their husbands are unknown to me, my life having been spent on the hills with rams and ewes. As he said these words a smile came into his eyes. The first smile I have seen on his face for many years, Hazael said to himself, and Jesus continued: I have left my flock in charge of my serving boy, for I have come to tell the president that he must not be disappointed if many sheep are lost on the hills this year; robbers having hidden themselves again in the caves and fortified themselves among cliffs so difficult that to capture them soldiers must be let down in chests and baskets–a perilous undertaking this is, for the robbers are armed and determined upon revolt against Herod, who they say is not a Jew, and holds his power in Judea from the Romans. They are robbers inasmuch as they steal my sheep, but they are men who value their country higher than their lives. This I know, for I have conferred with them: and Jesus told the Essenes a story of an old man who lived in a cave with his family of seven, all of whom besought him to allow them to surrender to the Romans. Cowards, he said, under his breath, and made pact with them that they should come out of the cave one by one, which they did, and as they came he slew them and threw their bodies into the precipice, sons and daughters, and then he slew his wife, and after reproaching Herod with the meanness of his family, although he was then a king, he threw himself from the cliff’s edge.
It is a great story that thou tellest, Jesus, Manahem said, and it is well to hear that there are great souls still amongst us, as in the days of the Maccabees. However this may be, Saddoc interposed, these men in their strife against the Romans must look to our flocks for food. Three sheep were taken from me last night, Jesus answered, and the rest will go one by one, two by two, three by three, unless the revolt be quelled. And if the revolt be not quelled, Saddoc continued, the robbers will need all we have gotten, which is little; they may even need our cave here, and unless we join them they will cast us over the precipices. It was to ask: are we to take up arms against these robbers that I came hither, Jesus said. You will confer amongst yourselves, brethren, Hazael said, and will forgive me if I withdraw: Jesus would like to speak with me privately.
The Essenes bowed, and Hazael walked up the domed gallery with Jesus, and as soon as they disappeared at the other end Shallum began: your shepherd tells you the truth; the hills are once more infested with the remains of Theudas’ army. But who may Theudas be? one of the brethren asked. So you have not heard, Shallum cried, of Theudas, and you living here within a few miles of the track he followed with his army down to Jordan. Little news reaches us here, Saddoc said, and he asked Shallum to tell of Theudas, and Shallum related how Theudas had gathered a great following together in Jerusalem and provoked a great uprising of the people whom he called to follow him through the gates of the city, which they did, and over the hills as far as Jordan. The current of the river, he said, will stop, and the water rise up in a great wall as soon as I impose my hands. We have no knowledge if the waters would have obeyed his bidding, for before the waters had time to divide a Roman soldier struck off the prophet’s head and carried it to Jerusalem on a spear, where the sight of it was well received by the priests, for Theudas preached against the Temple, against the law, and the traditions as John and his disciples had done beforetimes. A great number, he continued, were slain by the Roman soldiers, and the rest dispersed, having hidden themselves in the caves, and become robbers and rebels. Nor was Theudas the last, he began again, there was another, an Egyptian, a prophet or a sorcerer of great repute, at whose bidding the people assembled when he announced that the walls of the city would fall as soon as he lifted up his hands. They must follow him through the breach into the desert to meet the day of judgment by the Dead Sea. And what befell this last prophet? Saddoc asked. He was pursued by the Roman soldiers, Eleakim cried, starting out of a sudden reverie. And was he taken prisoner? Manahem asked. No, for he threw a rope into the air and climbed out of sight, Eleakim answered. He must have been a great prophet or an angel more like, for a prophet could not climb up a rope thrown into the air, Caleb said. No, a prophet could not do that. But it is easier, Shaphan snorted, to climb up a rope thrown into the air than to return to a wife, if the flesh be always unwilling. At the words all eyes were turned to Shaphan, who seemed to have recovered his composure. It is a woeful thing to be wedded, he cried. But why didst thou accept a wife? Manahem asked. Why were ye not guided by our counsels? We hoped, Shaphan said, to bring saints into the world and we know not yet that robbers may not be the fruit of our wives’ wombs. But if the flesh was always unwilling, Manahem answered, thou hast naught to fear. It would be better, Shallum interrupted, to turn us adrift on the hills than that we should return to the lake where all is disorder now. Ye are not many here, Eleakim said, to defend yourselves against robbers, and we have hands that can draw swords. Our president alone can say if ye may remain, Manahem said; he is in the gallery now and coming towards us. Our former brethren, Hazael, have renounced their wives, Manahem began, and would return to us and help to defend our cave. You come submissive to our wisdom? Hazael asked. The three strangers replied that they did so, and Hazael stood, his eyes fixed on the three strangers. We will defend you against robbers if these would seek to dispossess you of your cave, Eleakim cried. We have but two cells vacant, Hazael said. It matters not to us where we sleep if we sleep alone; and the president smiling at Shaphan’s earnestness said: but three more mouths to feed will be a strain upon our stores of grain. Even though there be three more mouths to feed, Shallum answered, there will be six more hands to build a wall against the robbers. To build a wall against robbers? Hazael said. It is a long while we have been dreaming of that wall; and now it seems the time has come to hold a council. We have been speaking of a wall to protect us against robbers ever since we came here, Manahem cried, and Saddoc answered: we have delayed too long, we must build: the younger brethren will reap the benefit of our toil.
We all seem to be in favour of the wall, Hazael said. Are there no dissentients? None. For the next year or more we shall be builders rather than interpreters of the Scriptures. Mathias will come to the wall to discourse to us, Caleb interjected, and Saddoc answered him: whatsoever may befall us, we are certain of one thing, we shall always be listening to Mathias. But Mathias is a man of great learning, Caleb replied. Of Greek learning may be, Saddoc answered. But even that is not sure, some years ago—- But if Greek wisdom be of no value why is it taught here? Caleb interrupted, and the old Essene answered: that Greek wisdom was not taught in the Brook Kerith, but Greek reasoning was applied to the interpretation of Scripture. But there will be no occasion for Mathias’ teaching for some years. Years, sayest thou, Saddoc? Amos interjected. I spoke plainly, did I not? Saddoc answered. If it will take us years to build the wall, Amos said, we may as well save ourselves the trouble of becoming builders, for the robbers will be upon us before it is high enough to keep them out; we shall lose our lives before a half-finished wall, and methinks I might as well have been left to my flock on the hills. Thou speakest truly, Saddoc replied, for I doubt if thou wilt prove a better builder than thou wast a shepherd. If my sheep were poor, thy interpretations of the Scriptures are poorer still, Amos said, and the twain fell to quarrelling apart, while the brethren took counsel together. If this mischief did not befall them, and a wall twenty feet high and many feet in thickness were raised, would they be able to store enough food in the cave to bear a three-months’ siege? And would they be able to continue the cultivation of their figs along the terrace if robbers were at the gates? But a siege, Manahem answered these disputants, cannot well be, for the shepherds on the hills would carry the news of the siege to Jericho, whence troops would be sent to our help, and at their approach the robbers would flee into the hills. What we have to fear is not a siege, but a sudden assault; and from a successful assault a wall will save us. That is true, Saddoc said. And to defend the wall we must possess ourselves of weapons, Caleb, Benjamin and Eleakim cried; and Shallum told them that a certain hard wood, of which there was an abundance in Jericho, could be shaped into cutlasses whereby a man’s head might be struck off at a blow.
At these words the brethren took heart, and Hazael selected Shallum for messenger to go to Jericho for the wood, and a few days afterwards the Essenes were busy carving cutlasses for their defence, and designing a great wall with towers, whilst others were among the cliffs hurling down great masses of stone out of which a wall would soon begin to rise.
And every day, an hour after sunrise, the Essenes were quarrying stone and building their wall, and though they had designed it on a great scale, it rose so fast that in two months they were bragging that it would protect them against the great robber, Saulous, a pillager of many caravans, of whom Jesus had much to say when he came down from the hills. The wall will save you, Jesus said, from him. But who will save my flock from Saulous, who is besieged in a cave, and comes forth at night to seek for food for himself and his followers? But if the cave is besieged? Caleb said, laying down his trowel. The cave has two entrances, Jesus answered, and he told them that his belief now was that what remained of the flock should be sent to Jerusalem for sale. The rams, of course, should be kept, and a few of the best ewes for a flock to be raised in happier times. These were his words one sad evening, and they were so convincing that the builders laid down their trowels and repaired to the vaulted gallery to sit in council. But while they sat thinking how they might send representatives to the procurator the robbers were preparing their own doom by seizing a caravan of more than fifty camels laden with wheat for Jerusalem. A very welcome booty no doubt it was considered by the robbers, but booty–was not their only object? They hoped, as the procurator knew well, to bring about an uprising against Roman rule by means of bread riots, and this last raid provided him with a reason for a grand punitive expedition. Many troops of soldiers were sent out with orders to bring all that could be taken alive into Jerusalem for crucifixion, no mean punishment when carried out as the procurator meditated it. He saw it in his thoughts reaching from Jerusalem to Jericho, and a death penalty for all. Pilate’s methods of smoking the robbers out of their caves has not proved a sufficient deterrent, he said to himself, and a smile came into his face and he rubbed his hands when the news of the first captures was brought to him, and every day small batches were announced. We shall wait, he said, until we have fifty-three, the exact number of camels that were stolen, and then the populace shall come out with me to view them. The spectacle will perhaps quench the desire of robbery in everybody who is disposed to look upon it as an easy way of gaining a livelihood. And the renown of this crucifixion will spread through Judea. For three days at least malefactors will be seen dying at distances of half-a-mile, and lest their sufferings should inspire an attempt at rescue, a decree shall be placed over every cross that any attempt at rescue will be punishable by crucifixion, and to make certain that there shall be no tampering with Roman justice, the soldiers on guard shall be given extra crosses to be used if a comrade should cut down a robber or give him drugs to mitigate his agony. And all this was done as had been commanded. The robbers were exposed at once on the road from Jerusalem, and it was on the first day of the great crucifixion that Jesus, coming round the shoulder of the hill with his flock, was brought to a sudden stop before a group of three.
These, about six or seven hours, a Roman soldier said, in answer to Jesus’ question as to the length of time they had been on their crosses, not more than six hours, the soldier repeated, and he turned to his comrade for confirmation of his words. Put a lance into my side, a robber cried out, and God will reward thee in heaven. Thou hast not ceased to groan since the first hour. But put a lance into my side, the robber cried again. I dare not, the soldier answered. Thou’lt hang easier to-morrow. But all night I shall suffer; put a lance into my side, for my heart is like a fire within me. And do the same for me, cried the robbers hanging on either side. All night long, cried the first robber, the pain and the ache and the torment will last; if not a lance, give me wine to drink, some strong, heady wine that will dull the pain. Thy brethren bear the cross better than thou. Take courage and bear thy pain. I was not a robber because I wished it, my house was set on fire as many another to obtain recruits. Yon shepherd is no better than I. Why am I on the cross and not he? His turn may come, who knows, though he stands so happy among his sheep. To-night he will sleep in a cool cavern, but I shall linger in pain. Give me drink and I will tell thee where the money we have robbed is hidden. The money may not be in the cave, and if it be we might not be able to find it, the soldier answered; and the crucified cried down to him that he could make plain the spot. The soldier was not, however, to be bribed, and they told the crucified that the procurator was coming out to visit the crosses on the morrow, and would be disappointed if he found dead men upon them instead of dying men. Shepherd, the soldiers will not help us, canst thou not help us? Happy shepherd, that will sleep to-night amongst thy sheep. Come by night and give us poison when these soldiers are asleep. We will reward thee. Lift not thy hand against Roman justice, the soldier said to Jesus, lest thou takest his place on the cross. Such are our orders.
