Lazarus, a tale of the world's great miracle

Front matter

LAZARUS

a Tale of the

World's Great Miracle

Chapter 1

LAZARUS.

CHAPTER I.

THE faint red lights of Jerusalem were twinkling in the distance. The sun had vanished, leaving that strange ruddy glow behind it that, in the East, usurps the place of twilight. On the rose-pink flushings of the sky, tiny, pale yellow stars appeared at every moment, like primroses springing up on a clover field, and, with their appearance, the sky grew a greener blue, to form a fitter setting. The palm trees looked almost black against these jewel tints, and the blue olive trees grew grey, as if about to die, and everywhere was silence, except for distant croaking of frogs, or barking of wild dogs.

Alone, along the road of Jericho that led to Bethany, walked Lazarus, the youngest ruler of the Synagogue, the son of Simon the Leper.

Poetic and dreamy always, to-night he walked more wrapped in thought than usual, for his heart was full of a great unrest. One of the closest observers of the Mosaic Law, as Lazarus was, something to-day had stirred his thoughts with a clashing dissonance he could not account for. A poor Jew had been brought before Caiaphas for failing to pay a money changer. The man's story had been a piteous one of sickness and bad crops, and a terrible overcharge on the part of the usurer; yet Caiaphas had but shrugged his shoulders at the tale.

"Thou hast thy remedy," he had said to the creditor. "He has houses and fields, he owes thee money; take them. Why come to me?"

Something, he knew not what, in the High Priest's tone, had fallen on his ear like a wrong note in a tune. Was this justice? For justice is ever man's measure-tape of right. To Lazarus the words of Moses came back: "If thou lend money to any of My people that is poor by thee, thou shalt not be to him as an usurer, neither shalt thou lay upon him usury."

Something in the man's despairing voice and look had seemed to open out new thoughts of grief to Lazarus. What was bitterness, where was healing for its sting? What was life? Why was life? What was he, Lazarus, doing, walking along that road? Who was he?

Suddenly earth appeared to him as but a hillock, and men mere creeping insects hurrying up and down it. Yet the ancients said that man's soul was immortal. God had appeared to Abraham and Moses. Would He appear again?

Surely David and all the prophets had sung of a Messiah. Surely there must be an ending somewhere to grief and trouble, such as that of the poor man he had seen that morning. Surely there was somewhere a justice not based on human moods, or swayed by human caprice.

Yes, like a flash of lightning on a darksome night, or the sudden blaze from a log that falls from its place, there sprang up for him a strange new meaning in life. So much did the reflection move him, that he paused by the low wall, and looked back towards Jerusalem, a dark mass, now lying like a gaunt shadow with weird shape across the valley, a faint radiance showing only where the roof of the Temple lay. Absolute Justice! Absolute Truth! Right, real Right, independent of creature. Could they be found?

Yes, it was possible; he felt it, and as he turned his face upwards toward the sky, and as the cool night air fanned with soothing gentleness his lips, a voice seemed to whisper to his soul: "Seek! Seek!"

Presently, at the turning of the road, from the gloom emerged another figure, and a voice cried out:

"Hail, friend Lazarus. I come to sup with thee."

The voice was young and fresh, and vigorous as Lazarus's own, but with a serious vibration in it that spoke of constant introspection.

"No friend I would more gladly see this night," said Lazarus, with truth in every accent; for Nicodemus had been from childhood ever his greatest and most valued friend, and, like himself, was a young and promising ruler of the Synagogue.

"Whence comest thou, Nicodemus ? Thou wast not at the Sanhedrim at all to-day."

"Nay, but if I tell thee, thou wilt laugh," said Nicodemus.

"Methinks 't would do me good to laugh, for my thoughts were sad while thou didst come this way.

Then, lowering his voice and coming close to Lazarus, Nicodemus whispered: "I went to hear speak this strange Man, after whom the people have gone mad, and I can assure thee, noble Lazarus, that His preaching is no mean thing. Verily never heard I man speak like this Man."

