ON THE ROOF
The Day of Atonement had just passed and throughout Palestine great
preparations were being made for the Feast of Tabernacles, for the
harvest yield had been rich. Beginning with the fruits of the oleaster
and white mulberry in the early season, the ingathering of wheat, of
almonds and Beyrout honey, of apples and apricots and corn, of grapes
and of figs, of maize and of pomegranates and dates, of olives and
walnuts, had taken place as the months passed, and now from the
northern bounds of Galilee to the southern edge of Judea and from
Peraea to the sea, pilgrims were ready to set forth with their
first-fruits to be offered in the Temple. The vineyards and olive
orchards of Lazarus had yielded bountifully, and the laborers had been
accounted worthy of their hire and generously paid.
Martha had been busy putting in her store of corn and wine and now,
late on the last day before Atonement was counting her pig skin bottles
while Eli cleaned the ashes from the big earthenware oven. "Hath Mary
carried the last of her boughs to the housetop?" she questioned,
glancing into the court. And without waiting for an answer she
continued, "Such a pile of myrtle and olive and palm branches as hath
not before been used in an arbor hath Mary dragged up the steps, and
made into a bower. Anna doth build her bower in the garden, but not so
my sister who will have hers set where she can sit under its roof of
leaves and look out over the hills where there are a thousand booths.
And with her harp she sings. Listen--but Eli, there is a new skin
bottle missing!" and grave concern was in Martha's voice.
"My beloved is mine and I am his
Until the daybreak and the shadows flee away."
The words floated gently out on the air from the housetop. The voice
was that of Mary.
"Mary--Mary!" called Martha. "A new pig-skin bottle is missing." And
she started toward the stair steps. Hearing no answer she hurried
upward calling, "Mary, Mary, canst thou not hear?"
"Many waters can not quench love.
Neither can the floods drown it,
For love is strong as death--"
Mary sang, lightly touching the strings of her harp as she sat under
her bower of myrtle and palm.
"Mary, a new skin bottle is missing!" the housewife shouted in her
sister's ear, "and the foolishness thou singeth doth make thee deaf."
"'Foolishness,' thou sayest? Once, to me also the beauty of it were
hidden. But now--listen, Martha--
"I sat under his shade with great delight
And his fruit was sweet
He brought me into his banqueting house
And his banner over me was love.
Since the Master hath come it seemeth clear. Is not his wisdom a
banquet? Are not the wondrous beauty of his words and the tones of his
voice like sweetest fruit and is not his banner of love over us?"
"That shouldst thou know, for since the first time he crossed our
threshold thou hast made thy dwelling place at his feet. And his
banner of love methinks is large enough for all sorts of women to find
place under, even such kind as would pollute thee by a touch."
"What meanest thou, Martha?"
"No more than I did say. Did not Joel attend a feast where Jesus had
been bidden? And lo, as they sat at meat did not a woman make her way
to the feet of Jesus and there sit--aye, a woman of the town? And did
he not look into her eyes when she was spoken harshly to, even as he
looketh into thine? And did he not say comforting words to her and
excuse her, saying she had loved much--aye, loved even to her own
damnation?"
"For this alone could I love Jesus," Mary answered, "even this--he
pities womankind, nor thrusts them beyond the circle of his kindness
because they have been weak. Not of evil cometh woman's confidence,
which, betrayed, maketh her an outcast. But of goodness cometh
confidence."
"Thy speech soundeth well, but it stirreth not mercy in my heart for
she who sins against the Law."
"Hard and often cruel is the Law. Dost thou ever think, Martha, that
in the sight of God, to sin against love may be a greater sin than to
sin against the Law?"
"I know not the meaning of thy question. Dost think I am a Rabbi?"
"Thou hast a right to think on these things even if thou art not a
Rabbi."
"Nay--no right have I, for doth not the Law say a woman shall not be
taught?"
"What the Law denieth, the Master doth allow. Doth he not ever bid me
sit at his feet and learn?"
"Far be it from me," Martha said, "to say aught against the teachings
of the Master, yet a woman's place is not with Rabbis. To serve is her
lot."
"Methinks thou didst make this speech once to Jesus."