Jesus hurried away through the hills, pursued by memories of the crucified robbers, and he went on and on, with the intent of escaping from their cries and faces, till, unable to walk farther, he stopped, and, looking round, saw the tired sheep, their eyes mutely asking him why he had come so far, passing by so much good herbage without halting. Poor sheep, he said, I had forgotten you, but there is yet an hour of light before folding-time. Go, seek the herbage among the rocks. My dogs, too, are tired, he added, and want water, and when he had given them some to drink he sat down, hoping that the crucified might not return to his eyes and ears. But he need not have hoped: he was too tired to think of what he had seen and heard, and sat in peace watching the sunset till, as in a vision, a man in a garden, in an agony of doubt, appeared to him. He was betrayed by a disciple and taken before the priests and afterwards before Pilate, who ordered him to be scourged and crucified, and beneath his cross the multitude passed, wagging their heads, inviting him to descend if he could detach himself from the nails. A veil fell and when it was lifted Joseph was bending over him, and soon after was carrying him to his house. The people of that time rose up before him: Esora, Matred, and the camel-driver, the scent of whose sheepskin had led him back to his sheep, and he had given himself to their service with profit to himself, for it had kept his thoughts from straying backwards or forwards, fixing them in the present. He had lived in the ever-fleeting present for many years–how many? The question awoke him from his reverie, and he sat wondering how it was he could think so quietly of things that he had put out of his mind instinctively, till he seemed to himself to be a man detached as much from hope as from regret. It was through such strict rule that I managed to live through the years behind me, he said; I felt that I must never look back, but in a moment of great physical fatigue the past returned, and it lies before me now, the sting taken out of it, like the evening sky in tranquil waters. Even the memory that I once believed myself to be the Messiah promised to the Jews ceases to hurt; what we deem mistakes are part and parcel of some great design. Nothing befalls but by the will of God. My mistakes! why do I speak of them as mistakes, for like all else they were from the beginning of time, and still are and will be till the end of time, in the mind of God. His thoughts continued to unroll, it was not long before he felt himself thinking that the world was right to defend itself against those that would repudiate it. For the world, he said to himself, cannot be else than the world, a truth that was hidden from me in those early days. The world does not belong to us, but to God. It was he that made it, and it is for him to unmake it when he chooses and to remake us if he chooses. Meanwhile we should do well to accept his decrees and to talk no more of destroying the Temple and building it up again in three days. Nor should we trouble ourselves to reprove the keepers of the Temple for having made themselves a God according to their own image and likeness, with passions like a man and angers like a man, thereby falling into idolatry, for what else is our God but an Assyrian king who sits on a throne and metes out punishments and rewards? It may be that the priests will some day come into the knowledge that all things are equal in God’s sight, and that he is not to be won by sacrifices, observances or prayers, that he has no need of these things, not even of our love, or it may be that they will remain priests. But though God desires neither sacrifices, observances, nor even love, it cannot be that we are wholly divorced from God. It may be that we are united to him by the daily tasks which he has set us to perform.
Jesus was moved to put his pipes to his lips, and the sheep returned to him and followed him into the cavern in which they were to sleep that night.
CHAP. XXIX.
It is a great joy to return to thought after a long absence from it, and Jesus was not afraid, though once his conscience asked him if he were justified in yielding himself unreservedly to reason. A man’s mind, he answered, like all else, is part of the Godhead; and at that moment he heard God speaking to him out of the breeze. My beloved son, he said, we shall never be separated from each other again. And Jesus replied: not again, Father, for thou hast returned to me the God that I once knew in Nazareth and in the hills above Jericho, and lost sight of as soon as I began to read the Book of Daniel. How many, he asked himself, have been led by reading that book into the belief that they were the precursors of the Messiah? We know of Theudas and the Egyptian, and there were many others whose names have not reached us. But I alone believed myself to be the Messiah. He was astonished he could remember so great a sin and not fear God. But I cannot fear God, for I love God, he said; my God neither forgives nor punishes, and if we repent it should be for our own sakes and not to please God. Moreover, it must be well not to waste too much time in repentance, for it is surely better to understand than to repent. We learn through our sins. If it had not been for mine, I should not have learnt that quires and scrolls lead men from God, and that to see and hear God we have only to open our eyes and ears. God is always about us. We hear him in the breeze, and we find him in the flower. He is in these things as much as he is in man, and all things are equal in his sight; Solomon is no greater than Joshbekashar.
He had not remembered the old shepherd, who had taught him all he knew about sheep, for many a day. It is nigh on five and forty years, he said to himself, since he called me to hold the ewes while he made them clean for the winter. It was in yon cave the flock was folded when I laid hands on the ewes for the first time and dragged them forward for him to clip the wool from the rumps. He could see in his memory each different ewe trotting away, looking as if she were thankful for the shepherd’s kind office towards her. There was something extraordinarily restful in his memory of old Joshbekashar, and to prolong it Jesus fell to recalling the old man’s words; and every little disjointed sentence raised up the old man before him. It was but three times that I held the ewes for him, so it cannot be much more than forty years since that first clipping. Now I come to think on it, the clipping befell on a day like to-day. We’ll clip our ewes to-day, and it was with a sense of memorial service in his mind that he called to young Jacob to come to his aid, saying: Joshbekashar’s flock was always folded in yon cave for this clipping, the only change is that I am the clipper and thou’rt holding them for me. There are forty-five to be clipped, and just the same as before each ewe will trot away into the field looking as if she were thankful at having been made clean for the winter. On these words both fell to their work, and the cunning hand spent no more than a minute over each. Stooping over ewes makes one’s back ache, he said, rising from the last one, using the very same words he heard forty years before from Joshbekashar: time brings back the past! he said. We repeat the words of those that have gone before while doing their work; and it is likely we are doing God’s work as well by making the ewes clean for the winter as by cutting their throats in the Temple. All the same stooping over ewes makes one’s back ache, he repeated, for the words evoked the old shepherd, and he waited for Jacob to answer in the words spoken by him forty years ago to Joshbekashar. Himself had forgotten his words, but he thought he would recognise them if Jacob were inspired to speak them. But Jacob kept silence for shame’s sake, for his hope was that the flock would be given to his charge as soon as old age obliged Jesus to join his brethren in the cenoby.
Thou’lt be sorry for me, lad, I know that well, but thou hast begun to look forward to the time when thou’lt walk the hills at the head of the flock like another; it is but proper that thou shouldst, and it is but natural that the time should seem long to thee; but take on a little patience, this much I can vouch for, every bone in me was aching when I left the cavern this morning, and my sight is no longer what it was. Master Jesus, I’d as lief wait; the hills will be naught without thee. Dost hear me, Master? Jesus smiled and dropped back into his meditations and from that day onward very little sufficed to remind him that he would end his days in the cenoby reading the Scriptures and interpreting them. In the cenoby, he said, men do not think, they only read, but in the fields a shepherd need never lose sight of the thought that leads him. A good shepherd can think while watching his sheep, and as the flock was feeding in good order, he took up the thread of a thought to which he had become attached since his discovery that signs and sounds of God’s presence are never lacking on earth. As God’s constant companion and confidant he had come to comprehend that the world of nature was a manifestation of the God he knew in himself. I know myself, he said one day, but I do not know the God which is above, for he seems to be infinite; nor do I know nature, which is beyond me, for that, too, seems to run into infinite, but infinite that is not that of God. A few moments later it seemed to him he might look upon himself as an islet between two infinities. But to which was he nearer in eternity? Ah, if he knew that! And it was then that a conviction fell upon him that if he remained on the hills he would be able to understand many things that were obscure to him to-day. It will take about two years, he said, and then many things that are dark will become clear. Two infinites, God and nature. At that moment a ewe wandering near some scrub caught his attention. A wolf, he said, may be lurking there. I must bring her back; and he put a stone into his sling. A wolf is lurking there, he continued, else Gorbotha would not stand growling. Gorbotha, a golden-haired dog, like a wolf in build, stood snuffing the breeze, whilst Thema, his sister, sought her master’s hand. A moment after the breeze veered, bringing the scent to her, and the two dogs dashed forward into the scrub without finding either wolf or jackal lying in wait. All the same, he said, a wolf or a jackal must have been lying there, and not long ago, or else the dogs would not have growled and rushed to the onset as they did.
They returned perplexed and anxious to their master, who resumed his meditation, saying to himself that if aching bones obliged him to return to the cenoby he would have to give up thinking. For one only thinks well in solitude and when one thinks for oneself alone; but in the cenoby the brethren think together. All the same my life on the hills is not over yet, and an hour later he put his pipes to his lips and led his flock to different hills, for, guided by some subtle sense, he seemed to divine the springing up of new grass; and the shepherds, knowing of this instinct for pasturage, were wont to follow him, and he was often at pains to elude them, for on no hillside is there grass enough for many flocks.
My poor sheep, he said, as he watched them scatter over a grassy hillside. Ye’re happy this springtime for ye do not know that your shepherd is about to be taken from you. But he has suffered too much in the winter we’ve come out of to remain on the hills many more years. Before leaving you he must discover a shepherd that will care for you as well as I have done. Amos is dead; there is no one in the cenoby that understands sheep. Would ye had speech to counsel me. But tell me, what would ye say if I were to leave you in Jacob’s charge? He stood waiting, as if he expected the sheep to answer, and it was then it began to seem to Jesus he might as well entrust his flock to Jacob as to another.
He had sent him out that morning with twenty lambs that were yet too young to run with the flock, and he now stood waiting for him, thinking that if he lost none between this day and the end of the summer, the flock might be handed over to him. Every young man’s past is tarnished, he continued, for he could not forget that Jacob had begun by losing his master’s dogs, two had been killed by panthers. Nor was this the only misfortune that had befallen him. Having heard that rain had fallen in the west, he set out for Caesarea to redeem his credit, he hoped, but at the end of the fourth day he could find no cavern in which to fold his sheep, and he lay down in the open, surrounded by his flock, unsuspicious that a pack of wolves had been trailing him from cavern to cavern since he left the Jordan valley–the animals divining that their chance would come at last. It would have been better, Jacob said, if the wolves had fallen upon him, for after this disaster no one would employ him, and he had wandered an outcast, living on the charity of shepherds, sharing a little of their bread. But such charity could not last long and he would have had to sit with the beggars by the wayside above Jericho if Jesus had not given his lambs into his charge, by this act restoring to Jacob some of his lost faith in himself. He had gone away saying to himself: Jesus, who knows more than all the other shepherds put together, holds me to be no fool, and one day I’ll be trusted again with a flock. I’m young and can wait, and, who knows, Jesus may tell me his cure for the scab, and by serving him I may get a puppy when Thema has a litter. In such wise Jacob looked to Jesus and Thema for future fortune, and as he came over the ridge and caught sight of Jesus waiting for him, he said: call up thy dogs, Master, lest they should fall upon mine and upon me. Gorbotha has already risen to his feet and Thema is growling.
