From the Temple of the Rock
ANOTHER little girl who came from that same Temple of the Rock has a
story very different from the other, and far more typical.
It was on a blazing day in June, when the very air, tired of being hot,
leaned heavily upon us, and we felt unequal to contest, that a cough
outside my open door announced a visitor. "Come in!" Another cough, and
I looked out and saw a shuffling form disappear round the corner of the
house. I called again, and the figure turned. It was a man who had
helped us before, but about whose _bona-fides_ we had doubts; so we
asked without much hopefulness what he had to tell us. He said he had
reason to believe a certain Temple woman known to him had a child she
meant to dedicate to the god of a Temple a day's journey distant. Then
he paused. "Do you know where she is now?" "She is on her way to the
Temple." "It would be well if she came here instead." "If that is the
Animal's desire it may be possible to bring her." "Has she gone far?
Could you overtake her?" "She is waiting outside your gate."
At such a moment it is wise to show no surprise and no anxiety. All the
burning eagerness must be covered up with coolness. But in the hour that
intervened before the woman "at the gate" could be persuaded to come
further, we quieted ourselves in the Lord our God and held on for the
little child.
At last the shuffling step and the sound of voices told us they had
come--two women, the man, and a child. The child was a baby of something
under two, a sad-looking little thing, with great, dark, pathetic eyes
looking out from under limp brown curls. She was very pale and fragile;
and when the woman who carried her set her down upon the floor and
propped her against the wall, she leaned against it listlessly, with her
little chin in her tiny hand, in a sorrowful, grown-up fashion. I longed
to take her and nestle her comfortably; but, of course, took no notice
of her. Any sign of pity or sympathy would have been misunderstood by
the women. All through the interminable talk upon which her fate
depended, that child sat wearily patient, making no demands upon anyone;
only the little head drooped, and the mouth grew pitiful in its complete
despondency.
The ways of the East are devious. The fact that the child had been
brought to us did not indicate a decision to give her to us instead of
to the Temple. The woman and the man who had persuaded them to come had
much to say to one another, and there was much we had to explain. A
child given to Temple service is not in all cases entirely cut off from
her people. If the Temple woman's hold on her is sure, her relations are
sometimes allowed to visit her; so far as friendly intercourse goes she
is not lost to them. But with us things are different. For the child's
own sake we have to refuse all intercourse whatever. Once given to us,
she is lost to them as if they had never had her. We adopt the little
one altogether or not at all.
It is a delicate thing to explain all this so clearly that there can be
no misunderstanding about it, without so infuriating the relations that
they will have nothing more to do with us. Naturally their view-point is
entirely different from ours, and they cannot appreciate our reasons.
At such a time we lean upon the Invisible, and count upon that
supernatural help which alone is sufficient for us; we count also upon
the prayers of those who know what it is to pray through all opposing
forces, till the battle is won by faith which is the victory.
It was strange to watch the women as the talk went on. The _woman_
within them had died, there was nothing of it left to which we could
appeal; everything about them was perverted, unnatural. I looked at the
insensitive faces and then at the sensitive face of the child, and
entered deeper than ever into the mercifulness of God's denunciations of
sin.
Once towards the close of what had been a time of some tension, the
leader of the two women suddenly sprang up, snatched at the tired baby,
and flung out of the room with her. She had been gradually hardening;
and I had felt rather than seen the shutting down of the prison-house
gates upon that little soul, and had, as a last resource, appealed to
the sense, not wholly atrophied, the sense that recognises the
supernatural. God is, I told them briefly; God takes cognisance of what
we are and do: God will repay: some time, somewhere, God will punish
sin. The arrow struck through to the mark. Startled, indignant,
overwhelmed by the sweep of an awful conviction, with a passionate cry
she rushed away; and we lived through one breathless moment, but the
next saw the child dropped into our arms, safe at last.
Facts about any matter of importance are usually other than at first
stated; but we have reason to believe that in this instance our
shuffling friend spoke the truth. The women were really on their way to
the Temple when he waylaid them. The wonder was that they allowed
themselves to be persuaded by him to come to us. But if nothing happened
except what we might naturally expect would happen in this work, we
might as well give it up at once. If we did not expect our Jericho
walls to fall down flat, it would be foolish indeed to continue marching
round them.
It was a relief when the women left the compound, after signing a paper
committing the child to us. There is defilement in the mere thought of
evil, but such close contact with it is a thing by itself. The sense of
contamination lasted for days; and yet would that we could go through it
every day if the result might be the same! For the child woke up to a
new life, and became what a child should be. At first it was very
pitiful. She would sit hour after hour as she had sat through that first
hour, with her chin in hand, her eyes cast down, and the little mouth
pathetic. We found that, in accordance with a custom prevailing in the
coterie of Temple women belonging to the Temple of the Rock, she had
been lent by her mother to another woman when she was an infant, the
other lending her baby in exchange. This exchange had worked sadly; for
the little one had asked for something which had not been given her, and
her two years had left her starved of love and experienced in
loneliness. But when she came to us everything changed; for love and
happiness took her hands and led her back to baby ways, and taught her
how to laugh and play: and now there is nothing left to remind us of
those two first years but a certain droop of the little mouth when she
feels for the moment desolate, or wants some extra petting.