IT was Sabbath morning in the house of Laban the Pharisee. Joel, sitting
alone in the court-yard, could hear his aunt talking to the smaller
children, as she made them ready to take with her to the synagogue.
From the upper chamber on the roof, came also a sound of voices, for two
guests had arrived the day before, and were talking earnestly with their
host. Joel already knew the object of their visit.
They had been there before, when the preaching of John Baptist had drawn
such great crowds from all the cities to the banks of the Jordan. They
had been sent out then by the authorities in Jerusalem to see what
manner of man was this who, clothed in skins and living in the
wilderness, could draw the people so wonderfully, and arouse such
intense excitement. Now they had come on a like errand, although on
their own authority.
Another prophet had arisen whom this John Baptist had declared to be
greater than himself. They had seen Him drive the moneychangers from the
Temple; they had heard many wild rumors concerning Him. So they followed
Him to His home in the little village of Nazareth, where they heard Him
talk in the synagogue.
They had seen the listening crowd grow amazed at the eloquence of His
teaching, and then indignant that one so humble as a carpenter's son
should claim that Isaiah's prophecies had been fulfilled in Himself.
They had seen Him driven from the home of His boyhood, and now had come
to Capernaum that they might be witnesses in case this impostor tried to
lead these people astray by repeating His claims.
All this Joel heard, and more, as the earnest voices came distinctly
down to him through the deep hush of the Sabbath stillness. It shook his
faith somewhat, even in the goodness of this friend of his friend
Phineas, that these two learned doctors of the Law should consider Him
an impostor.
He stood aside respectfully for them to pass, as they came down the
outside stairway, and crossed the court-yard on their way to the
morning service.
Their long, flowing, white robes, their broad phylacteries, their
dignified bearing, impressed him greatly. He knew they were wise, good
men whose only aim in life was to keep the letter of the Law, down to
its smallest details. He followed them through the streets until they
came to the synagogue. They gave no greeting to any one they passed, but
walked with reverently bowed heads that their pious meditation might not
be disturbed by the outside world. His aunt had already gone by the way
of the back streets, as it was customary for women to go, her face
closely veiled.
The synagogue, of finely chiselled limestone, with its double rows of
great marble pillars, stood in its white splendor, the pride of the
town. It had been built by the commander of the garrison who, though a
Roman centurion, was a believer in the God of the Hebrews, and greatly
loved by the whole people.
Joel glanced up at the lintel over the door, where Aaron's rod and a pot
of manna carved in the stone were constant reminders to the daily
worshippers of the Hand that fed and guided them from generation to
generation.
Joel limped slowly to his place in the congregation. In the seats of
honor, facing it, sat his uncle and his guests, among the rulers of the
synagogue.
For a moment his eyes wandered curiously around, hoping for a glimpse of
the man whose fame was beginning to spread all over Galilee. It had been
rumored that He would be there. But Joel saw only familiar faces. The
elders took their seats.
During the reading of the usual psalm, the reciting of a benediction,
and even the confession of the creed, Joel's thoughts wandered. When the
reader took up his scroll to read the passages from Deuteronomy, the boy
stole one more quick glance all around. But as the whole congregation
arose, and turned facing the east, he resolutely fixed his mind on the
duties of the hour.
The eighteen benedictions, or prayers, were recited in silence by each
devout worshipper. Then the leader repeated them aloud, all the
congregation responding with their deep Amen! and Amen! Joel always
liked that part of the service and the chanting that followed.
Another roll of parchment was brought out. The boy looked up with
interest. Probably one of his uncle's guests would be invited to read
from it, and speak to the people.
No, it was a stranger whom he had not noticed before, sitting behind one
of the tall elders, who was thus honored.
Joel's heart beat so fast that the blood throbbed against his ear-drums,
as he heard the name called. It was the friend of his friend Phineas,
_the Rabbi Jesus_.
Joel bent forward, all his soul in his eyes, as the stranger unrolled
the book, and began to read from the Prophets. The words were old
familiar ones; he even knew them by heart. But never before had they
carried with them such music, such meaning. When He laid aside the roll,
and began to speak, every fibre in the boy's being thrilled in response
to the wonderful eloquence of that voice and teaching.
The whole congregation sat spell-bound, forgetful of everything except
the earnestness of the speaker who moved and swayed them as the wind
does the waving wheat.
Suddenly there arose a wild shriek, a sort of demon-like howl that
transfixed them with its piercing horror. Every one turned to see the
cause of the startling sound. There, near the door, stood a man whom
they all knew,--an unhappy creature said to be possessed of an unclean
spirit.
"Ha!" he cried, in a blood-curdling tone. "What have we to do with Thee,
Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to destroy us? I know Thee, who thou
art, the holy One of God!"
There was a great stir, especially in the woman's gallery; and those
standing nearest him backed away as far as possible.
