Lazarus, a tale of the world's great miracle/Chapter 28
CHAPTER XXVIII.
IT was the day of the Paschal Feast, and all night Martha had been busy preparing with her household the lamb and other dishes for the feast, including the thin Passover cakes which it was the custom to dip into the wine, or any other beverage, and send round in the cup.
While she worked, the Nazarene, watched by Lazarus, slept or prayed. A great misgiving was in the hearts of all. Everyone who came from Jerusalem brought different news, but all based on one great fact, the wrath of the Pharisees and rulers in general, and of Caiaphas in particular, at the reception of the Messiah on His late entry into Jerusalem. It was fear, both physical and moral, that actuated Caiaphas now. As a frightened dog snaps and flies at those around him, each in turn, so Caiaphas tried to hide his own trepidation beneath a semblance of attack.
Yet these rumours filled with dismay the hearts of those who loved the Lord.
"I fear me; I fear me greatly," Lazarus said.
"He will eat the Passover at Jerusalem, according to the law of Moses, yet surely they will there surprise Him."
"How can it be," asked Martha, "that Judas, who doth follow Him day and night, doth compass to betray Him? Methinks that even Satan himself would not act thus."
"Nay, Satan doth make others to sin for him," answered Lazarus; "but 't is greed with Judas, the love of money that is the curse of all our nation; that doth even overwhelm the world. Surely the wrath of Caiaphas is not that the Master doth call Himself the Son of God, but that the tables of the money-changers and of the sellers of doves were overturned. The spaces, too, in the Temple court, 't is well known that a Pharisee doth give a high price to Caiaphas to have the right to sell there."
"But to sell the Lord for thirty pieces of silver! the price of the meanest slave!"
"Dost not mind the prophet Zechariah, how he saith, 'So they weighed for my price thirty pieces of silver'?"
"But the Lord, the Lord! " said Martha, while tears rose to her eyes.
At that moment Mary entered the room. "The Lord hath need of Peter and John, to send them to Jerusalem."
"Still will He sup with them at Jerusalem?" asked Lazarus, as he went to do as he had been bid.
Then the Nazarene gave this order to the disciples: "Go ye into the city, and there shall meet ye a man bearing a pitcher of water: follow him. And wheresoever he shall go in, say ye to the goodman of the house, The Master saith, Where is the guest-chamber, where I shall eat the passover with My disciples? And he will show you a large upper room furnished and prepared: there make ready for us."
"Surely 't is a wonderful thing," said Lazarus to his sisters, "this union of the man and God; for, when He willeth, He can command angels for signs and wonders, and He knoweth all things; yet by His power will He escape none of the troubles of this world; for, methinks, if now He did but command a legion of angels to defend Him from the High Priest, they would descend."
"Verily, verily thou speakest truth," said Mary.
" 'T is marvellous that this God, for love of us, should deign to suffer sorrow, as though He were but man."
Evening had come, and Jesus, accompanied by Lazarus and the twelve apostles, started for the Passover Feast. The two women watched them go with tightening hearts.
"Who knoweth," said Martha, "whether they will ever return? My heart misgiveth me, and Jerusalem doth fill my soul with terror."
But Mary said nothing; only raised an inward prayer that if they should be taken that night they might not suffer long.
And then the two women turned back to their solitary house, from which all sunshine seemed to have departed, as it had when Lazarus had died.
"Mark thee," said Martha to her sister, "there are terrible days in store for us; for if Jerusalem do this wicked thing, to slay the Son of God, surely the curse of God will be upon her, and the nations will trample upon her and slay her people."
"Pray God that our faith fail not," murmured Mary.
Presently, Mary Magdalene, whom they had bidden to the Feast of the Passover, and a few other God-fearing women, came, and in sadness and prayer the evening passed.