"I, too, have heard rumours of His preaching. 'T is some poor fellow that hath followed in the doctrines of John the Baptist," answered Lazarus. "What preacheth He?"

"Baptism and Repentance of Sins," answered Nicodemus; "and yet more, He speaketh of Forgiveness."

"Who shall forgive sins but God only?" questioned Lazarus.

"Methinks verily 't is some prophet from God," said Nicodemus, "and it surpriseth me that neither Annas nor any other of the priests doth take notice of this matter, for seemingly, 't is one of vast importance. About the manner of this Man's birth there are marvellous accounts, and even as a child He did say and do most wondrous things; and His face, I cannot tell thee, Lazarus, how beautiful it is. It hath an expression of mingled purity and power, and it troubleth one strangely to look upon it."

"I will one day come with thee to hear Him," answered Lazarus. "Even but now did my thoughts dwell sadly on the present state of government. It seemeth to me that the old laws of Moses are perverted sadly, and that the world groweth strangely bad, as at the time of Noah."

"Yea, worse; for where were now the righteous man to place within the Ark?" asked Nicodemus.

"Yet we have kept the laws of Moses from our childhood upwards," said Lazarus, unable still to break away from the teachings of his youth.

Nicodemus was silent for a few moments. Then he began again, with the air of a man who wishes, while persuading others, to persuade himself: "Yet, Lazarus, it seemeth to me that within the heart there is yet a deeper philosophy of right than the law of Moses teacheth. There is ever an inward burning longing for rest and peace and happiness, as if somewhere the soul could rest eternally."

"So will it be in the resurrection," answered Lazarus.

"Yet that is far off," said Nicodemus. "Methinks that, even in this life, there might be an inward peace with hope, such as this Nazarene doth speak of." Then he stood still, and, gazing down the valley, waved his hand toward the dark outline of Jerusalem. "Mindest thou the words of the prophet, Lazarus? 'Woe to Ariel, to Ariel, the city where David dwelt! The Lord hath poured out upon you the spirit of sleep, and hath closed your eyes: the prophets and your rulers, the seers, hath He covered. And the vision of all is become unto you as the words of a book that is sealed, which men deliver to one that is learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee: and he saith, I cannot; for it is sealed: and the book is delivered to him that is not learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee: and he saith, I am not learned! 'What thinkest thou, Lazarus? Is not Jerusalem even so? Are we not all in heaviness and asleep? Rulers and poor alike? Yet I feel that in us everything is possible. Think of the great strength of a man the great understanding, the great wisdom of men such as Solomon and David. How the heart doth leap with joy, and then doth faint with grief! To what end is all this? For death alone? Nay, I cannot think so, Lazarus.

"The Romans say a man's life is given him but to teach him how to die," said Lazarus. 'Think, too, Nicodemus, how powerless a thing is man when death approacheth; he is no more than the grass of the field, green to-day, faded to-morrow. What, then, of all his heart-beatings?"

"Aye, truly death, death of this fleshly body; but there is another life within. I know it, I feel it, Lazarus."

Nicodemus seemed carried away by his own argument, as though he had himself been preaching and were fired by his own reasoning. 'Mindest thou not the words of Job? 'The Spirit of God hath made me and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life.' Surely the breath of God can never die, but will return to Him laden with the praise and worship of them that love Him."

More moved than he would have it to appear, for he was not a demonstrative man, Lazarus walked on in silence till they reached the gates of his house at Bethany. Here they were met by the ever anxious Martha, who feared some accident to her beloved brother.

'What fearest thou ever?" said Lazarus, smiling at her anxiety.

'I know not; but the night is dark, and ever since Barabbas did waylay the Pharisee, I fear me for thee on the lonely road, lest maybe some robber, such as he, should fall upon thee and take thy jewels."

"Surely 't were better far to be the sister of some poor man," said Nicodemus, smiling, "than to be so troubled."

Then, when they entered the house, Mary advanced to meet them.