Every face was curious and excited, at this sudden interruption,--every
face but one; the Rabbi Jesus alone was calm.
"Hold thy peace and come out of him!" He commanded. There was one more
shriek, worse than before, as the man fell at His feet in a convulsion;
but in a moment he stood up again, quiet and perfectly sane. The wild
look was gone from his eyes. Whatever had been the strange spell that
had bound him before, he was now absolutely free.
There was another stir in the woman's gallery. Contrary to all rule or
custom, an aged woman pushed her way out. Down the stairs she went,
unveiled through the ranks of the men, to reach her son whom she had
just seen restored to reason. With a glad cry she fell forward,
fainting, in his arms, and was borne away to the little home, now no
longer darkened by the shadow of a sore affliction.
Little else was talked about that day, until the rumor of another
miracle began to spread through the town. Phineas, stopping at Laban's
house on his way home from an afternoon service, confirmed the truth of
it.
One of his neighbors had been dangerously ill with a fever that was
common in that part of the country; she was the mother-in-law of Simon
bar Jonah. It was at his home that the Rabbi Jesus had been invited to
dine.
As soon as He entered the house, they besought Him to heal her. Standing
beside her, He rebuked the fever; and immediately she arose, and began
to help her daughter prepare for the entertainment of their guest.
"Abigail was there yesterday," said Phineas, "to carry some broth she
had made. She thought then it would be impossible for the poor creature
to live through the night. I saw the woman a few hours ago, and she is
perfectly well and strong."
That night when the sun was setting, and the Sabbath was at an end, a
motley crowd streamed along the streets to the door of Simon bar Jonah.
Men carried on couches; children in their mother's arms; those wasted by
burning fevers; those shaken by unceasing palsy; the lame; the blind;
the death-stricken,--all pressing hopefully on.
What a scene in that little court-yard as the sunset touched the wan
faces and smiled into dying eyes. Hope for the hopeless! Balm for the
broken in body and spirit! There was rejoicing in nearly every home in
Capernaum that night, for none were turned away. Not one was refused. It
is written, "He laid His hand on every one of them, and healed them."
That he might not seem behind his guests in zeal and devotion to the
Law, the dignified Laban would not follow the crowds.
"Let others be carried away by strange doctrines and false prophets, if
they will," he declared; "as for me and my household, we will cling to
the true faith of our fathers."
So the three sat in the upper chamber on the roof, and discussed the new
teacher with many shakes of their wise heads.
"It is not lawful to heal on the Sabbath day," they declared. "Twice
during the past day He has openly transgressed the Law. He will lead all
Galilee astray!"
But Galilee cared little how far the path turned from the narrow faith
of the Pharisees, so long as it led to life and healing.
Down in the garden below, the children climbed up on the grape-arbor,
and peered through the vines at the surging crowds which they would have
joined, had it not been for Laban's strict commands.
One by one they watched people whom they knew go by, some carried on
litters, some leaning on the shoulders of friends. One man crawled
painfully along on his hands and knees.
After awhile the same people began to come back.
"Look, quick, Joel!" one of the children cried; "there goes Simon ben
Levi. Why, his palsy is all gone! He doesn't shake a bit now! And
there's little Martha that lives out near Aunt Rebecca's! Don't you know
how white and thin she looked when they carried her by a little while
ago? See! she is running along by herself now as well as we are!"
The children could hardly credit their own sense of sight, when
neighbors they had known all their lives to be bed-ridden invalids came
back cured, singing and praising God.
It was a sight they never could forget. So they watched wonderingly till
darkness fell, and the last happy-hearted healed one had gone home to a
rejoicing household.
While the fathers on the roof were deciding they would have naught of
this man, the children in the grape-arbor were storing up in their
simple little hearts these proofs of his power and kindness.
Then they gathered around Joel on the doorstep, while he repeated the
story that the old shepherd Heber had told him, of the angels and the
star, and the baby they had worshipped that night in Bethlehem.
"Come, children," called his Aunt Leah, as she lit the lamp that was to
burn all night. "Come! It is bed-time!"
His cousin Hannah lingered a moment after the others had gone in, to
say, "That was a pretty story, Joel. Why don't you go and ask the good
man to straighten your back?"
Strange as it may seem, this was the first time the thought had occurred
to him that he might be benefited himself. He had been so long
accustomed to thinking of himself as hopelessly lame, that the wonderful
cures he had witnessed had awakened no hope for himself. A new life
seemed to open up before him at the little girl's question. He sat on
the doorstep thinking about it until his Uncle Laban came down and
crossly ordered him to go to bed.
He went in, saying softly to himself, "I will go to him to-morrow; yes,
early in the morning!"
Strange that an old proverb should cross his mind just then. "Boast not
thyself of to-morrow. Thou knowest not what a day may bring forth."