The little town of Bethany was situated in a narrow valley at the foot
of the Mount of Olives. There was a large house there belonging to a
man who had been ill for many years; formerly he had been filled with
despair, but since he had become an adherent of the Nazarene, he was
resigned and cheerful. His incurable disease became almost a blessing,
for it destroyed all disquieting worldly desires and hopes, and also
all fears. In peaceful seclusion he gave up his heart to the Kingdom
of God. When he sat in his garden and looked out over the quiet
working of Nature, he hardly remembered that he was ill. He was so
entirely imbued with the happiness of life in the Kingdom of Heaven,
and his prayers were full of gratitude that death could not destroy
such a life, since it was immortal, and would be carried into eternity
with the immortal soul.
Two of the inmates of his house were at one with him in this.
Magdalen, his wife's sister, the fallen woman of Magdala, lived with
them since she had been obliged to part from the Master. Now she heard
with a fearful joy that Jesus was in Jerusalem. Her brother, Lazarus,
was in still greater excitement about it. The youth declared that the
Master had accomplished the greatest thing of all in regard to him. He
could not talk about it enough, and was irritated if they did not
receive his tale as the very newest thing, although it had happened
months before, when Jesus had been in the wilderness of Judaea. They
had marvelled at the event beyond all measure, but when the great
miracle came to be related every day, it got commonplace. "Just let
one of you experience what dying is like," Lazarus would often exclaim,
interrupting a lively conversation. "When you lie there and turn cold,
they put on a shroud, tie a kerchief round your head, stretch you out
on a board, and lament that you are dead. You are dead, but it isn't
quite what you thought. You know about it; you are there when they put
you into the sack, carry you to the grave, and rend their garments for
grief. You are there when your body is buried in the damp, everlasting
darkness, and begins to mingle with the earth. Your poor soul gathers
itself together to utter a cry for help, but your breast is dead, your
throat is dead. And in this agony of death, which never ceases, a man
comes by, lays his hand on your head, and says, 'Lazarus, get up!' and
your pulse begins to beat, and your limbs grow warm again, and you get
up and live! And live! Do you know what it means--live?"
Then Magdalen would go to her brother and calm him, telling him that it
was a great thing to awake a dead body to life, but a still greater
thing to bring a dead soul to life!
Now this family of Bethany had sent to Jerusalem and invited the Master
to go to their house with two of His travelling companions in order
that He might repose Himself after His long wanderings in homelike
security. Jesus thought it was time to leave the city for a little,
and accepted the invitation. His disciples were sorry. They each
desired some hospitable house in order that after so long a time of
hardship they might once again be glad with the Master; they thought
that was only reasonable, considering His victory. When the disciples
found that only two of them could go with Him, they were distressed,
for all had been obliged to share the hard times with Him.
"Have you ever lacked anything with Me?" He asked. "Have you suffered
want?"
"No, Lord, never!" For by His side they had never felt want. The
Master rejoiced over their disinterestedness, and the ten decided that
the youngest and the oldest should go with Him, as was only fair. So
John and Simon Peter were chosen. The rest found lodging with citizens
of the town. Joseph of Arimathea, who had property round Jerusalem,
received some of the disciples. There was the rich Simeon, who had
once ridden out into the wilderness to gain eternal life, and had
nearly lost his mortal life. Since then he had changed his opinion
about the value of great possessions; at least, he let the needy share
them, and he received some of the disciples. James had business in
Bethpage, on the farther slope of the Mount of Olives, where he had
hired the ass. He took Andrew with him. The animal had been sent
back, but had not yet been paid for. The little old man came to meet
them in most friendly fashion. He was proud beyond everything that his
noble brown ass had had so great an honour. He had himself been in the
city, and had heard how the Prophet reproved the Pharisees in the
Temple. That was the finest day of his life. If the Master would only
come and heal his wife of her rheumatism, he would be converted.
That was a good thing, said James, because they hadn't any money with
which to pay him. The little old man whistled in surprise. He saw now
that people were right when they set no store by men of Galilee.
In order to save their countrymen's honour, they offered to work in the
garden until they had fully paid the debt. So both the disciples set
to digging, and thought, perhaps, of the parable of the labourers in
the vineyard. Then they discussed the events in Jerusalem, and how
they would rather be ministers of the Messiah in the golden palace than
doing such hard work here.
