Emmanuel; the story of the Messiah

Front matter

f i

S^ap.'-I: - ©npprijljt l^a.

C in r

Chapter I. The Iiekalu Angels.'

Hark, hark, my soul! Angelic songs are swelling O’er earth’s green fields and ocean’s wave-beat shore.

How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more !

Angels of Jesus, angels of light.

Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night.

Faber.

I T was late in the afternoon of a Syrian winter day. Already the terraces and enclosed gardens below the walls of Bethlehem were in the shadow, though the* sunlight lingered on the ploughed fields in the valley and shone brightly over the green hills of the wilderness eastward. Evening being at hand, a number of women in groups of twos and threes issued from the north gate of the town, each with a water-pot on her shoulder, and gathered around the rock-cut well of David, — the well of which that famous son of Bethlehem once longed to drink when in hiding in the wilderness.

Most of the women were of the common Jewish type, — strong of person, dark of complexion, and, if not over-intelligent, certainly rather comely than otherwise in appearance ; two of them, however, with whom walked a boy of some ten years, were of a character to attract special attention. Manifestly, from their dress and bearing, as well as from the respect shown them, they were of a higher social grade than their companions. They wore, indeed, the common tunic, — a garment which, in one form or another, long or short, with sleeves or without, was then in universal use with both sexes and among all classes, — but at the wrists only could even the hem of it be seen. Elsewhere it was concealed by an upper tunic of ampler and finer character, provided with wide, flowing sleeves, which on occasion could be wrapped around the hands to shield them from the chill air or the gaze of the too curious observer. While most of the women added to their tunics only a coarse shawl of white cotton, — either worn loosely or fastened near the middle to the shoulders, and in either case serving at once as mantle for the body and turban and veil for the head, — the wife and daughter of Salmon Ben-Eliab were distinguished by the possession of a tsaniph, or head-dress, consisting of a cloth cap with a fine linen veil wrapped around it, — a veil decorated with silken embroidery and inwoven threads of gold and silver, and terminated behind by long flowing ends, pendent over the neck and shoulders. A stranger would have noted also that their clothing was of purer white than that of their sisters, showing thiit it had passed through the hands of an experienced fuller ; and that their girdles, hanging loosely about the hips — the customary arrangement with women when not at work — and knotted so that the extremities hung down in front, were likewise gay with embroidery and precious threads, while showy rings and bracelets adorned their ears and wrists.

Nor were the women less noticeable from personal appearance and bearing. Strong and erect they were as a matter of course — no feeble woman could hope to bear her

THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH.

water-jar safely from David’s well to her house in the town. Beauty and grace also showed in their figures and motions, — little disguised as these were by their loose garments, — betokening at once both culture and a generous dower from the hand of Nature. Their oval, well-formed faces were strongly Hebrew in type ; the abundant black hair, glossy with oil, spicy with perfume, escaping freely from under the tsaniph, combined well with the dark eyes and brows — the latter deepened in hue with pigment — to set off countenances which a candid observer would have pronounced of unusual beauty, even in Bethlehem. They were kindly, intelligent faces, — the older woman’s naturally the more thoughtful and firm, her daughter’s the more animated, in expression.

The boy, trudging silently by his mother’s side, was clad very simply. A plain white sleeveless tunic, confined by a girdle, covered his person to a point a little below the knee, over which was thrown the ordinary white tallith, — an oblong garment not unlike a shawl, a fringe at each end, tied at the corners with the blue cord enjoined by the law. Sandals were strapped to his bare feet, while his head was protected by a common keffiyeh, — a large white handkerchief, slightly ornamented with strands of purple and scarlet silk, worn so that the corners fell at the sides of the face and in the rear, and bound to the head by a cord of twisted goat’s hair. The lad bore a strong resemblance to his mother, but had certainly not inherited her beauty. Nature had left too much space in his face, as it were, unfilled ; there was a suggestion of a gap between the upper and lower parts, and a certain undue squareness of contour. Yet he was not without the lineaments of a true Jew, nor were the more striking features of his mother’s face lacking. There were the same dark — scarcely black — and pensive eyes, with their look of candour and straightforwardness ; the same glossy black hair and eyebrows ; and the same thoughtful brow, and wide and firm, yet kindly, mouth.

