AFTER THE STORM
The fury of the storm rapidly diminished. The great rushing tide of men,
women, and children soon thinned out and grew sluggish. The darkness
lifted, and the lightning‐flashes and peals of thunder died away, but the
great worshipful throng was demoralized and scattered.
The panic began when some marble columns in the tier beyond the court of
Israel had been struck by lightning, and shattered and thrown down,
wounding several priests, who were washing their hands in the great brazen
Laver. Such was the starting‐point of the stampede which had been so
disastrous and widespread.
Rebecca was uninjured, and rapidly recovered from the prevailing fright
and excitement. Except for the anxiety regarding the fate of her father,
she was soon quite herself. She turned to her unknown deliverer to render
him thanks.
“The God of Israel reward thee, O son of Judah! Thy gracious ministry was
my salvation. Receive the thanks of the daughter of Benoni. My father will
joyfully bless thee, and also reward thy goodness if thou wilt accept some
favor.”
“Fair maid of the house of Benoni! the Lord hath already rewarded me
abundantly, for I have much joy in thy deliverance.”
The pallor and weakness which marked her face gradually passed away, and
gave place to a look of interest and curiosity.
“It all seems like a confused dream. I remember that my father lifted me
to his shoulders to bear me out of the mad throng, and I knew nothing
further until I found myself here.”
“He delivered thee into my hands, by his own words, and now, behold we
will seek him.”
Rebecca was now able to walk, and they passed out through the Beautiful
Gate in quest of Benoni. There were groups of people everywhere; many
drenched by the great storm, some faint or wounded, and a few of the more
helpless were being borne away by friends, or keepers of the Temple
courts. But the father of Rebecca was nowhere to be found.
“Peradventure he hath been bruised or faint, and taken to the inn of Almon
where we abide. I will return thither. But I am a stranger in the Holy
City. May I still presume upon thy favor in that thou wouldst show me the
way?”
The sky had already cleared, the air was sweet and fresh, and the sun
dispensing his parting beams before sinking below the western horizon.
“Behold what a great calm follows the tempest,” said Rebecca. “The Holy
City seems purified.”
“A fitting symbol of the storms and waves that rage in the soul of man,”
said Serenus. “They chasten, and then in due time bring forth a harvest of
peace.”
“Must peace of soul come only as the result of tempest?”
“I say not that; but yet life is like the ebb and flow of the tides. If
stillness were never broken up, peradventure there would be stagnation. It
is the fury of the storm that gives tranquillity its charm.”
“Should we, then, seek for waves to buffet us?”
“Nay; but when they come unsought, we should be lifted by them rather than
submerged.”
“Peradventure one be not able?”
“That must not be conceded even to ourselves.”
“What is the secret of overcoming?”
“Keep a well‐ordered mind, for our life is what our thoughts make it. Look
beneath the surface of things. When the billows of the sea are angry, and
foam and dash themselves, there is serenity in their unseen deeps.”
“Thou must account thyself a philosopher as well as a son of Israel.”
“Daughter of Benoni! I am a Jew; but the Chosen People are not the sole
possessors of wisdom. It aboundeth through all the earth, but only they
who seek it for its own sake taste of its fulness.”
They passed out through the west Temple gate of the outer court, and down
the long flight of steps along the slope of Mount Moriah. The steep
descent caused Rebecca again to grow dizzy from faintness, and she leaned
upon Serenus for support. He put his arm about her to save her from
falling, and thus they made their way as rapidly as possible toward the
Sheepmarket. As they entered a narrow street, they met, face to face, a
young woman moving with a rapid step in the opposite direction. She gave
Serenus a slight salutation, and quickly passed by. He was still
supporting Rebecca, and was startled at the recognition. It was Amabel.
Arriving at the inn, Rebecca invited Serenus to enter, and receive the
thanks of her friends. But he made some plea of haste, and turned to
depart, only saying,—
“Peace abide with thee!”
She returned the salutation, and then, remembering that he had not made
himself known, except as a son of Israel, inquired,—
“Who art thou, that we may send thee greeting for thy great favor?”
“I am a friend of Saulus;” and before her knock was answered, he was out
of sight.
A few days after, late in the afternoon, a little group were holding
earnest converse in the court of the Sheepmarket inn. Abdiel, the
venerable Rabbi of Tarsus, bewailed the changes which had come to pass in
the Holy City since his long sojourn there many years before.
“Behold,” he exclaimed bitterly, “false prophets and teachers have arisen,
and boldly proclaim their blasphemous doctrines in the synagogues, yea, in
the very courts of the Temple on the Holy Hill. The streams which should
flow out in pure volume to refresh and confirm the children of the
Dispersion are becoming poisoned at the fountain‐head.”
