"WHAT are you looking for, grandfather?" called Jesse, as he pattered up
the outside stairs to the roof, where Reuben stood, scanning the sky
intently.
"Come here, my son," he called. "Stand right here in front of me, and
look just where I point. What do you see?"
The child peered anxiously into the blue depths just now lit up by the
sunset.
"Oh, the new moon!" he cried. "Where did it come from?"
"Summer hath dropped her silver sickle there, that Night may go forth to
harvest in her star-fields," answered the old man. Then seeing the look
of inquiry on the boy's face, hastened to add, "Nay, it is the censer
that God's hand set swinging in the sky, to remind us to keep the
incense of our praises ever rising heavenward. Even now a messenger may
be running towards the Temple, to tell the Sanhedrin that it has
appeared. Yea, other eyes have been sharper than mine, for see! Already
the beacon light has been kindled on the Mount of Olives!"
Jesse watched the great bonfire a few minutes, then ran to call his
sister. By the time they were both on the roof, answering fires were
blazing on the distant hilltops throughout all Judea, till the whole
land was alight with the announcement of the Feast of the New Moon.
"I wish it could be this way every night, don't you, Ruth?" said Jesse.
"Are you not glad we are here?"
The old man looked down at the children with a pleased smile. "I'll show
you something prettier than this, before long," he said. "Just wait till
the Feast of Weeks, when the people all come to bring the first fruits
of the harvests. I am glad your visit is in this time of the year, for
you can see one festival after another."
The day the celebration of the Feast of Weeks commenced, Reuben left his
shop in charge of the attendants, and gave up his entire time to Joel
and Jesse.
"We must not miss the processions," he said. "We will go outside the
gates a little way, and watch the people come in."
They did not have long to wait till the stream of people from the upper
countries began to pour in; each company carried a banner bearing the
name of the town from which it came. A white ox, intended for a
peace-offering, was driven first; its horns were gilded, and its body
twined with olive wreaths.
Flocks of sheep and oxen for the sacrifice, long strings of asses and
camels bearing free-will gifts to the Temple, or old and helpless
pilgrims that could not walk, came next.
There were wreaths of roses on the heads of the women and children;
bands of lilies were tied around the sheaves of wheat. Piled high in the
silver vessels of the rich, or peeping from the willow baskets of the
poor, were the choicest fruits of the harvest.
Great bunches of grapes from whose purple globes the bloom had not been
brushed, velvety nectarines, tempting pomegranates, mellow pears, juicy
melons,--these offerings of fruit and flowers gleamed all down the long
line, for no one came empty-handed up this "Hill of the Lord."
As they drew near the gates, a number of white-robed priests from the
Temple met them. Reuben lifted Jesse in his arms that he might have a
better view. "Listen," he said. Joel climbed up on a large rock.
A joyful sound of flutes commenced, and a mighty chorus went up: "I was
glad when they said unto me, let us go into the house of the Lord. Our
feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem!"
Voice after voice took up the old psalm, and Reuben's deep tones joined
with the others, as they chanted, "Peace be within thy walls, and
prosperity within thy palaces!"
Following the singing pilgrims to the Temple, they saw the priests take
the doves that were to be for a burnt-offering, and the first fruits
that were to be laid on the altars.
Jesse held fast to his grandfather's hand as they passed through the
outer courts of the Temple. He was half frightened by the din of voices,
the stamping and bellowing and bleating of the animals as they were
driven into the pens.
He had seen one sacrificial service; the great stream of blood pouring
over the marble steps of the altar, and the smoke of the burnt-offering
were still in his mind. It made him look pityingly now at the
gentle-eyed calves and the frightened lambs. He was glad to get away
from them.
Soon after the time of this rejoicing was over, came ten solemn days
that to Joel were full of interest and mystery. They were the days of
preparation for the Fast of the Atonement. Disputes between neighbors
were settled, and sins confessed.
The last great day, the most solemn of all, was the only time in the
whole year when the High Priest might draw aside the veil, and enter
into the Holy of Holies.
With all his rich robes and jewels laid aside, clad only in simple
white, with bare feet and covered head, he had to go four times into the
awful Presence. Once to offer incense, once to pray, to sprinkle the
blood of a goat towards the mercy-seat, and then to bring out the
censer.