"We heard a wondrous story to-day from Cana," she said to the two men. "We cannot credit it, but our kinsman, Nathaniel of Arimathæa, the cousin of Joseph the Counsellor, doth write how that they were all at the wedding of a friend, and Mary was there with her amazing son, this strange Man of whom all speak; and, when they entered, Mary did say to the servants, 'Whatever He saith unto ye, do it.' And there were set there six waterpots of stone, containing water; and this Jesus said unto them, 'Fill the waterpots with water'; and they rilled them to the brim; then He said unto them again, 'Draw out now and bear unto the governor of the feast.' And when they did so, behold it was all wine, and of such choice flavour as Nathaniel saith he never before did taste, for he too was there; and all were full of wonder at this thing, which they do term a miracle. What think ye, noble rulers, can this thing be true?"

But the two men, full of new, strange thoughts, half formed and wholly inexpressible, looked at each other in surprise, and Nicodemus answered: "If 't is true, 't is surely a God who hath come among us."

And, all that evening, they talked much of the Nazarene, and of the strange acts of Annas, and of the new High Priest Caiaphas.

Chapter II.

CHAPTER II.

THE Jewish Passover was at hand, and the Nazarene was in Jerusalem.

A few evenings after His arrival, Nicodemus, full of excitement, sought out Lazarus once more.

"Hast thou heard the strange news, Lazarus?"

"Nay, I was weary and went not into Jerusalem this morn," replied his friend.

"Surely the thing was strange indeed that happened. This Nazarene, who, since His arrival, doth seem to drive mad all Jerusalem, did make a scourge of cords, and chased from the Temple all those that sold oxen and sheep and doves, and poured out the changers' money and overthrew the tables; and His face, they say, did glow with wrath that kindled as if with fire; yet none withstood Him, and none durst speak. Thou wouldst have laughed, Lazarus, to see the frightened little usurers, sprawling on the floor to grasp the coins that fell hither and thither, and how they quarrelled when one took the other's money, or several darted at the same coin. Oh, their oaths were awful to hear; yet, for all, they durst not stay, so mightily He scourged them. 'Take these hence, take these things hence,' He cried. 'Make not My Father's house an house of merchandise.' Then He said again: 'It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves.' And mindest thou, Lazarus, how the prophets Jeremiah and Isaiah do so say?"

Like one awaking from a dream, Lazarus gazed at Nicodemus. "Surely I mind it, Nicodemus; 'tis truly a wonderful thing. And what said the people?"

"The children cried out: 'Hosanna to the Son of David'; and some even say the elders raised their voices saying: 'Verily He is the Son of God!' But the chief priests and scribes who were in the Temple were very wroth, and they came round this Jesus and protested: 'Hearest Thou what these say? They call Thee Christ and Lord and the Son of God, and Thou contradictest them not? Verily Thou blasphemest by Thy silence.' But He looked with wondrous mien upon them and answered only: 'Have ye never read, "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected praise"?' Which, if thou callest to memory, is so written in the Psalms; for the marvel of this Man is that He speaketh never a word but that which is written already in the Scriptures. And while they would have answered Him, yet could not, and sought for words to say, there came round Him such crowds of lame and blind and sick, that surely there was no room any longer for priest or scribe; and when he healed one after the other, and they left the Temple whole and with sight restored, the dumb singing aloud in praise to God, the priests did fly forth from the Temple with fear and fury, and hasted to tell Caiaphas the marvels they had seen and heard. And they say that Caiaphas is so wroth that he can neither eat nor drink; nor can he write, but sendeth message after message to Pilate to give order that they lay hands on Jesus; but Pilate, it seemeth, doth but laugh and say: 'Let this madman alone. He doeth no harm, but rather good, seeing that ye high priests can neither give eyes to the blind nor make the lame to walk.'"

Softly as they spoke, Mary came across the springy grass, and stood close listening; then, when Nicodemus had finished speaking, she exclaimed with fervour: "'T is indeed the Messiah who hath come. Nathaniel wrote truly of the miracle in Cana. It is the Lord."