Jesus laid his staff across their backs. What, will ye attack Jacob, he cried, and what be your quarrel with his dogs? Poor Syrian dogs, Jacob answered, that would be quickly killed by thine. If I had had dogs like Gorbotha and Thema the wolves would not—- But, Jacob, thou wouldst have lost thy dogs as well as thy sheep. What stand could any dogs make against a pack of wolves, and a shepherd without dogs is like a bird without wings, as Brother Amos used to say. Yes, that is just it, Jacob replied, struck by the aptness of the comparison. Thou art known, Jesus, to be the most foreseeing shepherd on the hills; but the flock would not have increased without thy dogs. Abdiel is great in his knowledge of dogs, and he told me that he had never known any like thine, Master. Come now, Thema, Jesus cried. Come, lie down here; lay thy muzzle against my knee. And growl not at Jacob or I’ll send thee away. So Abdiel spoke of my dogs! They are well enough, one can work with them. But I’ve had better dogs. Whereupon Jesus told a story how one night he had lain under a fair sky to sleep and had slept so soundly that the rain had not wakened him, but Boreth–that was the dog’s name–distressed at the sight of me lying in the rain, began to lick my face, and when I had wrung out my cloak he led me to a dry cave unknown to me, though I thought I knew every one in these hills. He must have gone in search of one as soon as it began to rain, and when he found a dry one he came back to awaken me. More faithful dogs, he said, there never were than these at my feet, but I’ve known stronger and fiercer. But I’d tell thee another story of Boreth, and he related how one night in December as he watched, having for his protection only Boreth (his other dogs, Anos and Torbitt, being at home, one with a lame paw, the other with puppies), he had fallen asleep, though he knew robbers were about in the hills, especially in the winter months, he said; but I knew I could count on Boreth to awake me if one came to steal the sheep. Now what I’m about to say, Jacob, happened at the time of the great rain of December, when the nights are dark about us. I was sleeping in a sheltered place in the coign of a cliff, the flock was folded and Boreth was away upon his rounds, and it was then that two robbers stole into the cave. One was about to plunge his dagger into me, but I had time to catch his wrist and to whistle; and in a few seconds Boreth leapt upon the robber that was seeking to stab me. He bit his neck and shoulder; and then, leaving that robber disabled, he attacked the robber’s mate, and it was wonderful how he crept round and round in the darkness, biting him all the time, and then pursuing the two he worried them up the valley until his heart misgave him and he thought it wouldn’t be safe to leave me alone any longer. But Gorbotha would defend thee against a robber, Jacob said, and he called to the dog, but Gorbotha only growled at him. Have patience with them, Jesus rejoined; I’ll not feed them for three days, and after feeding them thou’lt take them to the hills, and when they have coursed and killed a jackal for thee it may be that they’ll accept thee for master. But these Thracians rarely love twice. Come, Jacob, and we’ll look into thy flock of lambs and take counsel together. They seem to be doing fairly well with thee–a bit tired, I dare say thou hast come a long way with them. We walked too fast, Jacob answered, saying he had had to go farther than he thought for in search of grass, and had found some that was worth the distance they had journeyed, for the lambs had fallen to nibbling at once. Fell to nibbling at once, did they? Jesus repeated When they’re folded with the ewes, thou’lt put into their jaws a stick to keep them from sucking. And without waiting for Jacob to answer he asked which of all these lambs he would choose to keep for breeding from. Jacob pointed out first one and then another; but Jesus shook his head and showed him a lamb which Jacob had not cast his eyes over and said: one may not say for certain, but I shall be surprised if he doesn’t come into a fine, broad-shouldered ram, strong across the loins and straight on his legs, the sort to get lambs that do well on these hills. And thou’lt be well advised to leave him on his dam another hundred days; shear him, for it will give him strength to take some wool from him, but do not take it from his back, for he will want the wool there to protect him from the sun. And all the first year he will skip about with the ewes and jump upon them, but it will be only play, for his time has not yet come; in two more years he’ll be at his height, serving ten ewes a day; but keep him not over-long; thou must always have some new rams preparing, else thy flock will decline. The ram thou seest on the right is old, and must soon be replaced. But the white ram yonder is still full of service: a better I’ve never known. The white ram is stronger than the black, though the black ewe will turn from him and seek a ram of her own colour. I’ve known a white ram so ardent for a black ewe that he fought the black ram till their skulls cracked. Master, it is well to listen to thee, Jacob interrupted, for none knows sheep like thee, but as none will ever give me charge of a flock again, thy teaching is wasted upon me. Look to the ewes’ teeth, Jacob, and to their udders; see that the udders are sound. Master, never before didst thou mock at me, who am for my misfortunes the mocking-stock of all these fields. In what have I done wrong? That my lambs are a bit tired is all thou hast to blame me for to-day. Jacob, I’m not mocking at thee, but looking forward a little, for time is on thy side and will soon put thee in charge of a flock again. Time is on my side, Jacob repeated. If I understand thee rightly, Master, thy meaning is, that the hills are beginning to weary thee. Look into my beard, Jacob, and see how much grey hair is in it, and my gait is slower than it used to be, a stiffness has come upon me that will not wear out, and my eyes are not as keen as they were, and when I see in thee a wise shepherd, between the spring and autumn, it may be that Hazael, our president, at my advice, will entrust my flock to thy charge.
CHAP. XXX.
So thou thinkest, Eliab, that the autumn rains will make an end of him. And maybe of thee too, Bozrah, Eliab returned. A hard life ours is, even for the young ones. Hard bread by day and at night a bed of stones, a hard life from the beginning one that doesn’t grow softer, and to end in a lion’s maw at fifty is the best we can hope for. For us, perhaps, Bozrah answered; but Jesus will go up to the cenoby among the rocks and die amongst the brethren reading the Scriptures. If the autumn rains don’t make an end of him, Eliab interjected testily, as if he did not like his forecast of Jesus’ death to be called into question. As I was saying, a shepherd’s life is a hard one, and when the autumn rains make an end of him, the brethren will be on the look-out for another shepherd, and there’s not one amongst them that would bring half the flock entrusted to him into the fold at the end of the year. The best of us lose sheep: what with—-
The flock will go to Jacob, the lad he’s been training to follow him ever since his friend was killed, Havilah remarked timidly. Eliab and Bozrah raised their eyes, and looked at Havilah in surprise, for a sensible remark from Havilah was an event, and to their wonder they found themselves in agreement with Havilah. The flock would go to Jacob without doubt. Of course, Havilah cried, excited by the success of his last remark, he be more than fifty. Thou mightst put five years more to the fifty and not be far wrong, Bozrah interposed. Havilah was minded to speak again, but his elders’ looks made him feel that they had heard him sufficiently. Now, Bozrah, how many years dost thou make it since Joseph of Arimathea was killed? How many years? Bozrah repeated. I can’t tell thee how many years, but many years…. Stay, I can mark the date down for thee. It was about ten years before Theudas (wasn’t that his name?) led the multitude over these hills. A great riot that was surely–fires lighted at the side of the woods for the roasting of our lambs, and many’s the fine wood that was turned to blackened stems and sad ashes in those days. It comes back to me now, Eliab interjected. Theudas was the name. I’d forgotten it for the moment. He led the multitude to Jordan, and while he was bidding the waters divide to let him across the Romans had his head off. It was nigh ten years before that rioting Gaddi’s partner was killed in Jerusalem. I believe thee to be right, Bozrah replied, and they talked of the different magicians and messiahs that were still plaguing the country, stirring them up against the Romans. But, cried Bozrah suddenly, the story comes back to me. Not getting any news of his friend, Jesus left his flock with Jacob, and came down to the pass between the hills where the road descends to the lake to inquire from the beggars if they had seen Gaddi’s partner on his way to Jerusalem or Jericho, and seeing the lepers and beggars gathering about Jesus, I came down to hear what was being said, but before I got as far I saw Jesus turn away and walk into the hills. It was from the beggars and lepers that I heard that Joseph had been killed in the streets of Jerusalem. Thou knowest how long beggars take to tell a story; Jesus was far away before they got to the end of it, simple though it was. I’d have gone after him if they’d been quicker. More of the story I don’t know. It was just as thou sayest, mate, Eliab answered, and thou’lt bear me out that it was some months after, maybe six or seven, that Jesus was seen again leading the flock. I remember the day I saw him, for wasn’t I near to rubbing my eyes lest they might be deceiving me–I remember, Eliab continued, it comes back to me as it does to thee, for within two years he had gathered another handsome flock about him. A fine shepherd, Havilah said. None better to be found on the hills. Thou speakest well, Eliab answered him, and for thee to speak well twice in the same day is well-nigh a miracle. Belike thou’lt awake one morning to find thyself the Messiah Israel is waiting for, so great is thy advancement of late in good sense. Havilah turned aside, and Eliab, divining his wounded spirit, sought to make amends by offering him some bread and garlic, but Havilah went away, a melancholy, heavy-shouldered young man, one that, Eliab said, must feel life cruelly, knowing himself as he must have done from the beginning to be what is known as a good-for-nothing. And it was soon after Havilah’s departure that Jesus returned to the shepherds and, stopping in front of Eliab and Bozrah, he said: I’ve come back, mates, to give you my thanks for many a year of good-fellowship. So the time has come for us to lose thee, mate, Eliab answered. We are sorry for it, though it isn’t altogether unlocked for. We were saying not many moments ago, Bozrah interjected, that the life on the hills is no life for a man when he has gone fifty, and thou’lt not see fifty again: no, and not by three years, Jesus answered. It was just about fifty years that the feeling began to come over me that I couldn’t fight another winter, and to think of Jacob, who is waiting for a flock, and he may as well have mine during my life as wait for my death to get it. Better so, said Eliab, whose wont it was to strike his word in whenever the speaker paused. He did not always wait for the speaker to pause, and this trick being known to Bozrah, he said, and by all accounts thou hast made a true shepherd of him, passing over to him all thy knowledge. A lad of good report, Jesus answered, who had fallen on a hard master, a thing that has happened to all of us in our time, Bozrah interjected. He’s not the first that fell out of favour, for that his ewes hadn’t given as many lambs as they might have done. Nor was there anything of neglect in it, but such a bit of ill luck as might run into any man or any man might run up against. He was told, said Eliab, who could not bear anyone to tell a story but himself, that though he were to bring the parts of the sheep the wolf had left behind to his master he would have to seek another master. Such severity frightens the shepherd, and the wolf smells out the frightened shepherd, Jesus said, and he told his mates that he had not found Jacob lacking in truthfulness nor in natural discernment, and he asked them to give all their protection to Jacob, who will, he said, go forth in charge of our flock to-morrow.
The shepherds said again that they were sorry to lose Jesus, and that the hills would not seem like the hills without him, and Jesus answered that he, too, would be lonely among the brethren reading the Scriptures. When one is used to sheep one misses them sorely, Eliab said, there’s always something to learn from them; and he began to tell a story; but before he had come to the end of it Jesus’ thoughts took leave of the story he was listening to, and he turned away, leaving the shepherd with his half-finished story, and walked absorbed in his thoughts, immersed in his own mind, till he had reached the crest of the next hill and was within some hundred yards of the brook. It was then that he remembered he had left them abruptly in the middle of a half-finished relation, and he stopped to consider if he should return to them and ask for the end of the story. But fearing they would think he was making a mocking-stock of them, he sighed, and was vexed that they had parted on a seeming lack of courtesy: on no seeming lack, on a very clear lack, he said to himself; but it would be useless to return to them; they would not understand, and a man had always better return to his own thoughts. Repent, repent, he said, picking up the thread of his thoughts, but acknowledgment comes before repentance, and of what help will repentance be, for repentance changes nothing, it brings nothing unless grief peradventure. I was in the hands of God then just as I am now, and everything within and without us is in his hands. The things that we look upon as evil and the things that we look upon as good. Our sight is not his sight, our hearing is not his hearing, we must despise nothing, for all things come from him, and return to him. I used, he said, to despise the air I breathed, and long for the airs of paradise, but what did these longings bring me?–grief. God bade us live on earth and we bring unhappiness upon ourselves by desiring heaven. Jesus stopped, and looking through the blue air of evening, he could see the shepherds eating their bread and garlic on the hillside. Folding-time is near, he said to himself, but I shall never fold a flock again….