That was the day when two goats were taken; by casting lots one was
chosen for a sacrifice. On the other the High Priest laid the sins of
the people, and it was driven out into the wilderness, to be dashed to
pieces from some high cliff.
Tears came into Joel's eyes, as he watched the scape-goat driven away
into the dreary desert. He pitied the poor beast doomed to such a death
because of his nation's sins.
Then came the closing ceremonies, when the great congregation bowed
themselves three times to the ground, with the High Priest shouting
solemnly, "Ye are clean! Ye are clean! Ye are clean!"
Joel was glad when the last rite was over, and the people started to
their homes, as gay now as they had been serious before.
"When are we going back to our other home?" asked Ruth, one day.
"Why, are you not happy here, little daughter?" said Abigail. "I thought
you had forgotten all about the old place."
"I want my white pigeons," she said, with a quivering lip, as if she had
suddenly remembered them. "I don't want my father not to be here!" she
sobbed; "and I want my white pigeons!"
Abigail picked her up and comforted her. "Wait just a little while. I
think father will surely come soon. I will get my embroidery, and you
may go with me across the street."
Ruth had been shy at first about going to see her mother's friends; but
Martha coaxed her in with honey cakes she baked for that express
purpose, and Mary told her stories and taught her little games.
After a while she began to flit in and out of the house as fearlessly as
a bright-winged butterfly.
One day her mother was sitting with the sisters in a shady corner of
their court-yard, where a climbing honeysuckle made a cool sweet arbor.
Ruth was going from one to the other, watching the bright embroidery
threads take the shape of flowers under their skilful fingers. Suddenly
she heard the faint tinkle of a silver bell. While she stood with one
finger on her lip to listen, Lazarus came into the court-yard.
"See what I have brought you, little one," he said. "It is to take the
place of the pigeons you are always mourning for."
It was a snow-white lamb, around which he had twined a garland of many
colored flowers, and from whose neck hung the little silver bell she had
heard.
At first the child was so delighted she could only bury her dimpled
fingers in the soft fleece, and look at it in speechless wonder. Then
she caught his hand, and left a shy little kiss on it, as she lisped,
"Oh, you're so good! You're so good!"
After that day Ruth followed Lazarus as the white lamb followed Ruth;
and the sisters hardly knew which sounded sweeter in their quiet home,
the tinkling of the silver bell, or the happy prattle of the baby
voice.
Abigail spent many happy hours with her friends. One day as they sat in
the honeysuckle arbor, busily sewing, Ruth and Jesse came running
towards them.
"I see my father coming, and another man," cried the boy. "I'm going to
meet them."
They all hastened to the door, just as the tired, dusty travellers
reached it.
"Peace be to this house, and all who dwell therein," said the stranger,
before Phineas could give his wife and friends a warmer greeting.
"We went first to your father's house, but, finding no one at home, came
here," said Phineas.
"Come in!" insisted Martha. "You look sorely in need of rest and
refreshment."
But they had a message to deliver before they could be persuaded to eat
or wash.
"The Master is coming," said Phineas. "He has sent out seventy of His
followers, to go by twos into every town, and herald His approach, and
proclaim that the day of the Lord is at hand. We have gone even into
Samaria to carry the tidings there."
"At last, at last!" cried Mary, clasping her hands. "Oh, to think that I
have lived to see this day of Israel's glory!"
"Tell us what the Master has been doing," urged Abigail, after the men
had been refreshed by food and water.
First one and then the other told of miracles they had seen, and
repeated what He had taught. Even the children crept close to listen,
leaning against their father's knees.
"There has been much discussion about the kingdom that is to be formed.
While we were in Peter's house in Capernaum, some of the disciples came
quarrelling around Him, to ask who should have the highest positions. I
suppose those who have followed Him longest think they have claim to the
best offices."
"What did He say?" asked Abigail, eagerly.
Phineas laid his hand on Ruth's soft curls. "He took a little child like
this, and set it in our midst, and said that he who would be greatest in
His kingdom, must become even like unto it!"
"Faith and love and purity on the throne of the Herods," cried Martha.
"Ah, only Jehovah can bring such a thing as that to pass!"