“It is even as thou sayest, O venerable Abdiel!” replied Almon. “We may
almost perceive heresy and false doctrine in the very air about us! It
cometh mainly from the followers of an impostor named Jesus of Nazareth,
who was crucified not long ago between two thieves. His disciples have
waxed yet more bold in their teachings; and some of them set at naught the
Holy Place itself, while others continue in the ordinances of the Chosen
People, but lightly esteem them.”
“What manner of people are they? and what is their doctrine?”
“Saulus is more learned in these matters, and can more perfectly inform
thee.”
“I have heard from common report, since coming from Tarsus, somewhat of
the Galilean and his doings. He was without reputation or learning, but by
certain charms and magical works and healings was able to deceive many. He
even made pretence to the Messiahship, boasted that he could destroy the
Temple in three days, and called himself the King of the Jews.”
“As he was no king, and did nothing to restore the kingdom and drive out
the Roman, peradventure he was mad, or possessed of an evil spirit,” said
Abdiel.
“That matters not, O venerable Rabbi! so long as his followers are
multiplied and have waxed bold. They must be driven out or destroyed,
otherwise great harm will befall the church of our fathers. It hath come
to my ears, O Almon! that my former enemy, the false teacher Serenus, hath
joined himself to these blasphemers, and that the Rabban hath put him away
from the Assembly. It behooveth us to be vigilant, else this heresy may
spread even to the overthrow of our nation and people. I shall counsel
with the High Priest on the morrow, and take measures to rid the Holy City
of these deceivers who are persuading the common people with their vain
pretensions.”
“Thou speakest with wisdom and boldness,” said Almon; “yet it behooveth
thee to proceed with caution and secrecy, for this new doctrine hath taken
a strong hold upon the ignorant and unlearned. I have heard of one
Stephanos, who is vehement for the strange heresy. He is young and
learned, and speaketh both in the Hebrew and Greek tongues.”
“It hath been told me, O Almon! how he stirreth up the people by his
eloquence, and of his disputations, whereby he may gain a great following.
Peradventure on the morrow he may be at the synagogue of the Cyrenians, as
hath been wont. I will go and confront this calumniator of our Holy Law.”
“The God of Israel be with thee!” said Abdiel. “Thou art strong and
courageous in the defence of our doctrine.”
Since the return of Saulus he had been earnestly occupied in the formation
of plans for the uprooting of false doctrine, and the punishment of the
violators of the ceremonial law. His zeal in this cause was only
alternated and tempered by his periods of depression and uncertainty as to
the affection of Cassia. His strength as a champion of the traditions of
the elders was only equalled by the power of his love for her, but the
former inspired strength and the latter weakness. He could face unnumbered
heretics without a fear, but was vanquished by the sight of the
innkeeper’s daughter. Day after day had swiftly passed since his return
from Tarsus, but still he was utterly in the dark as to her real feelings.
She was friendly, and took a deep interest in all his plans for crushing
the traitors in the camp of Israel, but more he could not clearly divine.
He was holden from making any allusion to the involuntary eavesdropping
upon the occasion of his arrival; and what he had heard on the part of
little Cassia had been so indefinite that he lived in a condition of
mingled hope, fear, and uncertainty. Barnabas was still at the
Sheepmarket, but there was nothing in his actions to aid in the solution
of the riddle. Saulus loved with all the intensity of his fiery nature;
and he even persuaded himself that if Cassia loved Barnabas, he could do
nothing but flee the Holy City, and so drifted along, not daring to find
out the truth. The suspense could not much longer be borne.
As he retired to his chamber after the conversation, he sat down to
commune with himself, and decide upon some course of action. His was no
ordinary affection. The world without little Cassia would be a desert.
“Was I born for this strange, unfathomable emotion? O Eros! why hast thou
so enslaved me? I am hopelessly bound by thy fetters. But stay! unmindful
of the God of Israel, I have called upon the name of the strange deity of
the Greek. I crave forgiveness, O Jehovah! I would not blaspheme.
Perchance she hath crowded thee out of my heart, but my love is not born
of the senses. It is my spirit and life, O Cassia! that I would mingle
with thine.
“Wherever I look I behold thee! Thou art sunshine in the midst of
darkness! I dare not gaze upon thy features, or look into thine eyes; for
thy soul shines out and dazzles me. O little Cassia! I was here with thee
even while I was absent. As I neared Jerusalem, I dreamed of Paradise, but
was plunged into the valley of Gehenna! O Future, speak! and make known my
fate!”
* * * * * * * * * *
Love e’en through absence waxeth strong,
Doth souls when parted fast enchain:
Fruition, hasten! wait not long,
O heavenly Queen! begin thy reign.