While the women, with no little interchange of gossip, were filling their jars, the boy passed on a little way, and, seating himself on a stony bank above the roadway, gazed upon the prospect to the east and south-east. He glanced lightly over the well-known field of Bethlehem, in the valley, his father’s part thereof already sown with wheat and barley ; ignored the great, purple rampart of the mountains of Moab lying all along the eastern horizon, and wrapped in mysterious haze ; and fixed his eyes with steady interest on the hill-slopes of the wilderness of Judaea, just across the valley eastward, then green with abundant pasturage and bright with the golden light of the sinking sun. Nor was he looking at that object in the wilderness which would have arrested a stranger’s gaze immediately. He scarcely noticed the great towers and marble walls of Herodium, the king’s palace-fortress, which, with its two hundred steps of polished stones leading up from the valley, shone and glittered from the top of a prominent hill a few miles away, like the very gate of Paradise. Often as he had, on former occasions, gazed and wondered at the army of strange workmen employed in building that palace, and at the massive stones and beautiful buildings which he dared not inspect near by, on this evening the royal abode, so soon to become the royal tomb, interested him not at all. His look was fixed on the slopes to the right of the Herodium. There lay his father’s flocks ; and there, if those clouds in the south-west did not bring up the rain again, he was to spend the night with the shepherds, watching at the door of the sheepfold.

How he had been looking forward to this night ! What could have kept his father and brother that they had not returned from the fold? Perhaps already they were at home, and waiting for him. Were not those water- jars filled yet? As he was about to turn to see, his eye fell on the form of a neighbour, a man by the name of Elihu, coming up from his work in the field.

“Hail, Thoma, lad!” said the man. “Eying the old king’s palace again, art thou? Were the chance thine, wouldest thou live in such a gilded house ? ”

“ No, indeed, I would not,” said the boy vigorously.

“And wherefore not? Is it not finer than thy father’s, with all his lands and his flocks ? ” rejoined the man, turning to look at the splendid structure crowning the eastern hill-top.

“ Yea, Elihu,” answered Thoma, in a half-puzzled tone, his eyes following those of the man; “but it is not my father’s house ; it belongs to the wicked king, Herod.”

“ Verily, boy, thou sayest he is a wicked king, and may the Grod of our fathers ” —

The ready malediction was unuttered, for the sound of a step on the roadway diverted the attention of both man and boy. A well-known Bethlehemite was walking wearily, staff in hand, up the ascent to the town. He was an old man, small in stature, and somewhat bent with years ; but though the frosts of many winters had sprinkled his long hair and beard with gray, age had not yet seriously sapped the strength of Jesse Ben-Jonadab. It brought out, indeed, his large nose and other strongly marked features with increased prominence ; but it seemed only to add a new keenness to the small black eyes glowing under his bushy brows.

“Hail, Jesse!” said Elihu respectfully. “The Lord be with thee.”

“ The Lord bless thee, my son,” came the reply, with grave deliberateness.

“ What heardest thou, Ben-Jonadab, at the Holy City?”

The women at the well stopped their work to listen.

‘ ‘ Blessed be the name of the Lord ! ” exclaimed the old man, his face brightening and his eyes flashing. “ There is news in Jerusalem, of a truth. The fox hath been tracked to his hole and caught at last. The Lord liveth ! ” “The fox!” cried Elihu. “ Nol the Idumaean who calleth himself King of Israel ! Not Herod ! Hath that sister of his, Salome, poisoned him at last?”

“ Nay, ray son ; would to God it were so ! But the Lord liveth. That beast of prey — he is no fox, my son — shall yet be visited with the vengeance of the Most High for the righteous blood he hath spilled. Nay, it is his son, that viper’s offspring, Antipater.”

“ Now God be praised ! And how came he into the old king’s clutches ? Is he not in Rome, and well warned that his wickedness is discovered ? ”

The women left their water-pots and came forward, eager to hear the old man’s narrative.