"Yea," Martha answered, "and thou needst not remind me he said thou
hadst chosen the better part. Yet have I noticed that neither thy
desire for wisdom, nor his for imparting it, did satisfy his belly.
Even as Lazarus and Joel, doth he take his meat and wine."
Voices in the garden announced the coming of Lazarus and Joel. Martha
leaned over the parapet and called, "A new skin bottle is missing."
"Hath it been stolen?" Joel asked.
"I greatly fear it hath," she replied anxiously.
When they came out upon the housetop, Lazarus said in a voice of
emotion, "Alas--woe be upon us. Yea, misery hath fallen to our lot.
Ah, that my soul should have lived to see this evil hour!"
"What hath happened?" Mary asked, resting the fingers that had been
lightly touching the harp strings. "Hath evil tidings?"
"Alas that this should have fallen upon this household. Canst thou,
Mary, sustain the grief of thy sister while I do break the evil
tidings?"
"Thou dost distress my soul!" Martha exclaimed. "Speak."
"A new skin bottle is missing," Lazarus solemnly declared.
After the laughter which followed, Martha said, "Thou, Lazarus, and thy
sister Mary would both starve had not our father saved his mites. Doth
not our own Solomon teach of the saving ways of the ant?"
"The words of the Galilean Rabbi mean more to Mary than the wisdom of
Solomon," Joel observed.
"The son of David," Mary answered, "was not his heart led of strange
women?"
"Cast not blame on him," Joel said. "Snared he was by the daughters of
Baal as was our father Adam tempted of Eve."
"Man is queer. Ever he doth boast of being strong, yet doth he ever
likewise boast of being led astray," reflected Mary.
"Joel," Lazarus asked, "how camest thou in the net of Martha? Didst
thou walk in, or wert thou dragged?"
"I did walk," Joel answered, laughing. "But Martha is not like other
women."
"And I did prepare the way for his walking, for much did my heart
desire a man with such beard," Martha confessed.
"Martha's heart hath been drawn out by a man's beard. What drew thy
heart when first thou set eyes on the Master?" and Lazarus turned to
Mary. "Thou shouldst have seen her, Joel," he continued. "Long had we
waited in the Temple for a sight of him and we had turned on to the
porch when Mary did look back. Then her feet stopped as if turned to
salt and in my ear she did whisper, with undue excitement, 'Look!
Look! Is that Jesus?' And I did look. And behold, the Master stood
with a small child in his arms. Then did Mary refuse to move forward,
but established her feet on the stones of the portico and with her
hands on my shoulders did she lean that she might see the man. And
while she did thus lean, he raised his eyes from the face of the child
in his arms and looked straight at Mary. Dost thou remember, Mary?"
"Some things the heart can not forget," Mary answered, resting her head
against her harp. "Never will I forget the Master as I saw him first.
Against a white marble pillar carved with lilies he stood. Behind him,
high against the line made by the portico roof, was the blue, blue
sky--bending as it touched the purple mountains and the green and
silver olive hills. Straight and strong he stood, and the little one
did look into his face as if there it saw its future. One of its hands
lay on Jesus' cheek and the other was close hidden in his large hand.
When the child stroked the face of the man and smiled, the man kissed
it, rested his hand upon its head a moment in blessing and gave it to
its mother. Will I forget? No, never!"
"And when he did put the child down," Lazarus said, "lo, he did turn
his face toward Mary. Twice had I asked him to be my guest, yet had
his heart not given assent. Now he came. Over Olivet we made our way
in the sunset, and on the brow of the hill we stopped to look back, and
Mary's tongue did lend her voice to praise the Temple."
"Yea, my brother. Was ever Jerusalem so holy as that night, or the
Temple so glorious? From the gathering shadows of the deep valleys the
hand of God had placed about it, rose Zion like a towering island of
gold and snow, rearing its shining lines against a burnished crimson
sky and raising its gleaming towers, crown above crown to the stars
above. Dost remember it, Lazarus?"
"Yea, and why not? Daily ever had I seen it, and even so, had the
Rabbi, though he did seem to get a new vision of it from thy speech and
face which did so please him."
"And, Lazarus, dost thou not hear it yet--the music of that night?