His thoughts began again, flowing like a wind, as mysteriously, arising he knew not whence, nor how, his mind holding him as fast as if he were in chains, and he heard from within that he had passed through two stages–the first was in Jerusalem, when he preached against the priests and their sacrifices. God does not desire the blood of sheep, but our love, and all ritual comes between us and God … God is in the heart, he had said, and he had spoken as truly as a man may speak of the journey that lies before him on the morning of the first day.
In the desert he had looked for God in the flowers that the sun called forth and in the clouds that the wind shepherded, and he had learnt to prize the earth and live content among his sheep, all things being the gift of God and his holy will. He had not placed himself above the flowers and grasses of the earth, nor the sheep that fed upon them, nor above the men that fed upon the sheep. He had striven against the memory of his sin, he had desired only one thing, to acknowledge his sin, and to repent. But it seemed to him that anger and shame and sorrow, and desire of repentance had dropped out of his heart. It seemed to him as he turned and pursued his way that some new thought was striving to speak through him. Rites and observances, all that comes under the name of religion estranges us from God, he repeated. God is not here, nor there, but everywhere: in the flower, and in the star, and in the earth underfoot. He has often been at my elbow, God or this vast Providence that upholds the work; but shall we gather the universal will into an image and call it God?–for by doing this do we not drift back to the starting-point of all our misery? We again become the dupes of illusion and desire; God and his heaven are our old enemies in disguise. He who yields himself to God goes forth to persuade others to love God, and very soon his love of God impels him to violent words and cruel deeds. It cannot be else, for God is but desire, and whosoever yields to desire falls into sin. To be without sin we must be without God.
Jesus stood before the door of the cenoby, startled at the thoughts that had been put into his mind, asking himself if any man had dared to ask himself if God were not indeed the last uncleanliness of the mind.
CHAP. XXXI.
If thou wouldst not miss Mathias’ discourse, Brother Jesus, thou must hasten thy steps. He is telling that the Scriptures are but allegories. Some of us are opposed to this view, believing that Adam and Eve are–Yea, Brother, and my thanks to thee for thy admonishment, Jesus said, for he did not wish to discredit Mathias’ reputation for theological argument; but no sooner was he out of sight of the gate-keeper than he began to examine the great rock that Joseph had predicted would one day come crashing down, and, being no wise in a hurry, fell to wondering how much of the mountain-side it would bring with it when it fell. At present it projected over the pathway for several yards, making an excellent store-house, and, his thoughts suspended between the discussion that was proceeding regarding Adam and Eve–whether the original twain had ever lived or were but allegories (themselves and their garden)–he began to consider if the brethren had laid in a sufficient stock of firewood, and how long it would take him to chop it into pieces handy for burning. He would be glad to relieve the brethren from all such humble work, and for taking it upon himself he would he able to plead an excuse for absenting himself from Mathias’ discourses. Hazael would not refuse to assign to him the task of feeding the doves and the cleaning out of their coops; he would find occupation among the vines and fig-trees–he was something of a gardener–and Hazael would not refuse him permission to return to the hills to see that all was well with the flocks. Jacob will need to be looked after; and there are the dogs; and if they cannot be brought to look upon Jacob as master their lives will be wasted, he said.
I seem to read supper in their eyes, he said, and having tied them up supperless he visited the bitch and her puppies. Brother Ozias hasn’t forgotten to feed her. There is some food still in the platter. But they must submit, he continued, his thoughts having returned to his dogs, Theusa and Tharsa, and then he stood listening, for he could hear Mathias’ voice. The door of the lecture-room is closed; if I step softly none will know that I have returned from the hills, and I can sit unsuspected on the balcony till Mathias’ allegories are ended, and watching the evening descending on the cliff it may be that I shall be able to examine the thoughts that assailed me as I ascended the hillside; whether we pursue a corruptible or an incorruptible crown the end is the same, he said. It was not enough for me to love God, I must needs ask others to worship him, at first with words of love, and when love failed I threatened, I raved; and the sin I fell into others will fall into, for it s natural to man to wish to make his brother like himself, thereby undoing the work of God. Myself am no paragon; I condemned the priests whilst setting myself up as a priest, and spoke of God and the will of God though in all truth I had very little more reason than they to speak of these things. God has not created us to know him, or only partially through our consciousness of good and evil. Good and evil do not exist in God’s eyes as in our eyes, for he is the author of all, but it may be that our sense of good and evil was given to us by him as a token of our divine nature. If this be true, why should we puzzle and fret ourselves with distinctions like Mathias? It were better to leave the mystery and attend to this life, casting out desire to know what God is or what nature is, as well as desire for particular things in this world which long ago I told men to disregard…. A flight of doves distracted his attention, and a moment after the door of the lecture-room opened and Saddoc and Manahem appeared, carrying somebody dead or who had fainted. As they came across the domed gallery towards the embrasure Jesus heard Manahem say: he will return to himself as soon as we get him into the air. And they placed him where Jesus had been sitting. A little water, Saddoc cried, and Jesus ran to the well, and returning with a cup of water he stood by sprinkling the worn, grey face. The heat overcame me, he murmured, but I shall soon be well and then you will bear me back to hear–The sentence did not finish, and Jesus said: thou’lt be better here with me, Hazael, than listening to discourses that fatigue the mind. Mathias is very insistent, Manahem muttered. He is indeed, Saddoc answered. And while Jesus sat by Hazael, fearing that his life might go out at any moment, Manahem reproved Saddoc, saying that whereas duty is the cause of all good, we have only to look beyond our own doors to see evil everywhere. Even so, Saddoc answered, what wouldst thou? That the world, Manahem answered, was created by good and evil angels. Whereupon Saddoc asked him if he numbered Lilith, Adam’s first wife, among the evil angels. A question Manahem did not answer, and, being eager to tell the story, he turned to Jesus, who he guessed did not know it, and began at once to tell it, after warning Jesus that it was among their oldest stories though not to be found in the Scriptures. She must be numbered among the evil angels, he said, remembering that Saddoc had put the question to him, for she rebuked Adam, who took great delight in her hair, combing it for his pleasure from morn to eve in the garden, and left him, saying she could abide him no longer. At which words, Jesus, Adam sorrowed, and his grief was such that God heard his sighs and asked him for what he was grieving, and he said: I live in great loneliness, for Lilith, O Lord, has left me, and I beg thee to send messengers who will bring her back. Whereupon God took pity on his servant Adam and bade his three angels, Raphael, Gabriel and Michael, to go away at once in search of Lilith, whom they found flying over the sea, and her answer to them was that her pleasure was now in flying, and for that reason I will not return to Adam, she said. Is that the answer we are to bring back to God? they asked. I have no other answer for him, she answered, being in a humour in which it pleased her to anger God, and the anger that her words put upon him was so great that to punish her he set himself to the creation of a lovely companion for Adam. Be thou lonely no more, he said to Adam. See, I have given Eve to thee. Adam was never lonely again, but walked through a beautiful garden, enjoying Eve’s beauty unceasingly, happy as the day was long, till tidings of their happiness reached Lilith, who by that time had grown weary of flying from sea to sea: I will make an end of it, she said, and descending circle by circle she went about seeking the garden, which she found at last, but failing to find the gate or any gap in the walls she sat down and began combing her hair. Nor was she long combing it before Lucifer, attracted by the rustling, came by, saying: I would be taken captive in the net thou weavest with thy hair, and she answered: not yet; for my business is in yon garden, but into it I can find no way. Wilt lend me thy sinewy shape, Lucifer? for in it I shall be able to glide over the walls and coil myself into the tree of forbidden fruit, and I shall persuade Eve as she passes to eat of it, for it will be to her great detriment to do so. But of what good will that be to me? Lucifer answered, wouldst thou leave me without a shape whilst thou art tempting Eve? Thy reward will be that I will come to thee again when I have tempted Eve and made an end of her happiness. We shall repeople the world with sons and daughters more bright and beautiful and more supple than any that have ever been seen yet. All the same, Lucifer answered, not liking to part with his shape. But as his desire could not be gainsaid, he lent his shape to Lilith for an hour. And it was in that hour our first parents fell into sin, and were chased from the garden. Did she return to Lucifer and fulfil her promise or did she cheat him? Saddoc asked. As Manahem was about to answer Saddoc intervened again: Manahem, thou overlookest the fact that Mathias holds that the Garden of Eden and Adam and Eve, to say nothing of Lilith, are a parable, and his reason for thinking thus is, as thou knowest well, that the Scriptures tell us that after eating of the forbidden fruit Adam and Eve sought to hide themselves from God among the trees.
He holds as thou sayest, Saddoc, that the garden means the mind of man as an individual; and he who would escape from God flees from himself, for our lives are swayed between two powers: the mind of the universe, which is God, and the separate mind of the individual. Then, if I understand thee rightly, Manahem, and thy master, Mathias, the Scriptures melt into imagery? What says Jesus? This, Saddoc, that it was with such subtleties of discourse and lengthy periods that Mathias fatigued our Father till he fainted away in his chair. Jesus is right, Manahem answered; it was certainly Mathias’ discourse that fatigued our Father, so why should we prolong the argument in his face while he is coming back to life?