"Are you going to stay at home now, father?" asked Jesse, anxiously.
"No, my son. I must go on the morrow to carry my report to the Master,
of the reception we have had in every town. But I will soon be back
again to the Feast of Tabernacles."
"Carry with you our earnest prayer that the Master will abide with us
when He comes again to Bethany," said Martha, as her guests departed.
"No one is so welcome in our home, as the friend of our brother
Lazarus."
The preparation for the Feast of the Tabernacles had begun. "I am going
to take the children to the city with me to-day!" said Reuben, one
morning, "to see the big booth I am having built. It will hold all our
family, and as many friends as may care to share it with us."
Jesse was charmed with the great tent of green boughs.
"I wish I could have been one of the children that Moses led up out of
Egypt," he said, with a sigh.
"Why, my son?" asked Reuben.
"So's I could have wandered around for forty years, living in a tent
like this. How good it smells, and how pretty it is! I wish you and
grandmother would live here all the time!"
The next day Phineas joined them. It was a happy family that gathered in
the leafy booth for a week of out-door rejoicing in the cool autumn
time.
"Where is the Master?" asked Abigail.
"I know not," answered her husband. "He sent us on before."
"Will He be here, I wonder?" she asked, and that question was on nearly
every lip in Jerusalem.
"Will He be here?" asked the throngs of pilgrims who had heard of His
miracles, and longed to see the man who could do such marvellous things.
"Will He be here?" whispered the scribes to the Pharisees. "Let Him
beware!"
"Will He be here?" muttered Caiaphas the High Priest. "Then better one
man should die, than that the whole community perish."
The sight that dazzled the eyes of the children that first evening of
the week, was like fairyland; a blaze of lanterns and torches lit up the
whole city.
In the Court of the Women, in the Temple, all the golden lamps were lit,
twinkling and burning like countless stars.
On the steps that separated this court from the next one, stood three
thousand singers, the sons and daughters of the tribe of Levi. Two
priests stood at the top of the steps, and as each gave the signal on a
great silver trumpet, the burst of song that went up from the vast choir
seemed to shake the very heavens. Harps and psalters and flutes swelled
with the rolling waves of the organ's melody. To the sound of this
music, men marched with flaming torches in their hands, and the marching
and a weird torch-dance were kept up until the gates of the Temple
closed.
In the midst of all the feasting and the gayeties that followed, the
long-expected Voice was heard in the arcades of the Temple.
The Child of Nazareth was once more in His Father's house about His
Father's business.
On the last great day of the feast, Joel was up at day-break, ready to
follow the older members of the family as soon as the first
trumpet-blast should sound.
In his right hand he carried a citron, as did all the others; in his
left was a palm-branch, the emblem of joy. An immense multitude gathered
at the spring of Siloam. Water was drawn in a golden pitcher, and
carried back to be poured on the great altar, while the choir sang with
its thousands of voices, and all the people shouted, Amen and Amen!
When the days had gone by in which the seventy bullocks had been
sacrificed, and when the ceremonies were all over, then the leaves were
stripped from the green booths, and the people scattered to their
homes.
Long afterward, Jesse remembered only the torch-light dances, the silver
trumpets and the crowds, and the faint ringing of the fringe of bells on
the priest's robes as he carried the fire on the golden shovel to burn
the sweet-smelling incense.
Joel's memory rang often with two cries that had startled the people.
One when the water was poured from the golden pitcher. It was the
Master's voice: "_If any man thirst, let him come unto me_." The other
was when all eyes were turned on the blazing lamps. "_I am the Light of
the World!_"
Reuben thought oftenest of the blind man to whom he had seen sight
restored. But Lazarus was filled with anxiety and foreboding; through
his office of scribe, he had come in close contact with the men who were
plotting against his friend. Dark rumors were afloat. The air was hot
with whisperings of hate.
He had overheard a conversation between the Temple police, and some of
the chief priests and Pharisees.
"Why did ye not take Him, as ye were ordered?" they demanded angrily.
"We could not," was the response; "for never man spake like this man."
He had seen the mob searching for stones to throw at Him. Though He had
disappeared out of their midst unhurt, still Lazarus felt that some
terrible disaster was hanging threateningly over the head of his beloved
friend.