SCATTERING THE FLOCK
They were in a single large chamber, rough, barren and barn-like. The
gray drapery of cob-webs was sown with chaff; there was the fresh smell
of grain with the mustiness of dust contending for prominence; the
floor was dry packed earth that had not tasted rain for a century.
High above the few resin torches burning on the walls, huge cedar beams
traversed the ceiling which was tight, that no moisture nor the
consuming rays of the sun should enter. It was an abandoned grain
house, builded just without the reach of the highest storm-wave on the
water-front.
There were two or three benches, but not seating capacity for the
number gathered there. So the youths, women and children sat on the
earth along the walls and left the benches to the older men of the
assembly.
Marsyas glanced at the gathering. He saw there not one, but many
races, however Jewish in predominance. In most of the number he found
a common expression, which made him think. It was a certain
delineation of fortitude, a brave patience that does not forswear
persistence, however seriously the heart fears. In others, there were
curiosity and expectation; in still others, apprehension and suspicion.
These, he noted, seemed not to wear that look of uplift; intuitively,
he knew them to be investigators, more or less convinced, at the
moment. Others, he saw, came with bundles of belongings as if prepared
for a journey.
Eleazar selected a place by the door and signing to Marsyas that he
would sit and await the young Essene's will, dropped down on the packed
earth, and, drawing up his powerful limbs, clasped his arms around
them. The torch above his head threw the shadow of his projecting
kerchief over his face and hid his features.
There was space between him and the next sitter, a young woman wearing
the dress of a Jewish matron. She glanced uneasily at the huge
stranger and drew closer to a man of her own age, on the other side.
Marsyas, seized with a new interest, sat down between the rabbi and the
woman.
At the farther end of the building a man arose. He had a pilgrim's
scrip at his side; he put away a staff as he gained his feet, and the
heightened color of the brown on his cheek-bones and his nose showed
that he had but recently come from a long journey.
He raised his arms over the assembly, and each of those gathered there
bowed his head and clasped his hands.
"O patient Bearer of the Cross," he prayed, "let us not faint thus
soon--we who are driven on! Let Thy footsteps be illumined that we may
go Thy way, even though they lead unto Calvary! Teach us Thy
submission, quicken us with Thy love, clothe us with Thy charity, that
they who oppress us may see that submission is stronger than rebellion,
that love is more enduring than hate, that charity is broad enough for
our enemies. And if it be Thy will that we should love the spoiler of
Thy Church and the destroyer of Thy saints, teach us then to love that
enemy!"
This of a surety was not what Marsyas had expected to hear.
Undoubtedly the praying man spoke of Saul. The prayer continued.
"Lo, Thou hast tarried thus long away from us, and evil already
gathereth thick about Thy people. In those days, when we asked and
were answered, voice unto voice, we did not grope. Now, O Lord, we ask
and there answers but the speech of faith left in us, and that in
grievous hours--doth not bid the cup to pass from us!"
Marsyas' chin sank on his breast; somehow the faltering sentences fell
on some keenly sensitive spot in his soul, for in spirit he winced, and
listened intently, in spite of himself.
"Yet, judge us not as wavering, O Lord; we but miss Thee from our side,
who loved Thee, O Christ!"
The sentence ceased suddenly at the edge of a break in the voice. It
seemed that human sorrow had broken in on an inspiration, and the sound
of a sob arose here and there from the bowed circle of Nazarenes.
Marsyas suddenly saw the dark trampled space without Hanaleel, the
falling night, the still figure of Stephen stretched on the sand, the
three humble mourners who of all Jerusalem were not afraid to sorrow
for him, and the young Essene choked back a cry to the praying man,
"I know thy pain, brother!"
For that instant bond of sorrow it did not matter that, according to
Marsyas' lights, the praying man blasphemed and besought another than
the one Lord God as divinity. The Nazarene had loved a friend and lost
him from his side; the voice had ceased and, in place of the warm
content, only agony and emptiness abode in the heart.
"Show us Thy will; let us see and we shall follow; above all things
quicken our ears that Thy loved voice may still be sweet in them across
the boundaries of Death and through the darkness which embraceth our
heads. Lo, Thou art with us alway even unto the end, we believe, we
believe!"
There was too much human suffering, self-examination and beseeching in
the prayer for it to help any who heard it. It was not like Stephen's
prayers, which had seized upon Marsyas' spirit because of their
unshaken confidence and beatification, and had terrified him, as
assaults upon his steadfastness. In those moments, he had been afraid
of the Nazarene heresy; now, he was stirred to pity for the heretics.