It was not the length of Mathias’ discourse, nor his eloquence, Hazael said, that caused my senses to swoon away. My age will not permit me to listen long. I would be with Jesus, and I would that ye, Saddoc and Manahem, return to the lecture-room at once, else our brother will think his discourse has failed. Jesus is here to give the attendance I require. Go, hasten, lest ye miss any of his points. The brethren were about to raise a protest, but at a sign from Jesus they obeyed; Mathias’ voice was heard as soon as the door of the lecture-room was opened, but the brethren did not forget to close it, and when silence came again Hazael said: Jesus, come hither, sit near me, for I would speak to thee, but cannot raise my voice. Thou’lt sleep here to-night, and to-morrow we shall meet again. And this is well, for my days are numbered. I shall not be here to see next year’s lambs and to agree that this new shepherd shall be recompensed by a gift of eighteen, as is the custom. And Jesus, understanding that the president was prophesying his own death, said: why speakest like this to me who have returned from the hills to strangers, for all are strangers to me but thou. I shall be sorry to leave thee, Jesus, for our lives have been twisted together, strands of the same rope. But it must be plain to thee that I am growing weaker; month by month, week by week, my strength is ebbing. I am going out; but for what reason should I lament that God has not chosen to retain me a few months longer, since my life cannot be prolonged for more than a few months? My eighty odd years have left me with barely strength enough to sit in the doorway looking back on the way I have come. Every day the things of this world grow fainter, and life becomes to me an unreal thing, and myself becomes unreal to those around me; only to thee do I retain anything of my vanished self. So why should I remain? For thy sake, lest thou be lonely here? Well, that is reason enough, and I will bear the burden of life as well as I can for thy sake. A burden it is, and for a reason that thou mayest not divine, for thou art still a young man in my eyes, and, moreover, hast not lived under a roof for many years listening to learned interpretations of Scripture. Thou hast not guessed, nor wilt thou ever guess, till age reveals it to thee, that as we grow old we no longer concern ourselves to love God as we used to love him. No one would have thought, not even thou, whose mind is always occupied with God, and who is more conscious of him perhaps than any one I have known, no one, I say, not even thou, would have thought that as we approach death our love of God should grow weaker, but this is so. In great age nothing seems to matter, and it is this indifference that I wish to escape from. Thou goest forth in the morning to lead thy flock in search of pasture, if need be many hours, and God is nearer to us in the wilderness than he is among men. This meaning, Jesus said, that under this roof I, too, may cease to love God? Not cease to love God: one doesn’t cease to love God, Hazael answered. But, Hazael, this night I’ve yielded up the flocks to a new shepherd, for my limbs have grown weary, and what thou tellest me of old age frightens me. Thou wouldst warn me that God is only loved on the hills under the sky—- I am too weak to choose my thoughts or my words, and many things pass out of my mind, Hazael answered. Had I remembered I shouldn’t have spoken. But why not speak, Father? Jesus asked, so that I may be prepared in a measure for the new life that awaits me. Life never comes twice in the same way, Hazael replied; nor do the same things befall any two men. I know not what may befall thee: but the sky, Jesus, will always be before thine eyes and the green fields under thy feet, even while listening to Mathias. But thou didst live once under the sky, Jesus said. Not long enough, Hazael murmured, but the love of God was ardent in me when I walked by day and night, sleeping under the stars, seeking young men who could give up their lives to the love of God and bringing them back hither into the fold of the Essenes. In those days there was little else in me but love of God, and I could walk from dusk to dusk without wearying; twelve and fifteen hours were not too many for my feet: my feet bounded along the road while my eyes followed white clouds moving over the sky; I dreamed of them as God’s palaces, and I saw God not only in the clouds but in the grass, and in the fields, and the flower that covers the fields. I read God in the air and in the waters: and in every town in Palestine I sought out those that loved God and those that could learn to love God. I could walk well in those days, fifteen hours were less than as many minutes are now. I have walked from Jerusalem to Joppa in one day, and the night that I met thy father outside Nazareth I had walked twelve hours, though I had been delayed in the morning: eight hours before midday, and after a rest in the wood I went on again for several hours more, how many I do not know, I’ve forgotten. I did not know the distance that I had walked till I met thy father coming home from his work, his tools in the bag upon his shoulder. His voice is still in my ear. But if it be to Nazareth thou’rt going, come along with me, he said. And I can still hear ourselves talking, myself asking him to direct me to a lodging, and his answering: there’s a house in the village where thou’lt get one, and I’ll lead thee to it. But all the beds in that house were full; we knocked at other inns, but the men and women and children in them were asleep and not to be roused; and if by chance our knocking awakened somebody we were bidden away with threats that the dogs would be loosed upon us. Nazareth looks not kindly on the wayfarer to-night, I said. Yet it shall not be said that a stranger had to sleep in the streets of Nazareth, were thy father’s very words to me, Jesus. Come to my house, he said, though it be small and we have to put somebody out of his bed, it will be better than that our town should gain evil repute. Thou canst not have forgotten me coming, for thy father shook thee out of thy sleep and told thee that he wanted thy bed for a stranger. I can see thee still standing before me in thy shift, and though the hours I’d travelled had gone down into my very marrow, and sleep was heavy upon my eyes, yet a freshness came upon me as of the dawn when I looked on thee, and my heart told me that I had found one that would do honour to the Essenes, and love God more than any I had ever met with yet. But I think I hear thee weeping, Jesus. Now, for what art thou weeping? There is nothing sad in the story, only that it is a long time ago. Our speech next day still rings in my ear–my telling thee of the Pharisees that merely minded the letter of the law, and of the Sadducees that said there was no life outside this world except for angels. It is well indeed that I remember our two selves sitting by the door on two stools set under a vine, and it throwing pretty patterns of shadow on the pavement whilst we talked–whilst I talked to thee of the brethren, who lived down by the Bitter Lake, no one owning anything more than his fellow, so that none might be distracted from God by the pleasures of this world. I can see clearly through the years thy face expectant, and Nazareth–the deeply rutted streets and the hills above.
The days that we walked in Nazareth are pleasant memories, for I could never tell thee enough about the Essenes: their contempt of riches, and that if there were one among them who had more than another, on entering the order he willingly shared it. We were among the hills the day that I told thee about the baker; how he put a platter with a loaf on it before each of the brethren, how they broke bread, deeming the meal sacred, and it was the next day that we bade farewell to thy father and thy mother and started on our journey; a long way, but one that did not seem long to us, so engaged were we with our hopes. It was with me thou sawest Jerusalem for the first time; and I remember telling thee as we journeyed by the Jordan seeking a ford that the Essenes looked upon oil as a defilement, and if any one of them be anointed without his approbation it is wiped off, for we think to be sweaty is a good thing, and to be clothed in white garments, and never to change these till they be torn to pieces or worn out by time.
And of the little band that came with us that day from Galilee there remain Saddoc, Manahem and thyself. All of you learnt from me on the journey that we laboured till the fifth hour and then assembled together again clothed in white veils, after having bathed our bodies in cold water. But, Jesus, why this grief? Because I am going from thee? But, dear friend, to come and to go is the law of life, and it may be that I shall be with thee longer than thou thinkest for; eighty odd years may be lengthened into ninety: the patriarchs lived till a hundred and more years, and we believe that the soul outlives the body. Out of the chrysalis we escape from our corruptible bodies, and the beautiful butterfly flutters Godward. Grieve for me a little when I am gone, but grieve not before I go, for I would see thy face always happy, as I remember it in those years long ago in Nazareth. Jesus, Jesus, thou shouldst not weep like this! None should weep but for sin, and thy life is known to me from the day in Nazareth when we sat in the street together to the day that thou wentest to the Jordan to get baptism from John.
Ah! that day was the only day that my words were unheeded. But I am saying things that would seem to wound thee, and for why I know not! Tell me if my words wound or call up painful memories. Thy suffering is forgotten, or should be, for if ever any man merited love and admiration for a sincere and holy life thou—- I beg of thee, Father, not to say another word, for none is less worthy than I am. The greatest sinner amongst us is sitting by thee, one that has not dared to tell his secret to thee…. The memory of my sin has fed upon me and grown stronger, becoming a devil within me, but till now I have lacked courage to come to thee and ask thee to cast it out. But now since thou art going from us this year or the next, I wouldn’t let thee go without telling it; to none may I tell it but to thee, for none else would understand it. I am listening, Jesus, Hazael answered.
The mutter of the water in the valley below them arose and grew louder in the silence; as Jesus prepared to speak his secret the doors of the lecture-room opened and the monks came out singing:
In the Lord put I my trust:
How say ye to my soul, Flee
As a bird to your mountain?
For, lo, the wicked bend their
Bow, they make ready their arrow
Upon the string, that they may privily Shoot at the upright in heart.
If the foundations be destroyed, what Can the righteous do?
For the righteous Lord loveth
Righteousness; his countenance
Doth behold the upright.
The words of the psalm are intended for me, Jesus whispered, and now that the brethren are here I may not speak, but to-morrow—- There may be no to-morrow for us, the president answered. Even so, Jesus answered, I cannot speak to-night. It is as if I were bidden to withhold my secret till to-morrow. We know not why we speak or why we are silent, but silence has been put upon me by the words of the psalm. Be it so, the president answered, and he was helped by Saddoc and Manahem to his feet. Our Brother Jesus, he said, has given over the charge of our flocks to a young shepherd in whom he has confidence, and Jesus sleeps under a roof to-night, the first for many years, for, like us, he is getting older, and the rains and blasts of last winter have gone into his bones. All the cells, Father, Saddoc replied, are filled. I know that well, Saddoc, Hazael said as he went out; Jesus can sleep here on these benches; a mattress and a cloak will be sufficient for him who has slept in caverns, or in valleys on heaps of stones that he piled so that he might not drown in the rains. Manahem will get thee a mattress, Jesus; he knows where to find one. I am strong enough to walk alone, Saddoc. And disengaging himself from Saddoc’s arm he walked with the monks towards his cell, joining them in the psalm:
All the powers of the Lord
Bless ye the Lord; praise and
Exalt him above all for ever.
As the doors of the cell closed Saddoc approached Jesus, and, breaking his reverie, he said: thou hast returned to us at last; and it was not too soon, for the winter rains are cold on bones as old as thine. But here comes Manahem with a mattress for thee. On the bench here, Manahem; on the bench he’ll lie comfortably, and we’ll get him a covering, for the nights are often chilly though the days be hot, we must try to make a comfortable resting-place for him that has guarded our flocks these long years. Wilt tell us if thou beest glad to yield thy flock to Jacob and if he will sell ewes and rams to the Temple for sacrifice? Ask me not any questions to-night, Brother Saddoc, for I’m troubled in mind. Forgive me my question, Jesus, Saddoc answered, and the three Essenes, leaning over the edge of the gorge, stood listening to the mutter of the brook. At last, to break the silence that the brook rumpled without breaking, Jesus asked if a wayfarer never knocked at the door of the cenoby after dark asking for bread and board. None knows the path well enough to keep to it after dark, Saddoc said; though the moon be high and bright the shadows disguise the path yonder. The path is always in darkness where it bends round the rocks, and the wayfarer would miss his footing and fall over into the abyss, even though he were a shepherd. Thyself wouldst miss it. Saddoc speaks well; none can follow the path, Manahem said, and fortunately, else we should have all the vagrants of the country knocking at our door.
We shall have one to-night–vagrant or prophet, Jesus said, and asked his brethren to look yonder; for it seemed to him that a man had just come out of the shadow of an overhanging rock. Manahem could see nobody, for, he said, none could find the way in the darkness, and if it be a demon, he continued, and fall, it will not harm him: the devil will hold him up lest he dash himself at the bottom of the ravine. But if it be a man of flesh and blood like ourselves he will topple over yon rock, and Manahem pointed to a spot, and they waited, expecting to see the shadow or the man they were watching disappear, but the man or the shadow kept close to the cliffs, avoiding what seemed to be the path so skilfully that Saddoc and Manahem said he must know the way. He will reach the bridge safely, cried Saddoc, and we shall have to open our doors to him. Now he is crossing the bridge, and now he begins the ascent. Let us pray that he may miss the path through the terraces. But would you have him miss it, Saddoc, Jesus asked, for the sake of thy rest? He shall have my mattress; I’ll sleep on this bench in the window under the sky, and shall be better there: a roof is not my use nor wont. But who, said Saddoc, can he be?–for certainly the man, if he be not an evil spirit, is coming to ask for shelter for the night; and if he be not a demon he may be a prophet or robber: once more the hills are filled with robbers. Or it may be, Jesus said, the preacher of whom Jacob spoke to me this evening; he came up from the Jordan with a story of a preacher that the multitude would not listen to and sought to drown in the river, and our future shepherd told me how the rabble had followed him over the hills with the intent to kill him. Some great and terrible heresy he must be preaching to stir them like that, Manahem said, and he asked if the shepherd had brought news of the prophet’s escape or death. Jesus answered that the shepherd thought the prophet had escaped into a cave, for he saw the crowd dispersing, going home like dogs from a hunt when they have lost their prey. If so, he has been lying by in the cave. Who can he be? Saddoc asked. Only a shepherd could have kept to the path. Now he sees us … and methinks he is no shepherd, but a robber.
