Death. The one was Reality; the other but the Passing Show. So intense was the conflict of these unseen forces that it drew the multitude into its silent circle and held it spellbound. On the face of Annas alone was the progress of the fierce and deadly conflict written in terms of such hatred as made him appear almost inhuman. Yet the destructive force of the terrible vibration he sent out touched not the poise and calm of the Galilean, but after the law of like force it followed the arc of its own circle back into the breast that wore the twelve-jeweled breast-plate.