When Jesus with John and Peter reached Bethany, their host Amon had
himself pushed in his wheeled chair to meet them, and called to his
wife, Martha, to make haste and come and pay her respects to the
guests. She had, she said, no time for that; she had things to look
after, in the parlour, the dining-room, everywhere, to see that all was
in order, if need be to lend a helping hand herself. The children of
the servants were playing about in the courtyard, and a contented,
homelike feeling pervaded everything. Suddenly the slender form of
Lazarus hurried up, and lay down at the Master's feet. He recognised
him, and said: "Lazarus, you have your life in order to stand upright."
The youth got up. And then, hesitating and half afraid, Magdalen
approached. He greeted her in silence.
She, too, said nothing. But when they were at table she knelt before
Him, and anointed His feet. She dried them with her hair and wept.
The pleasant odour of the oil filled the room, and Peter whispered to
his neighbour: "Such ointment must cost a mint of money! If she had
given it to the poor, He would have been better pleased."
Jesus heard what he said. "What is wrong, Peter? She is kind to Me so
long as I am here. When I'm no longer with you, you'll still have the
poor. She has shown Me a mark of love that will never be forgotten."
Peter was ashamed, and said softly to his neighbours: "He is right. It
often happens that people leave a good deed undone, and say, 'We'll
give something, therefore, to the poor.' That's what they say, but
they do neither one nor the other. He is right."
They ate and drank amid the pleasant, homely surroundings, and were
very cheerful. Magdalen wanted to sit quite at the lower end of the
table, but the Master desired her to sit on His right hand. Her
enthusiastic glance hung on His face, and it seemed as if she drank
from His mouth every word which He spoke. Jesus was indefatigable in
narrating legends and parables, every one of which contained some great
thought. If He dealt harshly with human foolishness before the people,
He treated it as earnestly now, but with a warm sympathy that went to
the hearts of all His hearers. The invalid host was delighted, and
signed to his wife to listen to the Master's words. But Martha was
continually occupied in looking after the various courses and dishes,
in seeing that everything was as perfect as possible, and in serving
her guests. She was vexed with her sister Magdalen who sat there by
His side, and troubled herself about nothing. When she again brought
in a dish, Jesus put His hand gently on her arm, and said; "Martha, how
busy you are. Do leave off for a little, and come and sit down. We've
had more than enough with all these dainties, and you bring us still
more. Copy your sister; she has chosen the better part--spiritual food
instead of bodily."
So Martha sat down, and she too watched His mouth, but less for the
sake of what He said than to see how He liked the food. He observed
this, and said with a smile, "Everyone is kind in his own way." And He
continued to reveal in attractive fashion the secrets of the Kingdom of
Heaven. But Martha always interrupted Him with remarks on the dishes,
or with orders to the servants, until Jesus became almost annoyed, and
said sharply: "Know you not that I will give you food? The soul is the
one thing needful."
Then they also spoke of the day's proceedings, and Amon congratulated
Him prettily on the great victory at Jerusalem.
"Do you call that a victory?" asked Jesus. "Amon, do you know men so
little? They see in Me the Messiah King who will conquer the Empire
to-morrow. They, blind creatures, they have no idea of _My_ Kingdom.
They are pleased with words that destroy, they do not want to hear
words that build up. It's an empty-headed people that can only be
roused by need and oppression. But they will be aroused."
After dinner He lay down on cushions, the softest that Martha could
find in the house. Young John's curly head lay on His breast, Magdalen
sat at His feet. Peter lay near by on a carpet; a little farther off
sat Amon in his wheeled chair, with Martha stroking his white hair.
John was particularly happy to-day. He had never seen the Master so
calm and gentle. Yet something depressed the disciple. At the above
remark about the people he observed: "Master, if they knew how deeply
you loved them."
"They ought to know it."
"But they cannot know it from the way in which you speak to them."
"The way in which I speak to them?" said Jesus, and stroked the
disciple's soft hair. "That is just My John all over. He cannot
understand that you do not stroke buffaloes with peacocks' feathers.