The synagogue of the Cyrenians was in the valley of the Cheesemongers, a
little to the northeast of the Pool of Siloam. It was a simple, square
building, severely plain in the interior, with Scripture‐texts printed on
the whitewashed walls. The platform was enclosed by a rail, and occupied
at times by any male member of the synagogue who could read and expound
the Law. The seats were divided into two sections by a lattice‐work
partition, the men occupying one side, and the women the other. The
services were not confined to the Sabbath, but often held on other days of
the week, and sometimes in the evening.
It was a bright morning, and the synagogue was thronged with worshippers,
part being Sadducees; and there were also many Jews who were pilgrims from
the countries beyond Judea, having remained after the Feast of Pentecost.
It had been noised abroad that Stephanos, the eloquent young apostle of
the New Faith, would speak touching the interpretation of the Law and
prophets. Many knew of him; for he had healed some sick folk, and done
signs and wonders among the common people. Abdiel, Benoni, Saulus, and
Cassia convened with the congregation. The rulers of the synagogue had
consented that Stephanos should lead in the exposition of Scripture for
that day. Comely and youthful in appearance, he stepped upon the platform,
and searching among the rolls of the Law, brought out many passages, which
he read and briefly expounded as he passed along. He then re‐rolled them
carefully, and putting them away, addressed the assembly.
“Ye men of Israel! I count myself happy to proclaim to you the
Dispensation now beginning, which betokens the fulfilment of great
promises, not to the Jews only, but to all the nations of the earth. Ye
are the inheritors of the promise made to Abraham: ‘And in thy seed shall
all the families of the earth be blessed.’ And again, Moses indeed saith,
‘A prophet shall the Lord God raise up unto you from among your brethren,
like unto me; to him shall ye hearken in all things, whatsoever he shall
speak unto you.’ Daniel prophesieth of the setting up of ‘an everlasting
kingdom,’ and this kingdom is at hand. David asked to ‘find a habitation
for the God of Jacob.’ ‘But the Most High dwelleth not in houses made with
hands;’ as saith the prophet,—
‘The heaven is my throne,
And the earth the footstool of my feet.’
“And now, behold Jesus, the prophet of Nazareth, was he in whom ‘all the
families of the earth shall be blessed.’ Him have ye slain, and taken his
blood upon you and your children. He was the Son of God; and his kingdom,
being a spiritual kingdom, will know no end. Ye look for a king who will
restore your nation, but I warn you that no such sign may be given. The
kingdom of God filleth the whole earth. The Holy Spirit hath been poured
out, and dwelleth with all who seek its guidance. Jesus, after the flesh,
we know no more; but the same spirit that was in him aboundeth unto all
who will receive it. It yieldeth fruits of faith, hope, love, courage, and
patience, and is peaceful, longsuffering, and kind. It is an awakening of
a higher life and mind in men, be they Jew or Gentile. Behold it maketh
all things new, for its faith is fruitful and multiplieth all good. God
requireth not sacrifices, burnt‐offerings, and ceremonial oblations, but
would have a pure worship. Neither doth circumcision avail anything except
it be of the heart. Ye turn your backs upon the commandment of God while
holding fast to the tradition of men.”
“Behold the reviler of the Chosen People and our holy Law,” cried a voice,
interrupting. It was that of Saulus. “Men of Israel! I call ye to witness
the blasphemy which cometh out of his mouth. He hath spoken against the
Temple, and contemned the Holy of Holies which is the dwelling‐place of
the God of our fathers. He hath extolled the impostor, whom our people,
with righteous indignation, crucified in the company of thieves. He
profaneth and setteth at naught the circumcision. He revileth all the holy
ordinances which were commanded of our fathers, and would turn the Hebrew
worship upside down. I adjure ye, O men of Israel! that ye have account of
his words, and he shall answer before the Sanhedrin.”
There was great confusion in the assembly; and some were minded to bear
Stephanos away by force, and others that he be permitted to speak. He
raised his hand as a signal for silence, but the uproar continued. Finding
that the tumult could not be quelled, he left the synagogue under the
protection of a few apostles of the New Faith, declaring that he would
speak further of the coming Dispensation on the morrow.
On the evening of the same day, Saulus received the hearty greetings of
his friends at the Sheepmarket. Besides the families of Benoni and the
innkeeper, many of the former friends of Saulus, members of the _Urim_,
came to encourage, and if necessary support, their valiant leader in the
warfare he had in view. There was a secret gathering of the order the same
evening; and it was finally agreed that all would be at the Cyrenian
synagogue at the next meeting, and that Stephanos should not be allowed to
speak.
After parting with his comrades for the night, Saulus returned to the inn.