"How knowest thou, sister?" answered Lazarus, amazed at the earnestness of her words, which yet seemed an echo of his own thoughts.

"An inward voice doth speak to me day and night, day and night, saying: 'This is the Lord, hear Him, hear Him'; and when I look upon His face in the Temple, and then around on this vast crowd, methinks that only He who made the flowers and birds and sunshine could have made a man so fair, for His look is like a sunbeam lying over a peaceful lake; and the thought within me doth grow and grow and grow; and, with the Magdalene, I have read and re-read the Scriptures, and every word doth testify how this Christ would come; and it grieveth me now that ever we spoke slightingly of His mother, or could dream it possible that she had sinned, for the prophet Isaiah saith: 'Therefore the Lord Himself shall give you a sign, Behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son.' Had I but minded me of these words, I had first cut out my tongue ere I had breathed a word against her purity."

"Surely thou speakest strangely," answered Lazarus, "and we must beware of blasphemy. I, too, would see this Man, yet I fear me greatly; for, if He have such power, maybe I, too, would think Him the Son of God and fall in worship at His feet; and then if 't were not after all the Messiah that shall come?"

"If thou wouldst but see Him," urged Mary, "thou couldst ask Him, and thou wouldst not doubt."

Then Martha's voice was heard calling them to the evening meal, which, in the ardour of their conversation, they had forgotten. Darkness was falling quickly; only over Jerusalem still hung a lurid glow, that made the houses stand out vividly against the background of the darkening trees, and lighted up with steely gleamings the rivulet of Kedron, that lay like some great serpent waiting to seize upon the heart of Jerusalem. Then, suddenly, a distant sound of voices rose.

"Hosanna, Hosanna!" cried children's voices on the stilly air, and they seemed to pierce the darkness and fall like notes of holy music into the hearts of the little group.

"Martha," said Nicodemus, leaning over the low wall of the terrace, "hearest thou how they salute the Nazarene?"

Then Lazarus, too, stood up and listened, and, as the cry came nearer, something strange and hard seemed giving way within his heart. He saw, as in a vision, earth and sea and sky all rolled away, and crowds falling to the ground in worship and fear and adoration; and a great, white light that paled the glory of the sun; and notes, in power and harmony undreamt of, gave forth, in unearthly cadence of swelling triumph, the news that the Messiah had come indeed, that the kingdom of God was close at hand.

In that one moment, while the voices drew ever nearer, grew ever louder, and, in the darkness, a still darker line of approaching crowds of men was streaked, Lazarus seemed able to measure his own stature, and to grasp its nothingness against the boundless stretches of creation. One man among so many, one tiny atom at the feet of mountains!

And, as the vision faded, the centre piece of its glory approached along the road. Only a strange luminous whiteness, not to be accounted for by dying sun or rising moon, showed that this Man was not as other men.

"'T is the Lord, let us go forth to meet Him," murmured Mary, with nervous awe and adoration in her tone; and, regardless of Martha's voice, rising querulous now from the house door, regardless of the opinion of the Jewish world, regardless of all inward doubt; as if compelled by some magnetic, supernatural power, the three sallied forth from the gate and, meeting the Christ when He reached the summit of the hill, fell down in worship at His feet. While Lazarus, hardly knowing what he did or said, mindful only that he stood in a majestic presence, from which to win one look he would barter life and power and all his worldly possessions, exclaimed with mingled Jewish courtesy and human awe:

"Enter in, O Lord, enter in; all I have I offer Thee, for all is Thine."

And the great look fell, with love and gratitude and endless blessing, on the head of Lazarus.

Chapter III.

CHAPTER III.

IT had been a bold stroke on his part this bringing the Nazarene straight into the house; for Martha's was a ruling, decided spirit, and she had set her face against offering hospitality to this Man, interested though she was in all that she had heard of Him. There was danger in being in His company. Already the Jews had sought to stone Him, and His presence in their house might mean their own death, or at least suspicion of complicity in His condemnation of the ruling powers, and thus cast a slur upon their house forever. Yet, when the Man of Sorrows stood by the gate, when those eyes, overflowing with grief at the sins of nations, fell upon her, she felt herself reduced to nothingness; even the inmost thought of cowardice and treachery seemed revealed, and the consciousness was born in her that she was, if not in the presence of God Himself, in that, indeed, of one of His most powerful prophets.