From the throats of a thousand Levites rang out the evening chant which
did move over the valley on noiseless wings and lose itself in the
gathering night, making all the earth seem blessed. Canst thou forget
it? Never shall I."
"Neither shall I forget," said Martha, "when thou didst reach home with
thy guest, Mary. Thou didst rush upon me with the news so that I upset
a pot of roast and burned my finger, and all for naught save that a
Galilean Rabbi was to sup with us. Yet did I know the man would win
the heart of Mary when she showed him to her lily bed, as surely as I
did know Zador Ben Amon had lost her by too much eating of bird
tongues, for I did hear him say--'Even Solomon in all his glory was not
arrayed like one of these.'"
"And dost thou yet think on his words of wisdom as we sat at meat:
Great be the mystery of life and great the hunger for Eternal Life."
"Now is Mary started again on speech-making which will begin with the
bones of our fathers and end with the hereafter. I care not for it.
Let us go, Joel, that we count the pig-skin bottles once again before
daylight has waned."
When Martha and Joel had gone, Lazarus made himself comfortable with
his feet against the parapet and turned to Mary.
"Once I sat with him upon the housetop," she said.
"Yea, Mary."
"The night was still and under the stars did stretch the far dim lines
of the Mountains of Moab. Of days long gone did he speak--days when
our fathers wandered in search of a Promised Land. When, from regions
far beyond, the spies of Israel crossed the Moabitish hills, they did
go to the home of an harlot. Wherefore they went hath not been handed
down. Mayhap to teach the woman the seventh commandment of Moses. But
they did go and she was an harlot. And when their hiding was
discovered she let them over the wall and they escaped. For this
kindness was her life spared, and when our fathers took the city,
Salmon did wed the harlot. Then did Salmon beget Boaz; Boaz begat
Obed; Obed begat Jesse; Jesse begat David. Thus was an harlot the
mother in Israel of whom was begotten Israel's kings. And is not the
blood of David in the veins of him we love--even Jesus? It is not
strange he hath ever words of kindness and a helping hand for women
downtrodden by the Law, for as the eye of God seeth good in what the
Law condemns, so doth the heart of the Master, and he hath courage to
speak."
"Yea. To be with him doth give new visions."
"And great love. Sometimes when I am with him or my mind traveleth far
paths with him, it seemeth as if God was pouring love into my heart
until it is full to overflowing. Again it seemeth I hunger for love."
"Thy heart need not hunger for love. Thou art much loved."
"I know thou dost love me much."
"All who know thee, love thee."
"The Master?"
"Yea, yea--he loveth thee."
"Ah, Lazarus, this is knowledge my heart doth hunger for. I know he
doth love me for he loveth all women. Martha sayeth he doth look upon
the women of the street even as in my eyes he looketh. Joel did tell
her so."
"Joel discerneth not the difference between sympathy in the eye of
pity, and hunger in the eye of such love as constraineth a man to take
one woman to himself apart from all the world even as the wild dove
taketh its mate to the hidden cleft of the solitary rock. The Master
hath no common love for thee."
"How knoweth thou this, my brother?"
"He is a man. I am a man. Hungry he sitteth at meat as a man. Weary
he resteth his limbs as a man. Merry he looketh upon the fair arms and
flying garments of dancers at the wedding as a man. Sad doth he grow,
and troubled, as a man. With a child held to his bosom the tenderness
of fatherhood sounds in his voice and with thee at his side the
mightiest love with which the Creator hath blessed man, toucheth his
soul. Did not the Creator so make man that it is not good for him to
be alone? None but the heathen teach contrary to the Law."
"Thy words are to my heart as a song of Zion to the captives in
Babylon. Yet would I have a sign from him."
"So do women always want signs," Lazarus laughed.
Mary rested her head against the myrtle twined support of the bower and
looked away to the sky of the setting sun--nor did Lazarus disturb her
thoughts by speaking. The hush of evening was brooding over the
distant valleys soon to be enfolded in the twilight and there was no
sound on the housetop when, a few moments later, Mary heard her name
spoken just behind her. A man had come quietly up the steps and
stopped where they opened on the roof. He wore a travel-stained
garment, carried a staff and held against one shoulder some branches of
flowering green. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock," he said, as
Mary and Lazarus with a glad cry, sprang up to greet him.