In Jerusalem more stirring events were taking place. The Feast of the Passover had begun; the low tables stood ready covered with the dishes prepared by Martha's loving hands, and carried by Peter and John to the chamber provided for the Nazarene. The cushions or couches were arranged, the mats spread out, and one by one they took their seats, the Messiah taking the chief place, and John reclining on the couch on the right of Jesus, so that his head was brought close to the Christ's right arm. They were dusty with their journey, and when Lazarus stooped and unfastened the latchets of the Messiah's sandals, he wished that he could wash those beloved feet; but there were no slaves present to fetch water, so in silence he took his seat.
Some instinct made him seat himself next Judas. If any treason were abroad he would be ready to defend the Christ.
The supper began gloomily. Too many mournful feelings were wafted hither and thither, anticipations were too sombre and too terrible.
To Lazarus, who believed that Judas Iscariot was about to betray the Lord, the presence of the traitor seemed unbearable. All were paralysed with wonder, expectant of something, yet they knew not what. How could they tell that evening, that repentance and eternal life would be offered to a soul so cramped by greed and avarice that it would reject heaven for hell, and all for thirty pieces of silver? Surely a sorry price for such a crime!
Then, when Jesus saw that none performed the kindly office of washing of the feet, He rose from the table and sent one of the disciples to fetch water. The lessons would be few that He would teach them now; after to-morrow, the Son of God would be a prisoner. To-night the teachings, that would last through all the ages of the earth, must be set forth; and to the patient, loving Teacher it seemed that no word must be left unsaid that might make the bitter lessons of the future easier.
With amaze they watched Him take off his upper garment and gird a towel round his loins, then pour water into a large copper basin that stood by.
In silence they regarded Him, while He knelt at the feet of one after another of His disciples, and dipped His shapely hands, hands that worked only for the good of many, into the limpid water. None spoke, or offered to relieve Him of the task, lest they should seem to think that He performed only a menial act, when, in truth, they looked upon it as a symbol of some great teaching; yet each was distressed to see his Lord thus meekly kneeling.
"Surely this is the greatest lesson of all," said Lazarus.
When Jesus came to Peter, the apostle could contain himself no longer.
"Thou shalt never wash my feet," he said, standing up, and, with two hands, pressing away the basin.
But, with quiet insistence, the Nazarene replied: "If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with Me." Then Peter understood that this was some great ceremonial, to complete the bonds of love and tenderness between the chosen few and their Messiah; and, humble as a little child, he answered: "Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head."
But Jesus proceeded to wash his feet, saying the while: "He that is washed needeth not but to wash his feet, and is clean every whit, and ye are clean." Then, turning His full gaze upon Iscariot, He said, with a deep yearning in His voice: "But not all."
Then all watched with wonder to see whether Jesus would wash the feet of Judas too.
But even Judas was not omitted from His loving hands. There was breathless silence while he washed the feet of the man whom all suspected now to be the traitor. And, while He did so, Jesus raised His mournful eyes to those of Judas and gazed at him repoachfully.
"Wilt thou too not be clean?" the look seemed to say. "There is yet time to draw back; it must be that I die, but it needs not be through thee. Thou hast planned thy scheme, they are waiting for thee without; thou knowest My plans, and art to tell them whither I go this night; but go not. Let Me draw thee to Me by the bonds of love. Let Me cleanse thy soul of all its filth. Return to Me; I am still here waiting, waiting. Time is passing quickly, a life's remorse awaits thee in this world, a dreadful death; in the next an eternity of pain. Draw back."
All that it seemed to say; but Judas shifted uneasily on his seat, as though the touch of Jesus scorched his nerves, and he kept his eyes down, as though searching the water in the copper basin, that in the light of the lamp shone more ruddily than his own red hair.
And Lazarus, in grief and wonder, murmured to himself: "His own familiar friend, His own familiar friend."
Then, when Jesus sat down again, a look of pain and grief passed over Him. It was as though He had lost something, or had missed a face from the throng He would one day see again. And, while He explained to them the meaning of His service of humility, a great gloom settled on them all.
"If I, then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example that ye should do as I have done unto you."
There was a tone of weariness, almost of despondency, in the tender voice.