Pale and doubting and hesitating at His reception, Jesus stood at the gate, wondering how He would be received; as He has stood at the gate of each human heart, pleading piteously for hospitality, for entrance into the affections, for rest in the souls of men; yet pleading, so often, alas! in vain. There was something so pathetic in His glory and in His silent waiting for admission, that Martha felt over . Supposing, after all, that this were indeed the God; how terrible every moment that was not pressed into His service; how unforgivable the sin of hesitation; yet how impossible to receive Him as befitted Him! Bewildered and flustered, she made obeisance to Him, then led the way to the inner hall. It was of tesselated marble, roofed overhead, its walls pierced all round with apertures, that let in light and air. A side door, supported by columns of porphyry, and opening on stairs of Shittim wood, gave access to the garden; for Lazarus was wealthy, and Simon his father, when he had fallen ill with leprosy, had given up to his children almost all that he possessed. The lovely house in Bethany and all his gold and silver and jewels were theirs, and they gloried in them.

As those holy feet stepped noiselessly across the chamber, Martha now was convinced that it was no ordinary man who had entered their dwelling. All the beautiful things she and Lazarus had amassed or inherited seemed shadowy and unreal in the presence of the lowly carpenter. Yet, for all that, she could not sever her mind from the conventional hospitalities of life. She hurried away, while Mary came and cast herself at Jesus' feet, and, far away in inner halls and passages, she could be heard summoning her maidens to bring forth their best, to set before the Lord. But Lazarus and Mary remained by His side, realising how precious was every moment in which their Christ was with them; conscious that He, who could command that the stones be made bread, required no serving, no preparations; only the worship and living passion of adoring hearts.

Presently, Martha, wearied with the task of gathering her maidens together and of hastily preparing what seemed fitting for such a guest, returned; and, finding Mary sitting in silent worship at His feet, cried almost querulously: "Lord, dost Thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me."

Oh, how the sensitive Mary winced at her sister's words; to speak thus to Jesus, the Christ! How all Martha's want of spirituality, of enthusiasm, of religious fire, echoed in those words! The world, the world and its silly self-imposed routine, its futile, paltry laws built up by the narrow brains of men to appease their limited demands; the self-seeking satisfactions required by man, who deems himself the ruler of this world, whose little span of life seems to himself a nation's. To those who believed, as Lazarus and Mary now did, what mattered wine or garment or surroundings? One thing only was needful, the Bread of Life such as fell from the lips of Jesus; and to Jesus, what must Martha's words have seemed? To Him, to whom worlds and time and space and life and death were as nothing to the "I am" of Eternity!

How must her words have sounded to such an One? Yet the Christ, in His deep sympathy, pitied the fretfulness her cry disclosed. This woman's eyes were not yet opened. How then could she fathom the depth and length and breadth the majesty of the personality that stood before her? But He saw in all its fulness what we fail to see, the weary anxiety of the woman, the doubting of His justice, if He could see one woman toil thus while another idled. With gentleness and love He answered: "Thou art careful and troubled about many things: but one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her."

And Mary, in adoring wonder, kissed His feet once more and murmured: "One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in His Temple. Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of Truth."

Chapter IV.

CHAPTER IV.