The Essenes waited a few moments longer and the knocking they had expected came at their door. Do not open it, Saddoc cried. He is for sure a robber sent in advance of his band, or it may be a prisoner of the Romans, and to harbour him may put us on crosses above the hills. We shall hang! Open not the door! If it be a wayfarer lost among the hills a little food and water will save him, Jesus answered. Open not the door, Jesus; though he be a prophet I would not open to him. A prophet he may be, and no greater danger besets us, for our later prophets induced men to follow them into the desert, promising that they should witness the raising of the dead with God riding the clouds and coming down for judgment. I say open not the door to him, Jesus! He may be one of the followers of the prophets, of which we have seen enough in these last years, God knows! The cavalry of Festus may be in pursuit of him and his band, and they have cut down many between Jerusalem and Jericho. I say open not the door! We live among terrors and dangers, Jesus; open not the door! Hearken, Saddoc, he calls us to open to him, Jesus said, moving towards the door. He is alone. We know he is, for we have seen him coming down a path on which two men pass each other with difficulty. He is a wayfarer, and we’ve been safe on this ledge of rock for many years; and times are quieter now than they have been since the dispersal of the great multitude that followed Theudas and were destroyed, and the lesser multitude that followed Banu; they, too, have perished.
Open not the door, Jesus! Saddoc cried again. There are Sicarii who kill men in the daytime, mingling themselves among the multitude with daggers hidden in their garments, their mission being to stab those that disobey the law in any fraction. We’re Essenes, and have not sent blood offerings to the Temple. Open not the door. Sicarii or Zealots travel in search of heretics through the cities of Samaria and Judea. Open not the door! Men are for ever fooled, Saddoc continued, and will never cease to open their doors to those who stand in need of meat and drink. It will be safer, Jesus, to bid him away. Tell him rather that we’ll let down a basket of meat and drink from the balcony to him. Art thou, Manahem, for turning this man from the door or letting him in? Jesus asked. There is no need to be frightened, Manahem answered; he is but a wanderer, Saddoc. A wanderer he cannot be, for he has found his way along the path in the darkness of the night, Saddoc interjected. Open not the door, I tell thee, or else we all hang on crosses above the hills to-morrow. But, Saddoc, we are beholden to the law not to refuse bed and board to the poor, Manahem replied, returning from the door. If we do not open, Jesus said, he will leave our door, and that will be a greater misfortune than any that he may bring us. Hearken, Saddoc! He speaks fair enough, Saddoc replied; but we may plead that after sunset in the times we live in—- But, Manahem, Jesus interjected, say on which side thou art…. We know there is but one man; and we are more than a match for one. Put a sword in Saddoc’s hand. No! Manahem! for I should seem like a fool with a sword in my hand. Since thou sayest there is but one man and we are three, it might be unlucky to turn him from our doors. May I then open to him? Jesus asked, and he began to unbar the great door, and a heavy, thick-set man, weary of limb and mind, staggered into the gallery, and stood looking from one to the other, as if trying to guess which of the three would be most likely to welcome him. His large and bowed shoulders made his bald, egg-shaped skull (his turban had fallen in his flight) seem ridiculously small; it was bald to the ears, and a thick black beard spread over the face like broom, and nearly to the eyes; thick black eyebrows shaded eyes so piercing and brilliant that the three Essenes were already aware that a man of great energy had come amongst them. He had run up the terraces despite his great girdlestead and he stood before them like a hunted animal, breathing hard, looking from one to the other, a red, callous hand scratching in his shaggy chest, his eyes fixed first on Saddoc and then on Manahem and lastly on Jesus, whom he seemed to recognise as a friend. May I rest a little while? If so, give me drink before I sleep, he asked. No food, but drink. Why do ye not answer? Do ye fear me, mistaking me for a robber? Or have I wandered among robbers? Where am I? Hark: I am but a wayfarer and thou’rt a shepherd of the hills, I know thee by thy garb, thou’lt not refuse me shelter. And Jesus, turning to Saddoc and Manahem, said: he shall have the mattress I was to sleep upon. Give it to him, Manahem. Thou shalt have food and a coverlet, he said, turning to the wayfarer. No food! he cried; but a drink of water. There is some ewe’s milk on the shelf, Manahem. Thou must be footsore, he said, giving the milk to the stranger, who drank it greedily. I’ll get thee a linen garment so that thou mayst sleep more comfortable; and I’ll bathe thy feet before sleep; sleep will come easier in a fresh garment. But to whose dwelling have I come? the stranger asked. A shepherd told me the Essenes lived among the rocks…. Am I among them? He told me to keep close to the cliff’s edge or I should topple over. We watched thee, and it seemed every moment that thou couldst not escape death. It will be well to ask him his name and whence he comes, Saddoc whispered to Manahem. The shepherd told thee that we are Essenes, and it remains for thee to tell us whom we entertain. A prisoner of the Romans—- A prisoner of the Romans! Saddoc cried. Then indeed we are lost; a prisoner of the Romans with soldiers perhaps at thy heels! A prisoner fled from Roman justice may not lodge here…. Let us put him beyond our doors. And becoming suddenly courageous Saddoc went up to Paul and tried to lift him to his feet. Manahem, aid me!
Jesus, who had gone to fetch a basin of water and a garment, returned and asked Saddoc and Manahem the cause of their unseemly struggle with their guest. They replied that their guest had told them he was a prisoner of the Romans. Even so, Jesus answered, we cannot turn him from our doors. These men have little understanding, Paul answered. I’m not a criminal fled from Roman justice, but a man escaped from Jewish persecution. Why then didst thou say, cried Saddoc, that thou’rt a prisoner of the Romans? Because I would not be taken to Jerusalem to be tried before the Jews. I appealed to Caesar, and while waiting on the ship to take me to Italy, Festus gave me leave to come here, for I heard that there were Jews in Jericho of great piety, men unlike the Jews of Jerusalem, who though circumcised in the flesh are uncircumcised in heart and ear. Of all of this I will tell you to-morrow, and do you tell me now of him that followed me along the cliff. We saw no one following thee; thou wast alone. He may have missed me before I turned down the path coming from Jericho. I speak of Timothy, my beloved son in the faith. What strange man is this that we entertain for the night? Saddoc whispered to Manahem. And if any disciple of mine fall into the hands of the Jews of Jerusalem—- We know not of what thou’rt speaking, Jesus answered; and it is doubtless too long a story to tell to-night. I must go at once in search of Timothy, Paul said, and he turned towards the door. The moon is setting, Jesus cried, and returning to-night will mean thy death over the cliffs edge. There is no strength in thy legs to keep thee to the path. I should seek him in vain, Paul answered. Rest a little while, Jesus said, and drink a little ewe’s milk, and when thou hast drunken I’ll bathe thy feet.
Without waiting for Paul’s assent he knelt to untie his sandals. We came from Caesarea to Jericho to preach the abrogation of the law. What strange thing is he saying now? The abrogation of the law! Saddoc whispered to Manahem. The people would not listen to us, and, stirred up by the Jews, they sought to capture us, but we escaped into the hills and hid in a cave that an angel pointed out to us. Hark, an angel pointed out a cave to him! Manahem whispered in Saddoc’s ear. Then he must be a good man, Saddoc answered, but we know not if he speaks the truth. We have had too many prophets; he is another, and of the same tribe, setting men by the ears. We have had too many prophets!
Now let me bathe thy feet, which are swollen, and after bathing Paul’s feet Jesus relieved him of his garment and passed a white robe over his shoulders. Thou’lt sleep easier in it. They would have done well to hearken to me, Paul muttered. Thou’lt tell us thy story of ill treatment to-morrow, Jesus said, and he laid Paul back on his pillow, and a moment after he was asleep.
CHAP. XXXII.
Jesus feared to awaken him, but was constrained at last to call after him: thou’rt dreaming, Paul. Awake! Remember the Essenes … friends, friends. But Paul did not hear him, and it was not till Jesus laid his hand on his shoulder that Paul opened his eyes: thou hast been dreaming, Paul, Jesus said. Where am I? Paul inquired. With the Essenes, Jesus answered. I was too tired to sleep deeply, Paul said, and it would be useless for me to lie down again. I am afraid of my dreams; and together they stood looking across the abyss watching the rocks opposite coming into their shapes against a strip of green sky.
The ravine was still full of mist, and a long time seemed to pass before the bridge and the ruins over against the bridge began to appear. As the dawn advanced sleep came upon Paul’s eyelids. He lay down and dozed awhile, for about an hour, and when he opened his eyes again Jesus’ hand was upon his shoulder and he was saying: Paul, it is now daybreak: at the Brook Kerith we go forth to meet the sunrise. To meet the sunrise, Paul repeated, for he knew nothing of the doctrine of the Essenes. But he followed Jesus through the gallery and received from him a small hatchet with instructions how he should use it, and a jar which he must fill with water at the well. We carry water with us, Jesus said, for the way is long to the brook; only by sending nearly to the source can we reach it, for we are mindful not to foul the water we drink. But come, we’re late already. Jesus threw a garment over Paul’s shoulder and told him of the prayers he must murmur. We do not speak of profane matters till after sunrise. He broke off suddenly and pointed to a place where they might dig: and as soon as we have purified ourselves, he continued, we will fare forth in search of shepherds, who, on being instructed by us, will be watchful for a young man lost on the hills and will direct him to the Essene settlement above the Brook Kerith. Be of good courage, he will be found. Hadst thou come before to-day myself would be seeking him for thee, but yesterday I gave over my flock to Jacob, a trustworthy lad, who will give the word to the next one, and he will pass it on to another, and so the news will be carried the best part of the way to Caesarea before noon. It may be that thy companion has found his way to Caesarea already, for some can return whither they have come, however long and strange the way may be. Pause, we shall hear Jacob’s pipe answer mine. Jesus played a few notes, which were answered immediately, and not long afterwards the shepherd appeared over a ridge of hills. Thy shepherd, Paul said, is but a few years younger than Timothy and he looks to thee as Timothy looks to me. Tell him who I am and whom I seek. Jacob, Jesus said, thou didst tell me last night of a preacher to whom the multitude would not listen, but sought to throw into the Jordan. He has come amongst us seeking his companion Timothy. The twain escaped from the multitude, Jacob interjected. That is true, Jesus answered, but they ran apart above the brook, one keeping on to Caesarea, this man followed the path round the rocks (how he did it we are still wondering) and climbed up to our dwelling. We must find his companion for him. Jacob promised that every shepherd should hear that a young man was missing. As soon as a shepherd appears on yon hillside, Jacob said, he shall have the word from me, and he will pass it on. Jesus looked up into Paul’s anxious face. We cannot do more, he said, and began to speak with Jacob of rams and ewes just as if Timothy had passed out of their minds. Paul listened for a while, but finding little to beguile his attention in their talk, he bade Jesus and Jacob good-bye for the present, saying he was returning to the cenoby. I wonder, he said to himself, as he went up the hill, if they’d take interest in my craft, I could talk to them for a long while of the thread which should always be carefully chosen, and which should be smooth and of equal strength, else, however deftly the shuttle be passed, the woof would be rough. But no matter, if they’ll get news of Timothy for me I’ll listen to their talk of rams and ewes without complaint. It was kind of Jacob to say he did not think Timothy had fallen down a precipice, but what does he know? and on his way back Paul tried to recall the ravine that he had seen in the dusk as he leaned over the balcony with Jesus. And as he passed through the domed gallery he stopped for a moment by the well, it having struck him that he might ask the brother drawing water to come with him to look for Timothy. If my son were lying at the bottom of the ravine, he said, I should not be able to get him out without help. Come with me.