He was filled with horror at the duplicity of the man who sat at the table with Him; with sorrow at the greed and hardness of his heart; at the awful future he was preparing for himself. Perhaps, too, in all reverence be it said, there was in the human essence of His Person a shrinking from the trial that lay before Him, and the faintest glimmer of a doubt whether the stupendous sacrifice He contemplated was not in excess of the result to be obtained. Who, in a humbler way, has not felt, after some action of self-sacrifice or self-denial has been performed, "What good has it done after all? I might have spared myself"?
The nerves of the little band were strung to the highest pitch. Encased in bonds of human ignorance and incapacity, they were daily in presence of divine outpourings their understanding failed to hold. The peace and comfort that were to be the parting gifts of the Messiah had not yet come. Their hearts were torn with grief, their brains weary with fruitless speculation, their bodies suffering from the fatigue of many watchings and a long day's walk. Besides all this, was the foreboding of their approaching separation from Him who was the centre-piece of their soul's refreshment, the fountain of revivification. It was as though the demon of despair was sifting them as wheat, as though great dark wings of horror were folding gradually about them. Their emotions held them dumb. Then, in the general silence, the Messiah broke forth with the cry: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray Me.' The mask of hypocrisy was to be torn away, the awe-charged atmosphere that hung about them was to explode with a flash of revelation. The unerring, penetrating bolt of Truth was to crash through the outwork of hypocrisy and expose to view the citadel of greed and unbelief and envy. To-night it should be proclaimed that one sat there a traitor to his friend and to his God; the righteous efforts of the little band of believers should no longer be paralysed and polluted by the presence of one who should for evermore be damned. The vile, corrupted thing should be rooted out, as a cancer is plucked out from the body. On this last night of His living, loving ministry the Christ would exert His right to have about Him only those who loved Him. Only to them would that great commission of love and peace be given. No longer should the words of a God fall on the ears of Satan's emissary.
It seemed to the disciples, at His words, as though the wrath of God had been let loose at last. In horror lest, by some mischance, it might be he, mindful that sin was ever near, each one cried out: "Is it I? Is it I?"
Had they by any negligence, by any accident, by any careless guarding of their tongues, betrayed the Lord? God forbid; and a silent prayer went up from all, save Judas: "Lord, save us from this thing."
Then, with a hypocritical smile, trying still, as so many have tried, to brazen out a lie, Judas leaned forward and asked: "Rabbi, is it I?"
And Jesus, looking at him with deepest pity in His eyes, made answer: "Thou hast said." And, with the words, He dipped a piece of the Passover cake into a cup of wine and handed it to Judas.
Maybe, even now He hoped by this great act of condescension to win him over. It was as though He said: "Although it is thou, yet I still love thee; I still offer thee the salvation that is offered to others. Wilt thou not take it?"
For one instant, Judas recoiled before his deed; for one instant he hesitated. Then, as if to defy them all, he dipped his fingers in the cup and took the divine offering. A murmur rose from the little body.
One leaned over to the other and said: "Shall we smite him? Shall we slay him?"
But Peter, with a voice thick with passion, cried out: "Seest thou the red drops of wine upon thy fingers? So shall the blood of Jesus be upon thee forever and ever."
Then, when violence seemed imminent, for each rose from his seat and approached Judas menacingly, the Messiah made a sign to him to disappear, before he should be torn to pieces.
"What thou doest, do quickly," He commanded. And the man whom, since the beginning of His ministry, He had loved and counselled, arose and left the room, followed by the sad eyes of the Messiah. Then, to cheer His sorrowing disciples, the Lord raised His voice almost to a chant, and cried: "Now is the Son of man glorified, and God is glorified in Him."
Then, once more, He poured out wine; but when they pressed Him, too, to drink, He pushed the cup away, with the words: "I will not drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father's kingdom."
The supper had come to an end, and all stood up and sang a Hebrew hymn. Then, one after another, they followed their Lord out into the moonlight, to make their way with Him to the Mount of Olives and thence to the Garden of Gethsemane; that garden holy for evermore, because watered by the tears of agony of the Son of God.