Lazarus, a tale of the world's great miracle/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV.
SUDDENLY, like a mist or cloud formed from the sun's effulgence into a mass of golden atoms held together by their own glory, a figure clad in white, that seemed to irradiate its own shimmering purity with dazzling lustre, and to set at naught the brilliancy of the sun itself—the figure of the Nazarene—stood in the midst of them. The crowd fell back in awe, and all looked upwards, as though they thought He had descended from the heavens; for none had noticed His approach, or could tell whence He had come. Caiaphas started backward with a curse. "How long shall this man trouble us?" he muttered. Then, turning to a messenger—for one stood always at the entrance to his chamber—he commanded: "Go, tell the soldiers that stand below to hold themselves in readiness to lay hands upon this Jesus, and to bring Him hither when I give the word. Dost hear, fool?" he exclaimed sharply, when the man seemed to hesitate.
" 'T will be no easy task," replied the soldier; "for though the people revile those who say He is the Christ, yet, when they see Him they fall down and worship Him, and easily would tear to pieces those who seek to slay Him or lay hands on Him."
With cynicism and contempt, the High Priest replied: "It will perhaps make thy task the easier, coward, if thou tellest the soldiers that, unless my word be obeyed and the Nazarene brought here at my bidding, they shall forthwith be cast into prison and, maybe, crucified. Though they be Romans, Pontius Pilate hath agreed that, in all things, those who are in my service shall be tried by Jewish law." Speed thee now, or thou, too, shalt fear the power of the law."
Caiaphas could have put forward no two stronger incentives to action than the calling of a Roman subject a coward and threatening him with the humiliation of a Jewish punishment.
"This man is beyond forbearance," muttered the man, as he hurried down the stairs to obey Caiaphas's behest.
Then, with cruel delight, seeing that Nicodemus quivered and winced at his words, Caiaphas turned to him and said: "What thinkest thou, Nicodemus? Have I not done well? Is it not time this mummery had an end?"
Distraught with rage and impotence, yet not courageous enough to throw himself upon Caiaphas, Nicodemus answered: "Doth our law judge any man before it hear him and know what he hath done?"
Caiaphas laughed. "Thou, too, art gone mad, Nicodemus. Art thou also of Galilee? Search and look, for out of Galilee doth arise no prophet."
But Nicodemus answered: "Methinks it was of Galilee the prophet Isaiah spoke in the words: 'The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.' Now I call that thou thyself didst once preach in the Synagogue that this people was by way of the sea beyond Jordan in Galilee of the nations."
Caiaphas scowled. "Verily thou hast good memory, Nicodemus. 'T will be well that Cæsar and Herod learn that Nicodemus, the great ruler of the Synagogue, believeth that this Jesus is the Son of God."
Then, fearing lest he had said too much, he resumed the playful, half-patronising, half-deprecating, persuasiveness with which he had won over so many enemies. "Nay, heed me not, good Nicodemus," he went on; "thou hast a right to thine own thoughts; but thou art wrong, this Man is not the Christ. Nevertheless, let us step out on to the roof and listen, for He hath good flow of language, this Nazarene, and He interesteth me greatly."
Half sullenly, and half incredulously, yet wondering at the sudden change of mood of the cunning priest, Nicodemus followed him on to the flat roof.
As they stepped out, they heard the voice of the Nazarene speaking to the beggar; and Caiaphas leaned forward to listen.
"Dost thou believe in the Son of God?" asked the gently entreating voice; and the words thrilled Caiaphas against his will.
"Who is He, Lord?" replied the beggar, looking with doubting wonder, yet with love and gratitude, at the Perfect Man before him, His face marred only by the lines of suffering and pity drawn on it.
Breathless, the two rulers listened for the answer that Caiaphas had gone to Bethany to hear. It seemed as if, in answer to the questionings of their hearts, the Nazarene raised His eyes towards them, rather than to the beggar; as if, also, the message concerned both the individual and the world collectively, a vital truth addressed to every soul throughout the universe: "Thou hast both seen Him, and it is He that talketh with thee."