The Essene did not know who Paul was, nor of whom he was speaking, and at the end of Paul’s relation the brother answered that there might be two hundred feet from the pathway to the brook, more than that in many places; but thou’lt see for thyself; I may not leave my work. If a man be dying the Essene, by his rule, must succour him, Paul said. But I know not, the Essene answered, that any man be dying in the brook. We believe thy comrade held on to the road to Caesarea. So it may have befallen, Paul said, but it may be else. It may be, the Essene answered, but not likely. He held on to the road to Caesarea, and finding thee no longer with him kept on–or rolled over the cliff, Paul interrupted. Well, see for thyself; and if he be at the bottom I’ll come to help thee. But it is a long way down, and it may be that we have no rope long enough, and without one we cannot reach him, but forgive me, for I see that my words hurt thee. But how else am I to speak? I know thy words were meant kindly, and if thy president should ask to see me thou’lt tell him I’ve gone down the terraces and will return as soon as I have made search. This search should have been made before. That was not possible; the mist is only; just cleared, the brother answered, and Paul proceeded up and down the terraces till he reached the bridge, and after crossing it he mounted the path and continued it, venturing close to the edge and looking down the steep sides as he went, but seeing nowhere any traces of Timothy. Had he fallen here, he said to himself, he would be lying in the brook. But were Timothy lying there I could not fail to see him, nor is there water enough to wash him down into Jordan. It must be he is seeking his way to Caesarea. Let it be so, I pray God, and Paul continued his search till he came to where the path twisted round a rock debouching on to the hillsides. We separated here, he said, looking round, and then remembering that they had been pursued for several miles into the hills and that the enemy’s scouts might be lurking in the neighbourhood, he turned back and descended the path, convinced of the uselessness of his search. We parted at that rock, Timothy keeping to the left and myself turning to the right, and if anything has befallen he must be sought for by shepherds, aided by dogs. Only with the help of dogs can he be traced, he said, and returning slowly to the bridge, he stood there lost in feverish forebodings, new ones rising up in his mind continually, for it might well be, he reflected, that Timothy has been killed by robbers, for these hills are infested by robbers and wild beasts, and worse than the wild beasts and the robbers are the Jews, who would pay a large sum of money for his capture.
And his thoughts running on incontinently, he imagined Timothy a prisoner in Jerusalem and himself forced to decide whether he should go there to defend Timothy or abandon his mission. A terrible choice it would be for him to have to choose between his duty towards men and his love of his son, for Timothy was more to him than many sons are to their fathers, the companion of all his travels and his hope, for he was falling into years and needed Timothy now more than ever. But it was not likely that the Jews had heard that Timothy was travelling from Jericho to Caesarea, and it was a feverish imagination of his to think that they would have time to send out agents to capture Timothy. But if such a thing befell how would he account to Eunice for the death of the son that she had given him, wishing that somebody should be near him to protect and to serve him. He had thought never to see Eunice again, but if her son perished he would have to see her. But no, there would be no time–he had appealed to Caesar. He must send a letter to her telling that he had started out for Jericho. A dangerous journey he knew it to be, but he was without strength to resist the temptation of one more effort to save the Jews: a hard, bitter, stiff-necked, stubborn race that did not deserve salvation, that resisted it. He had been scourged, how many times, at the instigation of the Jews? and they had stoned him at Lystra, a city ever dear to him, for it was there he had met Eunice; the memories that gathered round her beautiful name calmed his disquiet, and the brook murmuring under the bridge through the silence of the gorge disposed Paul to indulge his memory, and in it the past was so pathetic and poignant that it was almost a pain to remember. But he must remember, and following after a glimpse of the synagogue and himself preaching in it there came upon him a vision of a tall, grave woman since known to him as a thorn in his flesh, but he need not trouble to remember his sins, for had not God himself forgiven him, telling him that his grace was enough? Why then should he hesitate to recall the grave, oval face that he had loved? He could see it as plainly in his memory as if it were before him in the flesh, her eyes asking for his help so appealingly that he had been constrained to relinquish the crowd to Barnabas and give his mind to Eunice. And they had walked on together, he listening to her telling how she had not been to the Synagogue for many years, for though she and her mother were proselytes to the Jewish faith, neither practised it, since her marriage, for her husband was a pagan. She had indeed taught her son the Scriptures in Greek, but no restraint had been put upon him; and she did not know to what god or goddess he offered sacrifice. But last night an angel visited her and told her that that which she had always been seeking (though she had forgotten it) awaited her in the synagogue. So she had gone thither and was not disappointed. I’ve always been seeking him of whom thou speakest. Her very words, and the very intonation of her voice in these words came back to him; he had put questions to her, and they had not come to the end of their talk when Laos, calling from the doorstep, said: wilt pass the door, Eunice, without asking the stranger to cross it? Whereupon she turned her eyes on Paul and asked him to forgive her for her forgetfulness, and Barnabas arriving at that moment, she begged him to enter.
And they had stayed on and on, exceeding their apportioned time, Barnabas reproving the delay, but always agreeing that their departure should be adjourned since it was Paul’s wish to adjourn it. So Barnabas had always spoken, for he was a weak man, and Paul acknowledged to himself that he too was a weak man in those days.
Laos seemed to love Barnabas as a mother, and Laos and Eunice were received by me into the faith, Paul said. On these words his thoughts floated away and he became absorbed in recollections of the house in Lystra. The months he had spent with these two women had been given to him, no doubt, as a recompense for the labours he had endured to bring men to believe that by faith only in our Lord Jesus Christ could they be saved. He would never see Lystra again with his physical eye, but it would always be before him in his mind’s eye: that terrible day the Jews had dragged him and Barnabas outside the town rose up before him. Only by feigning death did they escape the fate of Stephen. In the evening the disciples brought them back. Laos and Eunice sponged their wounds, and at daybreak they left for Derbe, Barnabas saying that perhaps God was angry at their delay in Lystra and to bring them back to his work had bidden the Jews stone them without killing them. Eunice was not sure that Barnabas had not spoken truly, and Paul remembered with gratitude that she always put his mission before herself. Thou’lt be safer, she said, in Derbe, and from Derbe thou must go on carrying the glad tidings to the ends of the earth. But thou must not forget thy Galatians, and when thou returnest to Lystra Timothy will be old enough to follow thee. He had fared for ever onwards over seas and lands, ever mindful of his faithful Galatians and Eunice and her son whom she had promised to him, and whom he had left learning Greek so that he might fulfil the duties of amanuensis.
The silence of the gorge and the murmur of the brook enticed recollections and he was about to abandon himself to memories of his second visit to Lystra when a voice startled him from his reverie, and, looking round, he saw a tall, thin man who held his head picturesquely. I presume you are our guest, and seeing you alone, I laid my notes aside and have come to offer my services to you. Your services? Paul repeated. If you desire my services, Mathias replied; and if I am mistaken, and you do not require them, I will withdraw and apologise for my intrusion. For your intrusion? Paul repeated. I am your guest, and the guest of the Essenes, for last night Timothy and myself were assailed by the Jews. By the Jews? Mathias replied, but we are Jews. Whereupon Paul told him of his journey from Caesarea, and that he barely escaped drowning in the Jordan. In the escape from drowning Mathias showed little interest, but he was curious to hear the doctrine that had given so much offence. I spoke of the Lord Jesus Christ, Paul answered, the one Mediator between God and man who was sent by his Father to redeem the world. Only by faith in him the world may be saved, and the Jews will not listen. A hard, bitter, cruel race they are, that God will turn from in the end, choosing another from the Gentiles, since they will not accept him whom God has chosen to redeem men by the death and resurrection from the dead of the Lord Jesus Christ, raised from the dead by his Father. Mathias raised his eyes at the words “resurrection from the dead.” Of whom was Paul speaking? He could still be interested in miracles, but not in the question whether the corruptible body could be raised up from earth to heaven. He had wearied of that question long ago, and was now propense to rail against the little interest the Jews took in certain philosophical questions–the relation of God to the universe, and suchlike–and he began to speak to Paul of his country, Egypt, and of Alexandria’s schools of philosophy, continuing in this wise till Paul asked him how it was that he had left a country where the minds of the people were in harmony with his mind to come to live among people whose thoughts were opposed to his. That would be a long story to tell, Mathias answered, and I am in the midst of my argument.
The expression that began to move over Mathias’ face told Paul that he was asking himself once again what his life would have been if he had remained in Alexandria. Talking, he said, to these Essenes who stand midway between Jerusalem and Alexandria my life has gone by. Why I remained with them so long is a question I have often asked myself. Why I came hither with them from the cenoby on the eastern bank, that, too, is a matter that I have never been able to decide. You have heard, he continued, of the schism of the Essenes. How those on the eastern bank believe that the order can only be preserved by marriage, while those on the western bank, the traditionalists up there on that rock in that aerie, would rather the order died than that any change should be made in the rule of life. In answer to a question from Paul he said he did not believe that the order would survive the schism. It may be, too, that I return to Alexandria. No man knows his destiny; but if you be minded, he said, to hear me, I will reserve a place near to me. My mind is distracted, Paul replied, by fears for the safety of Timothy; and perhaps to save himself from Mathias’ somewhat monotonous discourse he spoke of his apostolic mission, interesting Mathias at once, who began to perceive that Paul, however crude and elementary his conceptions might be (so crude did they appear to Mathias that he was not inclined to include them in his code of philosophical notions at all), was a story in himself, and one not lacking in interest; his ideas though crude were not common, and their talk had lasted long enough for him to discern many original turns of speech in Paul’s incorrect Greek, altogether lacking in construction, but betraying constantly an abrupt vigour of thought. He was therefore disappointed when Paul, dropping suddenly the story of the apostolic mission, which he had received from the apostles, who themselves had received it from the Lord Jesus Christ, began to tell suddenly that on his return from his mission to Cyprus with Barnabas he had preached in Derbe and Lystra. It was in Lystra, he cried, that I met Timothy, whom I circumcised with my own hand; he was then a boy of ten, and his mother, who was a pious, God-fearing woman, foresaw in him a disciple, and said when we left, after having been cured by her and her mother of our wounds, when thou returnest to the Galatians he will be nearly old enough to follow thee, but tarry not so long, she added. But it was a long while before I returned to Lystra, and then Timothy was a young man, and ever since our lives have been spent in the Lord’s service, suffering tortures from robbers that sought to obtain ransom. We have been scourged and shipwrecked. But, said Mathias, interrupting him, I know not of what you are speaking, and Paul was obliged to go over laboriously in words the story that he had dreamed in a few seconds. And when it was told Mathias said: your story is worth telling. After my lecture the brethren will be glad to listen to you. But, said Paul, what I have told you is nothing to what I could tell; and Mathias answered: so much the better, for I shall not have to listen to a twice-told story. And now, he added, I must leave you, for I have matter that must be carefully thought out, and in those ruins yonder my best thinking is done.
Speak to the Essenes; tell them of my conversion? Paul repeated. Why not? he asked himself, since he was here and could not leave till nightfall. Festus had given him leave to go to Jericho to preach while waiting for the ship that was to take him to Rome, and he had found in Jericho the intolerance that had dragged him out of the Temple at Jerusalem; circumcision of the flesh but no circumcision of the spirit…. But here! He had been led to the Essenes by God, and all that had seemed dark the night before now seemed clear to him. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that the Lord wished his chosen people to hear the truth before his servant Paul left Palestine for ever. He had been led by the Lord among these rocks, perhaps to find twelve disciples, who would leave their rocks when they heard the truth of the death and ascension of Jesus of Nazareth and would carry the joyful tidings to the ends of the earth.
CHAP. XXXIII.