The sensation added to his resolution against Saul.
Another voice roused him, by reason of its difference from that of the
first speaker. It was not loud, but it carried and penetrated every
dusty corner of the great space, with the strength and evenness of a
sounded horn. The temper as well as the quality was different; it was
triumphant, eager, glad.
"It is the hour of fulfilment, beloved; the accomplishment of the
prophecy, for by persecution shall we who are witnesses to the truth be
scattered into all the world that the gospel may come unto every
creature. The flesh in us which crieth out and feareth death shall be
the instrument whereby fleeing to save ourselves we shall go quickened
into distant lands and testify. Wherefore let not any soul lament this
day nor denounce the circumstance which sendeth him into strange places
and unto the Gentile. Ye were not charged to save your flesh but to
save your souls. And whosoever saveth his soul hath Christ in his
bosom and Christ on his tongue; wherefore the Redeemer is not dead and
buried, nor even passed from among you, but living and preaching
numerously, by many tongues. Doubt not ye shall have your Gethsemane
and your Calvary, yet likewise ye shall arise from the dead and enter
into Paradise. The oppressor shall persecute, the rod hang over you,
the Cross be set up, but though ye go forth unweaponed ye shall level
walls and throw down tyrants by the power of love; ye shall conduct
peace and mercy through the flights ye make from oppression, and Life
everlasting shall begin where your hour is accomplished and ye die.
"If there be any among you who are timid in flesh that say in their
souls, 'Let us find a secure place and live secretly and in godliness
away from the abominations of the wicked,' verily I say unto such, if
the world were precious enough unto the Son of God that He suffered
death to save it, it is not too evil for the habitation of them who
were in sin and ransomed by His sacrifice.
"If there be those among you given to wrath and vengeance who shall
say, 'Let us fall upon the oppressor and put him to death,' verily I
say unto such if the Son of God, who was despised and rejected of men,
who raised the dead and cleansed lepers, directed not His powers to
punishment and havoc, how shall ye, who are but lately lifted out of
sin and damnation?
"Ye are ministers of peace and love and humility. Go forth and testify
to these things in His name, and I who stand before you, elected of Him
whom ye follow to speak His word, I say unto you that if ye testify
faithfully, no persecutor shall triumph over you, no power shall
overthrow you, no evil shall prevail against your souls!"
This was not the spirit Marsyas would select to aid him in his
punishment of Saul; it was an alien doctrine opposed to nature; but he
did not doubt the preacher's sincerity. His utterances were not
strange to the ears that had listened with such fear to Stephen. But
it seemed that one in the assembly was not satisfied.
"Yet the saints perish by the persecutor," the man spoke. "Behold
Stephen is martyred already in Jesus' name."
Marsyas' eyes sought out the speaker; he was one of the unconvinced who
sat apart and had become perplexed.
"O my brother, when was it said unto thee by the teachers of Christ
that death is the end? I saw Christ on the cross; on the third day I
saw Him living in the council of the apostles. The powers of evil
pursued Him only to the tomb; there began the dominion of God, and He
ascended unto Heaven and to eternal life. Believest thou this? Thy
face sayeth me 'yea'; is it not written that they who believe on Him
shall share each and all of His blessings? Wherefore, though Stephen
died, he liveth triumphant over his enemies; so shall ye, who are
faithful unto the end."
"But--but," the man objected, troubled, "is the Church to perish, thus,
one by one? If we die in this generation, who shall gather the harvest
of the Lord?"
"'Whoso would save his life shall lose it,' said the Master. Is it
part of faith to fear that evil will triumph? Wilt thou hold off Life
eternal that thou mayest bide a little longer in such insecurity as
this life? And I tell thee that the fear of the adversary is awakened,
and the strength of his forces is aroused. We measure by his rage
against the elect his fear of Christ prevailing. No man leadeth forth
an army with banners against that which is weak and which he fears not.
Jesus, on whom thou believest, said, 'I have overcome the world.' Know
then that the Church can not perish; that the persecutor rageth
futilely; that the oppressor fighteth against the Lord. Doubt no
longer, lest thy doubt become a fear that an enemy shall overthrow God!"
The young man who sat by the woman at Marsyas' side spoke next.
"I am submissive, Rabbi; yet, how far shall we fly? I am the
bridegroom of Cana at whose marriage the Lamb was. When He changed
water into wine He turned my heart into wondering, and from wondering
into belief. But the sentence of wandering hath driven me out of Cana,
out of Galilee, out of Judea into Syria. How far shall we flee, Rabbi?"