“ ’Tis now two days,” Jesse went on, “ since Antipater — perish the day whereon he saw the light ! — landed at Caesarea. It is told all over Jerusalem how no man met him at the quay ; nor did any do him honour as he passed through the streets. There seemed a solitude in the city where friends were wont to be thick as grasshoppers. At the Holy City it was the same ; the porter at the gate of the new palace let him in, indeed, but shut his friends out ; and men say, that when he came into the king’s presence, and approached to salute, Herod drove him away, upbraiding him as the murderer of his brethren and a plotter of destruction against himself. Yesterday was this foul destroyer of the sons of Mariamne and of the hope of Israel tried by Herod and Varus, the Roman, — he is, as thou knowest. Governor of Syria, — and condemned ; for which the Lord be praised ! The poison which he had sent for his father slew a criminal before their very eyes. And, behold, the king hath sent messengers to Caesar ; no man

THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH.

T knoweth why, but all Jerusalem believeth it is for leave to put his serpent’s offspring to death.”

The breathless interest with which the old man’s auditors followed this story caused at its conclusion a momentary silence, quickly broken, however, by Elihu.

“ Verily, the Lord liveth ! ” he exclaimed ; “ blessed be the name of the Lord ! And heardest thou other news, Ben-Jonadab? ”

“Yea; it is rumoured that Herod hath grown old fast since his son’s \dllany became known to him. Some say the physicians believe he will not live over a few months, — which may the God of Israel grant to His suffering people ! ”

With the last words, Jesse gathered his tallith about him, seized his staff, and started on toward the gate. But he had not gone a dozen steps before the sound of an animal’s tread on the rocky path caused him to halt and look around down the roadway, the remainder of the group doing the same. It was no strange sight which met their eyes ; only a sturdy, roughly clad young artisan leading an ass, on which sat a young woman, doubtless his wife, also plainly, though neatly, attired. As it was already cold in the shadow of the western hills, she had wrapped her mitpachath, or shawl, closely about her, its upper folds being drawn over the top of her head, and fastened to it, like the kefflyeh of the boy, by a cord of twisted goat’s hair.

“ Two more children of Abraham, I warrant me,” muttered Jesse, when the stranger pair had passed and were beyond earshot, “ come to enroll themselves at the command of their Eoman master and his satrap, Herod.” Then, turning his keen eyes on Elihu, —

“ How is the khan to-night?”

“Full, I doubt not, Ben-Jonadab. Several have come to enroll themselves, and a party of grain-buyers are stopping in the town.”

“ Got they any wheat in Bethlehem? ”

“ Verily, I believe not. I told them they would have to go down as far as Gaza to buy wheat this year.”

The old man faced about once more, and trudged on through the gate, Elihu keeping him company. The women went back to their water-jars, and, as fast as these were filled, raised them to their shoulders and filed back into the town. Elisabeth and her children walked in silence at first, the mother and daughter thinking of the stranger woman who had passed them, the boy, of the story old Jesse had told of King Herod and his son.

Presently the latter broke out, “My mother, why did Jesse call the king’s son a fox? What hath he done?”

“ My son, he falsely accused his two brothers, Alexander and Aristobulus, to his father. They were sons of our noble princess, Mariamne, and the only rightful heirs to the throne of David. This base brother persuaded the wicked old king to kill them. Israel hoped that under one of them her ancient glory would be revived ; but now we can only wait for the coming of the Messiah. When he cometh, Judah, he will avenge his people on her oppressors ; he will restore the kingdom to Israel, and make her to rule over the Gentiles.”

The city gate and the group of elders sitting by it had been left some distance behind when Thoma spoke again.

“ My mother,” he said then, “ did not the poor woman look tired as she rode by us ? I think *she had a beautiful face.”

Elisabeth assented somewhat absently.