THE light came in in streaks through the curtained windows of the highest, most gorgeous apartment in the house of Caiaphas, lighting up the costly silks which hung above the couches, and the amber-coloured robe of his handsome daughter, the dark-eyed Rebekah. After the Magdalene, with whom, of course, she was never mentioned in the same breath, she was the loveliest woman in Judæa. The Jewish nose had halted midway down the face in Grecian fashion, and the olive skin, protected from almost every ray of sun, had grown of an opaque creamy whiteness, faintly stained as though by some sweet pink flower; and the eyes no one had ever quite known what was their colour; for, though they looked almost black and were fringed with the long, curling Jewish lash, still some declared that, if she looked upwards, they were blue as sapphire, yet that, when she was angry, they flashed ruby red. The beautiful face, the rounded chin of youth, the sweet, smiling mouth, like early barley in a coral pod, betrayed not yet the heritage of soul, for all the pride of a long line of priests, the subtlety of the Pharisees and Sadducees, and the crafty cunning of Annas mingled in the stream that coursed through those blue veins.

Of an intriguing spirit and brought up amongst the politicians and great rulers of the day, she had become a personage of some importance in Jerusalem, and young lawyers and rulers, anxious to ingratiate themselves with Caiaphas, and young Romans, and even Greeks, were included in the no small group of her admirers.

Her mother, Annas's daughter, was an invalid, a poor weak woman, whom dread of Caiaphas's outbursts of bad temper had reduced almost to imbecility.

Rebekah was no mean linguist, too; she could converse in Greek and Latin, and was often of great assistance to her father; but this was more from the pleasure of the importance she derived from it than from any wish to help, for Rebekah loved no one like herself.

To-day she lay across her couch, gazing moodily from the window, while her maidens played to her on the cithern, an instrument the Greeks had lately introduced. But its notes seemed but to irritate her.

"Stop, stop, stop!" she cried. "Ye do play such mournful tunes, 't is like the wailing at a burial. Come tell me, when ye passed the market place, were there great multitudes listening to this this carpenter. Saw ye any rulers there?" she asked, with scathing irony; "or did only the foul, the blind, the beggars, and the leprous assemble? For I hear this Man doth, above all, love sinners, and the beautiful Magdalene they say hath become a saint. Oh, the world must be upside down when the Magdalene doth become a penitent." And while she spoke and laughed there was something fraught with scorn and malice that reminded one of Caiaphas. "But tell me, maidens, saw ye any comely young men in the crowd?"

"Verily we saw Lazarus and Nicodemus and several wealthy rulers, listening so intently that they saw us not when we passed by."

"Oh, Nicodemus," she said scornfully, "that causeth me no surprise; but Lazarus!" She rose from the couch and went to the window and looked out, while she conjured up the beautiful, stern face of Lazarus. That was the man she had singled out in all Judæa to be the idol of her heart. On the few occasions of her seeing him, he had done no more than give her courteous recognition. Once, at the bidding of Caiaphas, Lazarus had come to the house, but he had barely addressed her. How well the young ruler remembered, when he had left her presence, how she had barred the doorway, and looking him in the eyes had said: "Why hatest thou me, Lazarus?" And how well she remembered the scorn in his eyes at her unmaidenly assurance, and yet the gentle courtesy of his voice, while he had answered: "Lady, I hate no one." And with a proud gesture she had moved aside and let him pass.

Then in that dark heart had sprung up a love that was so jealous and so fierce that it was almost hate.

"He shall love me, or he shall die," she had often murmured to herself.

But Lazarus came no more; and if, perchance, she saw him at some public gathering, he greeted her but distantly.

No alliance would have been more agreeable to Caiaphas than would this. Lazarus was wealthy, Lazarus was clever, and his life was such an one as Caiaphas would have desired for his daughter, though he himself could not have lived it.

Besides, he recognised in Lazarus a spirit of meekness that he fancied might make the mouldings of a creature in his hands; and Lazarus, by the side of Rebekah, with ambition and craft, would be a powerful colleague in the council chamber.

"He is spoilt by his own goodness," Caiaphas would tell himself."

Long did Rebekah muse. Then, turning to her maidens, said: "Thinkest thou that Lazarus doth believe in this Nazarene?"

" 'T is so said," one of them made reply, not wholly without malice. It was a satisfaction to see one who made others suffer suffer a little in return. "They say that Mary and Martha and Lazarus do receive the Nazarene in their house at Bethany, and that they believe He is the Christ."