"We, too, are driven," many broke in at once. "Few here are citizens
of Ptolemais; we have left our homes and have fled far. How long must
we go on?"
"As far as God's creatures fare; as far as the Word hath not
penetrated," was the answer.
The faces of many fell, tears stood in the eyes of others, and still
others murmured wearily. The sun-browned pilgrim who had prayed and
who had leaned with a shoulder and his head against the wall, while the
teacher spoke, raised himself.
"My heart goeth out in pity for you," he said sorrowfully. "Behind you
the consuming fire, before you the overwhelming sea. I am newly come
from Jerusalem; I know what awaits you if ye fly not. Even the Gentile
can not be worse than he who breathes out threatenings and slaughter
against you, in the name of the Law. Fare forth; the world can not be
worse; it may be kindlier."
Marsyas observed this man; in him was more promising material for his
work than in the preacher. But the preacher looked over the
congregation, by this time bowed and filled with distress.
"It is your Gethsemane," he said, turning the pilgrim's declaration
into comfort, "but He sleepeth not while ye pray."
Marsyas looked over the congregation and saw here and there strong
faces and bold, to whom the ordinance of submission must have been a
bitter ordinance. He arose.
"I behold that this is a council, in which men may speak," he said. "I
take unto myself the privilege, as one akin to you in suffering if not
in faith."
His voice commanded by its Essenic calmness. Every eye turned toward
him. They saw the habiliments of a slave covering the stature and
dignity of a doctor of Laws. The preacher looked interested, and the
congregation stirred toward the young man.
"By the words of your teacher," he continued, "I see that ye are
summoned here to be banished. I see your reluctance; I know your
sorrow, for I, too, have been driven on, even by your enemy."
"Who art thou, young friend?" the preacher asked.
"I am an Essene."
"An Essene!" many repeated, stirred into wonder at knowledge of the new
apostleship.
"As was John the Baptist!" one declared.
"Nay, then;" a voice rose out of the comment, "thou shalt be kin to us
in faith so thou acceptest Jesus of Nazareth."
"Let us lay aside the discussion of doctrine, in which we can not
agree," the young man went on, "and unite in our cause against Saul of
Tarsus."
The kindly eyes of the preacher became paternal as he gazed at the
hardness growing in the young man's face.
"Our cause," he said gently, "is not Saul of Tarsus, but Jesus Christ."
"Are ye sincere in your boast that ye will not defend yourselves?"
Marsyas demanded.
"What need, young brother? God defends us."
"Well enough; but what of the persecutor?"
"God will overtake him."
"When? When he hath desolated Israel, stained the holy judgment hall
with tortured perjury, slandered the Jews before the world as slayers
of the innocent? Your talk is all of the life hereafter; I, too,
expect to live again; yet I am here to come and go at God's will, not
Saul's! Even ye, in all your infatuation, will not call Saul's work
God's work! I will not be driven and desolated by Abaddon!"
He did not wait for the preacher, who seemed prepared to speak.
"I was the friend of Stephen, of whom ye spoke with love to-night.
Saul consented unto his death in spite of my prayers for him, and
before I could save him. When I rebuked Saul for his bloody zeal he
denounced me as an apostate and set the Shoterim upon me so that I am
obliged to flee for my life. For mine own wrongs I do not care, but
the blood of Stephen cries out to me, the spectacle of his death rises
to me in my dreams, and the infamy of it fills my hours with anguish.
Ye say he was one of your saints, a martyr in the name of your Prophet,
a teacher and a power in your church. Ye claim that ye loved him. Yet
ye make timid preparation to flee before the oppressor who brought him
low, and lift no hand to avenge his death! Are ye men? Have ye loves
and hearts? Do ye miss him--"
The pilgrim pressed his palms together and looked at the young man with
passionate grief in his eyes. Marsyas turned his words to him.
"Was ever his touch laid upon you, warm with life and tender with good
will? Did ever his eyes bless you with their light? Can ye take it
idly that his hands grasp the dust and the tomb hath hidden his smile?"
The pilgrim covered his face with his hands.
"These be things that philosophy can not return to me!" Marsyas drove
on. "I can not pray Stephen back to my side; I can not hope till his
voice returns to my ear; I can not flee till I find him! And by the
holy and the pure who have gone down into the grave before him, I know
that ye can not! Is it no matter to you that his memory is held in
scorn? Are ye not stabbed with doubts that he died in vain--even ye
who believe thus firmly that he was right? And I, being a Jew and an
upholder of the Law, can I be content, knowing he was cut off in
heresy?"