On finding that his father and brother had not yet returned to the house, the fair young woman and her husband recurred to the boy’s mind, and partly from restlessness, partly from curiosity, he wandered on to the khan to see how the late comers had fared within its crowded limits. At the gateway of the low, square structure there was a

THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH.

throng of men, and, looking through the entrance, one ^ could see that the small, open court within was also filled with men, animals, and the burdens of the latter, while the covered portion around the court was all taken up with guests or merchandise. In the narrow street in front of the gateway, and looking through it into the crowded interior in dismay, was the man of whom Thoma was thinking. The young peasant stood mechanically holding the ass by the head to prevent it taking fright at the din round about it ; but clearly he was without purpose, and at a loss what to do.

The woman’s face, however, showed no signs of anxiety, though it told plainly enough of great fatigue.

She was looking down the narrow street at the bit of lullcountry visible through its extremity, where the sunlight was still lingering on the higher summits, and gilding the walls of the Herodium. Manifestly, her thoughts were far away from the noise and confusion about her. Thoma’s curiosity grew into deeper interest ; that tender and chivalrous devotion to woman of which a pure-hearted boy is capable awoke in him as he watched the fair, sweet face, its outlines so delicately curved, its decidedly Jewish features softened into unusual purity and gentleness. The dark eyes, he thought, were not so thoughtful as his mother’s, but were even more serene ; while the wearied, almost pathetic, expression of the face, transfused with what certainly seemed gladness, quiet but deep, gave it a singular charm. The boy never lost the impression made upon him by that transfigured face. He wondered what she saw off there on the hills, and instinctively turned to look.

His reverie was abruptly cut short. Certain of the grain-buyers, after a fruitless search for wheat, came back to the khan disappointed, and, making their way through the crowd with little ceremony, brushed Thoma roughly

■V to one side. His eye followed them angrily for a moment, but at the same time lighted upon the anxious face of the stranger peasant.

Approaching the man, he inquired with some diffidence, ‘‘Sir, hast thou no place to stop for the night? ”

The stranger started, and looked down on him in surprise.

“Nay, verily, my son,’’ he said slowly, “I know not where I may abide.”

“Then come with me, and thou shalt lodge in our stable. We have no cattle in it now, and last week several men abode there while they were being enrolled.”

The man’s rather stolid but honest countenance brightened at this invitation ; nevertheless he hesitated. Suddenly the boy darted down the street. A man and boy were approaching, whom he greeted joyfully, laying hold of the folds of the former’s ample cloak.

“My father,” he exclaimed, “behold two strangers, come to be enrolled, who cannot find room in the khan ; may I not take them to the old stable ? ”

Salmon, father of Thoma, was in great haste that evening ; he had been detained in leaving the flock, much to his annoyance ; moreover, the enrolment was an exceedingly obnoxious topic with all true Israelites. Had he followed his son and met the stranger couple, or had he known that one of them was a woman, he would undoubtedly have offered them the best accommodations that his house afforded. As it was, he answered shortly, hurrying on, “Yea, son, thou mayest; but see that thou be in haste, for 1 return quickly.”

Salmon Be.n-Eliab was of a different type from the boy Thoma. The older son, Asahel, his more frequent companion, resembled him most. The father’s rather narrow and handsome face, with its clearly cut features, keen, restless eyes, and animated expression, together with his active

THE STOEY OF THE MESSIAH.

disposition, had descended as a heritage to Asahel, not to Thoma.

The two boys turned aside to the stranger couple ; and as Asahel now seconded his brother’s invitation, and gave assurance of their father's consent, the man gladly led the ass, with its fair burden, from the door of the khan, and followed his young guides. They led him through a dark and very narrow lane to the edge of the hill on which the town was built, and then down a tortuous path to a grotto of some size, extending into the rocky heart of the hill. The place had formerly been used as a stable ; but the difficulty of access had prompted Salmon, not, indeed, like so many of the people, to find place for his cattle in the same room with his family, but to build a more convenient shelter elsewhere. Clean straw had been spread over the fioor for the occupants of the week before, and comfort of a rude sort was certainly possible in the strange apartment ; yet, beyond question, very few accustomed to the comfort of modern life would have cared to pass the night in it ; nor, in fact, would any of the wealthier class of Judaea, at that day, have looked save with contempt upon such a lodging. But to Joseph of Nazareth and his wife, accustomed to a life of privation, the place was attractive enough, and very grateful after their long journey.