I'm too hard on these hypocrites, these obdurate, indifferent men, am
I? When I disappoint those who would extract daily profit from Me in
the form of miracles, when I lay bare the carefully-concealed thoughts
of their hearts, then I am hard. And when I shatter their childish
love of the world, their craving for vanities, then I am hard. And
when they strut about with their condemnations and their
hard-heartedness, trampling the weak underfoot out of greed and malice,
haughty as the heathens who bring human sacrifices to their gods, I
would fain chastise them with a lash of scorpions. But when the
forsaken come to Me, and penitent sinners trustfully seek refuge with
Me, then, John, I am not hard."
The voices of children playing in the courtyard sounded through the
open windows. Jesus turned to His hostess and said: "Martha! You have
excellently entertained Me in your house. Will you give Me yet another
treat?"
"What is it, Master? I would leave no wish of yours ungratified."
"The little ones--let them come in."
"Ah! my poor boy will cry his eyes out that he wasn't here to-day.
Dear lad, he's in Jerusalem."
"God be his guard! Let those who are playing in the courtyard come up."
They came shyly in at the door, two dark little girls, and a fair boy,
who carried a carved wood camel in his hand. When Jesus spread out His
arms, they went to Him, and were soon at home, holding up their little
red mouths, in which He put fruit from the table. Peter, who would
have liked to sleep a little, was not particularly pleased with the
little guests, but was glad that the Master petted them and joked with
them.
Then Jesus said to the boy: "Benjamin, mount your camel, ride to that
man over there, and ask him why he is so silent."
Peter accepted the invitation to join in the conversation, but he was
not very happy in what he said. "Master," he said hesitatingly, "what
I have to say is scarcely suited to this pleasant day."
Such remarks, said Martha humorously, were of the right sort to add to
the cheerfulness of the company. Peter was not the man to keep a
secret long. Turning to the Master, he said: "Early to-day, in the
city, I heard some people talking. They're always doing you some
injustice."
"What were they saying, Peter?"
"They said that the Prophet was a man of fair words, but that He did
nothing. He never once healed the sick who came to Him from great
distances."
"They say that?"
"Yes, sir, that's the kind of thing they say."
Jesus raised His head, and looked cheerfully round the circle. While
He rocked one of the little girls on His knee, He said calmly: "So they
say I only talk and do nothing. In their sense they are right. I
don't pray, they mean, because they don't see Me do it. I don't fast,
because we can't eat less than a little, except when we sit at a
luxurious table like Martha's. I don't give alms because My purse is
empty. What good do I do, then? I don't work, because in their eyes
My work doesn't count. I don't work miracles on their bodies, because
I am come to heal their souls. Amon, say, would you exchange the peace
of your heart for sound legs?"
"Lord!" exclaimed Amon vivaciously, "if they say you do nothing good,
just let them come to the house of old Amon at Bethany. You came under
my roof, and my soul was healed."
"And you brought me resurrection and life," shouted Lazarus
passionately from the other end of the room.
"And me, more than that," said Magdalen, looking up at Him with moist
eyes. And then she bent down and kissed His feet.
And Peter exclaimed: "I was a mere worm, and He made me a man. He does
more than all the Rabbis and physicians and generals put together."
Then John turned to him and asked: "Brother, why didn't you talk like
that to the people in Jerusalem? Were you afraid of them?"
"Is yon man a coward?" asked the boy, pointing with his hand to Peter.
"Then he'll help us to play lion and sheep in the courtyard!"
Jesus shook His head over such talk, and said: "No, My Peter is not a
coward, but he is still somewhat unstable for a rock. No one who, at
his age, can train himself for the Kingdom of God could be a weakling."
Martha, who had gone out to look after the supper, called into the room
that the children's mother wanted them to go to her to read the
Haggadah.
The little ones pulled long faces. "To read the Haggadah!" murmured
the boy in a tone far too contemptuous of the holy Passover book.
"Don't you like to read about God, my child?" asked Jesus.
"No," replied the boy crossly.
John pinched his red cheek. "Naughty boy! Good boys always like to
hear about God."
"But not always to read about Him!" said the little one. "The Haggadah
tires me to death."
Then said Jesus: "He is of the unhappy ones for whom God is spoiled by
the mere letter of the Word. Would you rather stay with Me, children,
than go and read the Haggadah?"
"Yes, yes, we'll stay with you." And all three hung round His neck.
And Martha sought the mother and told her: "They are reading the
Haggadah with six arms."