The congregation began to move as he went on; men rose from sitting to
their knees, as if prepared to spring to their feet. The preacher
circled the room with a glance, but the eyes of the people were upon
the young man.
"Your Prophet and my Stephen! And ye fly! There are certain of you
that are strong men, and Stephen was as delicate as a child. There is
blood and temper and strength and numbers of you, but Stephen went
forth alone--and died! Where were ye? What of yourselves, now? Are
ye afraid of the weakling Pharisee?"
There was a low murmur and men sprang to their feet, with flashing eyes
and clenched hands. The pilgrim flung up his head and drew in his
breath till it hissed over his bared teeth. Eleazar stood up by the
young Essene and gazed straight at the preacher, as if holding himself
in check until the leader declared himself. But the preacher put up
his hands and hurried into the center of the building.
"Peace, children!" he said kindly but firmly. His hands lifted higher
as the stature of his authority seemed to tower over the people. In
the sudden silence those that had stood up sank down again, the pilgrim
lowered his head and only Marsyas and the rabbi at his side seemed to
resist the quieting influence of the pastor. The extended palms
dropped and the Nazarene looked at the young Essene.
"Vengeance is mine and I will repay, saith the Lord. Eye for an eye
and tooth for a tooth is of the old Law and is passed away!"
"There, O strange pastor of a human flock, our ways part. I am a Jew,
thou a Nazarene--our laws differ. Yet if, as ye preach, the God of
Moses is also the God of your Prophet, ye are delivered sentences and
punishments for evil-doing. Wherefore, if ye evade them, ye evade a
divine command!"
"We do not punish; we correct. Punishment is God's portion."
"Are ye not instruments?" the young man persisted.
The preacher did not answer at once; his eyes searched Marsyas' face
for some expression by which he might select his line of argument.
"Bethink thee, young brother," he said finally. "How would Stephen
answer thee in this?"
Marsyas' demanding eyes wavered and fell; his lips parted and closed
again; he frowned.
"Whom then wouldst thou please in this vengeance? Not Stephen! Then
wilt thou comfort thyself with bloody work, while the tomb stands
between thee and Stephen's restraining hands?"
Marsyas threw up his head defiantly, shaking off the influence of the
argument.
"Do ye in all truth follow the doctrine that bids you suffer without
requital?" he demanded, even while feeling that his logic was impotent.
"God directs all things; if it be His will that we shall suffer or
escape, God's will be done!"
"It is cowardly!" Marsyas declared with flashing eyes.
The preacher came closer. "I believe that thou art determined and
sincere. Suppose Saul fell into thy hands, as an evil-doer, and the
Law was ready for his blood, and God bade thee withhold thy hand.
Would it be easy?"
"No, by my soul!"
"Look then at me and answer. Is it easy for me, who hath suffered
exactly thy sorrows, to stand still and wait on God?"
Marsyas looked at the preacher. He was tall, spare and old, his hair
and his beard were so white that they shone in the torch-light, and his
face was so thin and colorless that he seemed already to have put off
the flesh. But his eyes glowed with fire and youth. Here of a surety
was no weakness to call into account.
"No," he answered again.
"Then, O my son, which of us is truly subject to the Lord?"
"Ye crucify yourselves to an unnatural doctrine! It is not human to
bow to it!"
"When thou canst do as we strive to do, my son, thou shall know that it
is divine."
Marsyas looked at Eleazar, and the rabbi, who had his eyes fastened on
the preacher, spoke for the first time.
"That is sweet humility, while ye are oppressed," he said, in a voice
almost prophetic. "But will ye remember it, when ye come into power?"
Power! Had any of that congregation a hope for power? The word
startled them. They looked at the rabbi's garments, clothing a huge
frame, the strength of the Law typified, and wondered at his words.
Even the preacher had no ready answer. The intimation of the Nazarenes
in power on the lips of an expounder of the Law was not conducive to
instant comment.
"So ye were in the Jews' place, what would ye do?" he asked again.
Marsyas looked at the rabbi in surprise, but meanwhile the preacher
answered.
"Christ's doctrine suffereth no change for rank or power."
"Watch; forget it not!" Eleazar turned to Marsyas. "I have seen, my
brother," he said. "This is not the method. Let us wait; our time
will come."
Contented to go, Marsyas turned with the rabbi and together they passed
through the gathering to the door. But before they went out, Marsyas
spoke again to the silent congregation.
"Rest ye," he said, "we are not informers." They went forth.