Caiaphas rose excitedly. "Dost hear this blasphemy, Nicodemus?" he almost shouted; but his voice was drowned in the uproar of the people; some crying: "It is the Lord, hear ye Him. The Messiah hath indeed come down." Others crying out: "He hath a devil."
But the beggar, as if struck suddenly with a revelation of the truth, cried out, in a voice that seemed to rend the skies: "Lord, I believe, Lord, I believe."
A smile, so heavenly as to be beyond the power of man's description, illumined the Messiah's face. His eyes were raised to heaven, as if in prayer and thankfulness for giving Him this one soul, at least, in all that multitude.
Caiaphas, meanwhile, was marching up and down the terrace, oblivious of the crowd, which, if it had not been so absorbed by the presence of the Nazarene would have espied him.
"This time I tell thee, Nicodemus, I will not delay. Even now will I give the order to arrest Him. This man bewitcheth the people with a devil."
"Nay, forbear," cried Nicodemus hastily. "Listen yet awhile. He goeth to Solomon's porch to preach to the multitude. If thou wilt slay Him it will be the last speech He maketh, and I would hear Him yet this once."
"As thou wilt; but it is the last time; my mind is made up," answered Caiaphas. And, while he spoke, he clenched his fists, and his features hardened into an expression that was diabolical.
"Yea, 't will surely be the last time," said Nicodemus to himself. But already the divine voice had begun to speak, and the crowd was silent, sitting, standing, kneeling around, while the little children clustered around the knees of the Nazarene, and looked boldly up into the face they loved and feared not.
His subject was that on which He had enlarged aforetime; that of the shepherd, the hireling, and the sheep.
When He paused, the cry went up, "What meanest Thou? Thou speakest in parables. Who is the shepherd, who are the sheep? Thinkest Thou that we are blind also, or fools like sheep, that these parables for children are for such as we? We are not beggars, we are not blind."
Caiaphas heard, and murmured in approval: "The Nazarene hath overreached Himself. The Jewish people love plain-speaking."
Then, in answer to the crowd, the voice of the Messiah rose again: "If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now ye say, we see; therefore your sin remaineth."
Then He proceeded to unfold the meaning of His parable.
When He ceased speaking, the Jews began discussing among themselves. Here and there a voice was heard crying out: "Show us Lazarus, and we will believe."
"They are no fools, the Jewish people," muttered Caiaphas; "they are a fair and reasonable people."
When the name of Lazarus was repeated by the crowd, a great sadness overspread the face of Jesus; this the people misread for trouble at His impotence, or at their detection of it. Fiercely and half mad with excitement, they gathered round the Nazarene.
"How long dost Thou make us to doubt?" said one. "Tell us plainly if Thou be the Christ."
Then once more Jesus answered them: "I told ye and ye believed not; the works that I do in My Father's name, they bear witness of Me. But ye believe not, because ye are not of My sheep. My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand."
A scoffing voice called out: "Nevertheless they have plucked Lazarus from out Thy hand." A mocking laugh went up from the crowd, and Caiaphas joined in it. Then the voice of Jesus rose once more:
"My Father, which gave them Me is greater than all, and no man is able to pluck them out of My Father's hand."
"He maketh out that Lazarus is with the Father," cried one.
"I and My Father are one," went on the calm, impressive voice.
Then some of the Jews took stones and hurled them at Him; but fearlessly, and with an indifference that brought a shout of admiration from the Roman soldiers standing round in waiting for Caiaphas's message to arrest Him, the Nazarene continued:
"Many good works have I showed ye from My Father; for which of these good works do ye now stone Me?"
Then the Jews cried out: "For a good work we stone Thee not, but for blasphemy, and because that Thou, being a man, makest Thyself God."
Once more the stones flew round the golden head of the Messiah. One of the disciples stepped forward, as if to shelter Him, but the Messiah raised His hand and went on:
"If I do not the works of My Father, believe Me not; but if I do, though ye believe not Me, believe the works, that ye may know and believe that the Father is in Me and I in Him."
