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.