“Thoma, my son,” said Salmon, as the boys entered their own dwelling, immediately above the cave, “ art thou ready to go with me over to the hills ? ”

“ Verily, I am, father,” Thoma replied with alacrity.

“ And the flour and the figs, are they ready?”

“Yea, my father.”

“Then must we depart, forthwith; the sun is already down, and soon it will be dark. Had not that sheep strayed down the valley, I would have been here an hour ago ; but 1 dared not wait till to-morrow to search for it.

A lest the wild beasts leave me not so much as a bone for a token.”

He was detained, however, for a few minutes, during which Asahel recounted to his brother the delights of his two days’ sojourn with his father and the shepherds on the hills and in the wilderness. To see the two boys together was to perceive more clearly their difference, notwithstanding they were twins. Asahel, the elder, was the pride of the house. Though Thoma had outgrown him somewhat, yet Asahel, by his handsome face, ready speech, and quick movements, always attracted attention rather than his slower and plainer brother.

After the birth of the daughter, Sarah, for a long time their mother had not been blessed with children. Year after year went by, and the Lord did not give her the son for whom she prayed. Ten years passed by, and she had almost given up hope, when, at last, her sorrow was turned into joy, and a son was born. In her gratitude she named him Asahel, for, she said, “ it is the work of God.” For the brother who came with him, she had no name ready, and it was doubtful if any would be needed, for it seemed certain the puny little creature would die. At first she called him simply Thoma, the twin ; and though at his circumcision he received the name of Judah, yet the surname, Thoma, clung to him persistently. Even in his home he was called Thoma quite as often as Judah ; outside of it the former name was universal. His brother, however, called him only Judah.

Soon the father and son, — the former burdened with provisions for the shepherds, the boy wearing the large outer cloak which Asahel had surrendered to him, — after exchanging with Elisabeth the parting salutation, “ Peace be unto thee,” went with rapid steps down the dusky street and out into the open country. They were not long descending the hill and crossing the brook in the valley, for the

THE STORY OF THE MESSIAH.

faint glow in the west still shed a little light over the scene, so that they were able to thread their way through the fig and olive groves, and to clamber safely down the vine-covered terraces. With all the speed the boy’s limited strength would permit, however, night closed in upon them before they arrived at the sheepfold ; but as Salmon knew the region well, they reached the shepherd circle around the fire in front of the fold in safety.

This last was a square, walled enclosure, with a rude shelter within in one corner, where the sheep could huddle in stormy weather. The wall, though not very high, was armed on top with sharp stones, set on end to make it difficult for thief or animal to climb over. Nevertheless, the shepherd never felt sure of the safety of his flock at night till a trusty guard was posted at the door.

As Thoma and his father drew near, the shepherds, hearing the sound of footsteps, grasped their staves and slings, started to their feet, and peered anxiously into the darkness in the direction of the sound. It was a striking scene thus presented, brought out, as it was, into bold relief by the light from the fire, while all the surroundings — fold, hill-side, and valley — were shrouded in darkness, or but dimly visible. The huge cloaks of fleecy sheepskin, hanging loosely from the shoulders, and thrown back that the arms might be free, and the short tunics beneath, concealed but little of the muscular forms and sinewy limbs of the watchful shepherds ; and as they bent forward towards the suspicious sounds, each strong right arm holding its sling ready for instant use, the group might have served as an ideal representation of alertness. The voice of Salmon worked an instant change.

“ Hail, Jonathan ! It is I ; fear not,” he cried ; and the men dropped their weapons.

“ The Lord be with you,” he continued, coming up.

“ The Lord bless thee,” was the respectful response.

JEMMANUEL ;

Master and servants alike made a simple meal from the dry bread and figs which Salmon had brought from the town. Then, while the men sat gazing silently and somewhat solemnly into the fire, Jonathan, a man of gigantic stature and swarthy face, — a face easily becoming fierce and passionate, but not without kindliness when in repose, — turned to Thoma.