Then, exasperated by His calmness, the Jews rose up and approached Him menacingly. Luke, who was standing just behind Jesus, stepped forward and took two of the children by the hand; then, raising them in his arms, handed them to their mothers, who stretched forward to receive them over the heads of the multitude.
Then, like a lion who has awaited his prey only to make its seizure more assured, Caiaphas thundered forth these words: "Quick, Gilner, hie thee to the soldiers. Bid them bring this Jesus to me here a captive." Then, with an after-thought, he added: "But no violence, mind ye."
The messenger, mindful of the High Priest's former threats, precipitated himself into the street, and Nicodemus, fearing the scene that was about to ensue, and yet not brave enough to try to defend the Nazarene; fearing also that he would at last be goaded into giving vent to the rage that seemed to suffocate him, bade a hasty farewell to Caiaphas, and took his leave.
Caiaphas remained alone, his head so bent that his chin rested on his breast. It all depended upon him now, the death or the life of the Nazarene. It all lay in his hands, the hands of Caiaphas. If—but it was too ridiculous to speculate upon—if this was the Son of God, even then Caiaphas would try to oppose, rather than descend from his place of power—for what was a high priest, after all, but a foreshadow of the future, ordained to keep alive in the hearts of men the promise of God to send the world a Saviour? When the Saviour should come, priest and ordinance would cease to be; this he knew well. Alone Caiaphas reasoned with himself. Shortly they would bring Jesus before him; surely, if He were the Son of God, He would give convincing proof of it. Either the great High Priest would be forced into obeisance and submission, or, if the Nazarene were but a fanatical prophet, a defier of the law, a blasphemer, a devil let loose to betray the people, Caiaphas, the great Caiaphas, would find it out. But deep, deep down in his heart that was gradually closing every door to faith, hardening each plastic fibre with ambition, lust, and greed, echoed still the words, "I am the good shepherd."
Yes, if he would but own it to himself, Caiaphas knew that there was something in the words of the Nazarene that had in it the ring of truth; that, like true coin, could never pass for false.
Too clever, too learned, was Caiaphas not to know the fast hold the Pharisees had on the people, not to be conscious that this enthralling power of lawyer, scribe, and Pharisee musts needs be broken through before the people could be set free to worship the living God.
Oh, he knew it well, this great High Priest; but a certainty of power in this world was more to him than a shadowy, uncertain place in God's eternity. Ambition, the love of power, the greatest temptations that can assail a man, were too strong for Caiaphas.
The day wore on, and, so absorbed was Caiaphas in his dreams, that he forgot his midday meal and his usual visit to the Synagogue.
The men were long in returning. Hour succeeded hour, and Caiaphas sat wondering why the soldiers came not with the Nazarene. He waited before sending other messengers, for he had given injunctions that no violence was to be used; maybe the Jews, or, at least, the followers of the Nazarene, the twelve who had declared themselves forever on His side, had offered some resistance. Yet it was strange that none came with a message, that there was no uproar, no tumult in the streets. Once he stepped out on to the terrace, and sheltering with his hands his eyes, he scanned Jerusalem, its roofs, its winding streets, the distant groves of palms; but nowhere were crowds, or even groups in sight.
"Perhaps they have killed Him in their zeal," he murmured to himself. As the afternoon wore on, and the glowing Eastern twilight fell almost suddenly, he began to marvel that none had come to him, and the thought oppressed him. It was strange indeed for Caiaphas to be thus unvisited and unattended. Now and then a waterman walked down the road with his goat skin slung across him, crying out mournfully, "Ho, any one that thirsteth."
Here and there a woman came out from her door with a pitcher to be filled; but the gloom of evening gathered quickly, for winter was beginning, and the Feast of Dedication was then at hand. He could see the priests closing the doors of the Temple, and on distant roofs a few praying with their faces towards the East. The night stretched across the sky like a veil of crape, and still the Nazarene came not, nor did the Roman soldiers return; and Caiaphas had to own himself defeated. Deeper and deeper fell the darkness on Jerusalem, and at last the city slept, as she will sleep "until the day break and the shadows flee away."