The evening was sultry; and he went to the house‐top to breathe the fresh
air, and cool the feverish emotions which stirred him. The moon was full;
and the City of David, with the mountains which encompass it, lay spread
out in clear outline and dreamy repose. Other persons were scattered in
different parts of the commodious resort upon the roof; but as Saulus was
in a troubled mood, he sought a retired corner where he could be alone.
Absorbing as had been the interest in his people, their religion, and the
impending conflict with Stephanos, his thoughts of these things were
speedily crowded out by the ever‐present image of little Cassia. She had
been enshrined in his thoughts so long that she had gained a rightful
residence, and he could not dismiss her if he would. She was the
unanswered question that stirred his heart, ever pressing for solution, so
that it kept his soul in a constant agitation. His ruling aspiration,
learning, and leadership in the church of his fathers, nay, his whole
character and life, seemed to be merged and transformed into a great
passionate longing for the ever‐present Ideal which was mirrored in his
soul. It was the charming but uncertain centre about which everything else
revolved.
The stillness of the starry heavens rebuked the madness of his wild
passion, and pleaded eloquently for serenity among the disorderly elements
of human attachment; but the appeal was unheeded. The pinions of his soul
beat and were wounded against the bars of the cage which hemmed him in. A
love so supreme was tyrannical, so that he almost wished to be freed, and
that it might all vanish from his breast. He felt oppressed, fevered, and
thoroughly enslaved. He leaned forward, bowed his head, and tightly
pressed his throbbing brow. A misty, strange vision possessed him.
Everything he beheld was being rent in twain. Some Force took hold of him,
and he felt as if his own soul were severed and divided. At length he saw
Cassia borne away through the air by some implacable Power, but her hands
were stretched out imploringly towards him. He unconsciously uttered a
deep groan, and the intensity of his agony aroused him. A quick, light
step, and some one was at his side. He lifted his head, and saw Cassia.
“Art thou ill, Saulus? Behold, I heard thee speak loudly as if in anguish,
and thou calledst my name.”
“O Cassia! I had fallen asleep, and dreamed of evil. Regard it not, I pray
thee!”
“But, Saulus, thou art pale and trembling. I will bring wine to refresh
thee.”
“Nay, I want for nothing but peace and rest, and they can come only of the
Future.”
“I would give thee comfort, Saulus. Behold thou didst call my name! Wast
thou dreaming of me?”
“Little Cassia! I had a vision that some fateful Power was bearing thee
away, and as we were separated thou didst stretch out thy hands
imploringly toward me. What meaneth the vision? Is it that we must part?”
“O Saulus! Knowest thou not that it was but an idle dream?”
“But thou only canst interpret it. Behold, O little Cassia, thy image
abideth in my soul. I love thee! Wouldst thou be parted from me? Does
another possess thy heart? Heaven grant that my fears have been idle
concerning thee!”
Cassia, with her pale face full in the moonlight, and her large eyes
bedewed like morning flowers, listened as he poured out his heart. At
length her lips moved.
“O Saulus! I love no one else! Throughout all thy absence thou hast been
dear to me! Thy image hath been enshrined in my soul! My dear Saulus”—but
her emotion was too powerful for further words.
She bent her bright young face upon his shoulder, and the feeling that her
love was now free to show itself was like the breaking of a great barrier.
Her voice was choked, and her heart beat wildly.
Saulus put his arm gently around her light form, and looking up, said,—
“Heaven bless the day when first I saw thee!”
The orb of night hath looked down upon many such scenes among the children
of men.
* * * * * * * * * *
There was a few moments of silence, for the overcharged souls were too
full for utterance. Happiness, sweet and irresistible, unchangeable and
forever, was assured. The shining firmament above their heads was now
echoing a great benediction, and the dread vision of an hour before had
dissolved and was forgotten. Nothing henceforth could rend such a
cementing of affection. They were one in love, motive, and religion; and
there was but a single dream of the future. At length the agitation with
which their souls had been surcharged was calmed, and a mystical and
indescribable repose was borne in upon them. Not merely their own hearts,
but the silvery sheen of the moonlight upon them, the still night air
around them, yea, the whole universe, spoke of love; and there was no
other language.
* * * * * * * * * *
Not until they were about to part did their thoughts descend to things
mundane, or even to the stirring religious events of the day, or those
which the morrow might bring forth.
“I had delight in thy valiant defence of our holy religion in the
synagogue,” said Cassia. “I watched thee through the lattice, and rejoiced
in every word thou didst utter. I am exalted to possess the love of one
who is so loyal to our people. Thou art strong to bring the false teachers
and all our enemies to naught.”
“I am doubly rewarded by thy favor in my chosen work.”
Changed was the world, religion, life, and the future to both at the close
of that evening upon the house‐top.