“ So, my lad, thou art come out to learn the shepherd’s trade, like our father, David. Wouldest thou like to lead a fiock over these hills day after day, as he did? ”

“ Yea,” said the boy, “ thou sayest I would.”

“ Thy brother promised to take the best of care of the sheep ; wilt thou do the same ? ”

“ Indeed I will, Jonathan. I will lead them to the best pasture and the liviug waters. I will carry the lambs in my arms when they are tired.”

“ What wilt thou do at night? ”

“ I will count them all at the door of the fold, and be sure that all are there ; and then I will keep watch outside until the morning.”

“ And if a lion or a bear come near thee, as they came to David ? ”

Thoma glanced out into the gloom beyond the firelight, caught sight of the dim outline of the hill sloping up above him, and the deep darkness of the valleys on either side, thought of the terrible creatures that might be abroad in the night, and instinctively drew closer to his father, and looked up into his face for reassurance. The shepherds broke into a laugh.

“Ah, Thoma!” said Jonathan with a smile, “I fear thou wilt never equal the son of Jesse in the matter of killing bears and lions. But what will become of thy fiock if thou fiee from the lion at his approach?”

The poor boy had been much abashed by the laughter of the men ; but this question seemed to arouse a new impulse

THF. STORY OF THE MESSIAH.

within him. Suddenly he sprang to his feet, his eyes flashing in a way very unusual with him.

“ If a lion touched one of my sheep,” he exclaimed with clenched fists, “ I would kill him ! ”

Both shepherds and master, being simple-hearted folk, eyed the boyish figure admiringly.

“ Ah,” said Jonathan, “ wouldest thou, Judah Thoma? Then, I doubt not, thou wilt make a good shepherd, perhaps as good as the shepherd-king himself.”

Soon the men stretched themselves on the ground for the night, with the exception of the one detailed for the first watch, who sat gazing solemnly into the fire, and throwing over them their fleecy sheepskin mantles, were shortly* fast asleep. Not so Thoma. He lay by his father’s side, sharing his ample cloak, and looked up into the sky, where the innumerable stars shone with the lustre peculiar to the dry atmosphere ; but the strangeness of his surroundings drove sleep from his eyes. The vast arch overhead ; the wide, still spaces of hill and valley, still except when occasionally the hoot of an owl or the distant cry of some vagrant company of jackals broke the silence of the night and startled for the moment the watchman dozing by the fire ; tlie chill wind blowing down from the north, and sweeping every fe-^ minutes across his upturned face, — all combined to keep him wakeful long after his companions were lost ill slumber.

An hour and more went by ; the crescent moon in the western sky sank below the horizon ; the first watch was over, at length, and the shepherd sitting by the fire gave place to one of his comrades ; and still sleep did not come to the wide-eyed boy. By this time he had ceased waiting for it, and had given himself up to the influences of the place and time. His thoughts reverted to the words of Jonathan, “ Perhaps as good as the shepherd-king himself.” Was it possible? Could he, a mere boy, defend his sheep against a lion ? Ah ! but he would be a man some day. Then, if a lion attacked his sheep — yea, he would kill him. He could not let the cruel beast tear and devour his lambs. But if the lion should prove too strong for him ! How did he know that even when he grew up he would be able to slay a lion? And yet, David was not yet a man when he killed the lion and the bear. How did he do it? “The Lord delivered him” — yea, those were David’s own words — “out of the paw of the lion and out of the paw of the bear.” The Lord, the God of Israel ! But the Lord still lived ; surely, God was not dead. He would still deliver His servant that trusted in Him*. Was He not up on high, somewhere above those countless stars ? How brightly they shone to-night ! especially that great one directly overhead. How beautiful it was ! It actually seemed to grow more brilliant each moment he looked at it. Why, surely, it was growing larger and brighter ; it was coming nearer ! Was he in a vision? Had he fallen asleep, after all, out on the hillside, and was a ladder from heaven about to be lowered to him, as to his father, Jacob, so long ago? Nearer, nearer yet ! how glorious ! But it was not a ladder ; it was a man. What a mighty, what a beautiful, form ! and his face, how it shone ! And his clothing ! Ah, it was an angel !