The Essenes, ten in number, were seated in an embrasure. A reader had been chosen (an elder) to read the Scriptures, and the attention of the community was now engaged in judgment of his attempt to reconcile two passages, one taken from Numbers in which it is said that God is not as man, with another passage taken from Deuteronomy in which God is said to be as man. He had just finished telling the brethren that these two passages were not in contradiction, the second being introduced for the instruction of the multitude and not because the nature of man is as God’s nature, and, on second thoughts, he added: nor must it be forgotten that the Book of Deuteronomy was written when we were a wandering tribe come out of the desert of Arabia, without towns or cities, without a Temple, without an Ark–ours having fallen into the hands of the Philistines. He continued his gloss till Mathias held up his hand and asked Hazael’s permission to speak: the words that had been quoted from Deuteronomy, those in which the Scriptures speak of God as if he were a man, attributing to him the acts and motives of man, were addressed, as our reader has pointed out, to men who had hardly advanced beyond the intelligence of childhood, whose minds were still simple and unable to receive any idea of God except the primitive notion that God is a greater man. Now the reason for my interruption is this: I should like to point out that for those who have passed beyond this stage, whose intelligence is not limited to their imagination, and whose will is not governed by selfish fears and hopes, there is another lesson in the words: we can rise to the consciousness of God as an absolute Being, of whom we know only that he is, and not what he is, and this is what is meant when God is spoken of by the name I am that I am.
Eleazar was minded to speak: Mathias begged of him not to withhold his thoughts, but to speak them, and it was at this moment that Paul entered, walking softly, lest his footsteps should interrupt Eleazar, whom he heard say that he disagreed with the last part of Mathias’ speech, inasmuch as it would be against the word of the Scriptures and likewise against all tradition to accept God as no more than the absolute substance, which strictly taken would exclude all differences and relation, even the differences and relation of subject and object in self-consciousness. I shall not be lacking in appreciation of the wisdom of our learned brother, Paul heard him say, if I venture to hold to the idea of a God whom we know at least to be conscious, for he says: I am, a statement which had much interest for Paul; and while considering it he heard Manahem say: it is hard to conceive of God except as a high principle of being and well-being in the universe, who binds all things to each other in binding them to himself. Then there are two Gods and not one God, Saddoc interposed quickly, an objection to which Manahem made this answer: not two Gods but two aspects, thereby confuting Saddoc for the moment, who muttered: two aspects which have, however, to be reduced to unity.
Paul’s eyes went from Saddoc to Mathias, and he thought that Mathias’ face wore an expression of amused contempt as he listened and called upon other disputants to contribute their small thoughts to the discussion. Encouraged by a wave of his hand, Caleb ventured to remark: there is God and there is the word of God, to which Hazael murmured this reply: there is only one God; one who watches over his chosen people and over all the other nations of the earth. But does God love the other nations as dearly as the Hebrew people? Manahem asked, and Hazael answered him: we may not discriminate so far into the love of God, it being infinite, but this we may say, that it is through the Hebrew people that God makes manifest his love of mankind, on condition, let it be understood, of their obedience to his revealed will. And if I may add a few words to the idea so eloquently suggested by our Brother Mathias, I would say that God is the primal substance out of which all things evolve. But these words must not be taken too literally, thereby refusing to God a personal consciousness, for God knows certainly all the differences and all the relations, and we should overturn all the teaching of Scripture and lose ourselves in the errors of Greek philosophy if we held to the belief of a God, absolute, pure, simple, detached from all concern with his world and his people. But in what measure, Manahem asked, laying his scroll upon his knees and leaning forward, his long chin resting on his hand, in what measure, he asked, speaking out of his deepest self, are we to look upon God as a conscious being; if Mathias could answer that question we should be grateful, for it is the question which torments every Essene in the solitude of his cell.
Has any other brother here a word to say? Now you, Brother Caleb? I am sure there is a thought in your heart that we would all like to hear. Brother Saddoc, I call upon thee! Brother Saddoc seemed to have no wish to speak, but Mathias continued to press him, saying. Brother Saddoc, for what else hast thou been seeking in thy scroll but for a text whereon to base an argument? And seeing that it was impossible for him to escape from the fray of argument, Brother Saddoc answered that he took his stand upon Deuteronomy. Do we not read that the Lord thy God that goeth before thee shall fight for thee, and in the desert thou hast seen that he bore thee, as a man bears his sons, all the way that ye went till ye came unto this place. But Saddoc, Eleazar interrupted, has forgotten that one of the leading thoughts in this discourse is that the words in Deuteronomy were written for starving tribes that came out of Arabia rather than for us to whom God has given the land of Canaan. We were then among the rudiments of the world and man was but a child, incapable, as Mathias has said, of the knowledge of God as an absolute being. But then, answered Saddoc, the Scriptures were not written for all time. Was anything, Mathias murmured, written for all time? Paul was about to ask himself if Mathias numbered God among the many things that time wastes away when his thought was interrupted by Manahem asking how we are to understand the words, the heavens were created before the earth. Do the Scriptures mean that intelligence is prior to sense? Mathias’ face lighted up, and, foreseeing his opportunity to make show of his Greek proficiency he began: heaven is our intelligence and the earth our sensibility. The spirit descended into matter, and God created man according to his image, as Moses said and said well, for no creature is more like to God than man: not in bodily form (God is without body), but in his intelligence; for the intelligence of every man is in a little the intelligence of the universe, and it may be said that the intelligence lives in the flesh that bears it as God himself lives in the universe, being in some sort a God of the body, which carries it about like an image in a shrine. Thus the intelligence occupies the same place in man as the great President occupies in the universe–being itself invisible while it sees everything, and having its own essence hidden while it penetrates the essences of all other things. Also, by its arts and sciences, it finds its way through the earth and through the seas, and searches out everything that is contained in them. And then again it rises on wings and, looking down upon the air and all its commotions, it is borne upwards to the sky and the revolving heavens and accompanies the choral dances of the planets and stars fixed according to the laws of music. And led by love, the guide of wisdom, it proceeds still onward till it transcends all that is capable of being apprehended by the senses, and rises to that which is perceptible only by the intellect. And there, seeing in their surpassing beauty the original ideas and archetypes of all the things which sense finds beautiful, it becomes possessed by a sober intoxication, like the Corybantian revellers, and is filled with a still stronger longing, which bears it up to the highest summit of the intelligible world till it seems to approach to the great king of the intelligible world himself. And while it is eagerly seeking to behold him in all his glory, rays of divine light are pouring forth upon it which by their exceeding brilliance dazzle the eyes of the intelligence.
Whilst he spoke, his periods constructed with regard for every comma, Mathias’ eyes were directed so frequently towards Paul that Paul could not but think that Mathias was vaunting his knowledge of Greek expressly, as if to reprove him, Paul, for the Aramaic idiom that he had never been able to wring out of his Greek, which he regretted, but which, after hearing Mathias, he would not be without; for to rid himself of it he would have to sacrifice the spirit to the outer form; as well might he offer sacrifice to the heathen gods; and he could not take his eyes off the tall, lean figure showing against the blue sky, for Mathias spoke from the balcony, flinging his grey locks from his forehead, uncertain if he should break into another eloquent period or call upon Paul to speak. He was curious to hear Paul, having divined a quick intelligence beneath an abrupt form that was withal not without beauty; he advanced towards Hazael and, leaning over his chair, whispered to him. He is telling, Paul said to himself, that it would be well to hear me as I am about to start for Rome to proclaim the truth in that city wherein all nations assemble. Well, let it be so, since it was to this I was called hither.
Hazael raised his eyes and was about to ask Paul to speak, but at that moment the bakers arrived with their bread baskets, and the Essenes moved from the deep embrasure in the wall into the domed gallery, each one departing into his cell and returning clothed in a white garment and white veil. Paul was about to withdraw, but Hazael said to him: none shares this repast with us; it is against the rule; but so many of the rules of the brethren have been set aside in these later days that, with the consent of all, I will break another rule and ask Paul of Tarsus to sit with us though he be not of our brotherhood, for is he not our brother in the love of God, which he has preached travelling over sea and land with it for ever in his mouth for the last twenty years. Preaching, Paul answered, the glad tidings of the resurrection, believing myself to have been bidden by the same will of God that called me hither and saved me from death many times that I might continue to be the humble instrument of his will. I will tell you that I was behoven to preach in Jericho–called out of myself–God knowing well they would not hear me and would drive me into the mountains and turn my feet by night to this place. Be it so, Paul, thou shalt tell thy story, the president answered, and the cook put a plate of lentils before the brethren and the baker set by each plate a loaf of bread, and everyone waited till the grace had been repeated before he tasted food. The peace, concord and good will; all that he had recommended in his Epistles; Paul saw around him, and he looked forward to teaching the Essenes of the approaching end of the world, convinced that God in his great justice would not allow him, Paul, to leave Palestine without every worthy servant hearing the truth. So he was impatient to make an end of the food before him, for the sustenance of the body was of little importance to him, its only use being to bear the spirit and to fortify it. He took counsel therefore with himself while eating as to the story he should tell, and his mind was ready with it when the president said: Paul, our meal is finished now; we would hear thee.
CHAP. XXXIV.
Yesterday the Jews would have thrown me into the Jordan or stoned me together with Timothy, my son in the faith, who instead of following me round the hill shoulder kept straight on for Caesarea, where I pray that I may find him. These things you know of me, for three of the brethren were on that balcony yesternight when, upheld by the will of God, my feet were kept fast in the path that runs round this ravine. The Jews had abandoned their hunt when I arrived at your door, awakening fear in Brother Saddoc’s heart that I was a robber or the head of some band of robbers. Such thoughts must have disturbed his mind when he saw me, and they were not driven off when I declared myself a prisoner to the Romans; for he besought me to depart lest my presence should bring all here within the grip of the Roman power. A hard and ruthless power it may be, but less bitter than the power which the Jews crave from the Romans to compel all to follow not the law alone, but the traditions that have grown about the law. But you brethren who send no fat rams to the Temple for sacrifice, but worship God out of your own hearts, will have pity for me who have been persecuted by the Jews of Jerusalem (who in their own eyes are the only Jews) for no reason but that I preach the death and the resurrection from the dead of our Lord Jesus Christ, whose apostle I am, being so made by himself when he spoke to me out of the clouds on the road to Damascus.
Of this great wonder you shall hear in good time, but before beginning the story you have asked me to relate I would before all calm Brother Saddoc’s fears: I am no prisoner as he imagines me to be, but am under the law to return to Caesarea, having appealed to Caesar as was my right to do, being a Roman citizen long persecuted by the Jews; and I would thank you for the blankets I enjoyed last night and for the bread I have broken with you. Also for the promise that I have that one of you shall at nightfall put me on the way to Caesarea and accompany me part of the way, so that I may not fall into the hands of my enemies the Jews, of Jerusalem, but shall reach Caesarea to take ship for Rome. None of you need fear anything; you have my assurances; I am here by the permission of the noble Festus.
And now that you have learnt from me the hazard that cast me among you I will tell you that I am a Jew like yourselves: one born in Tarsus, a great city of Cilicia; a Roman citizen as you have heard from me, a privilege which was not bought by me for a great sum of money, nor by any act of mine, but inherited from my father, a Hebrew like yourselves, and descended from the stock of Abraham like yourselves. And by trade a weaver of that cloth of which tents are made; for my father gave me that trade, for which I thank him, for by it I have earned my living these many years, in various countries and cities. At an early age I was a skilful hand at the loom, and at the same time learned in the Scriptures, and my father, seeing a Rabbi in me, sent me to Jerusalem, and while I was taught the law I remember hearing of the Baptist, and the priests of the Temple muttering against him, but they were afraid to send men against him, for he was in great favour with the people. Afterwards I returned to Tarsus, where I worked daily at my loom until tidings came to that city that a disciple of John was preaching the destruction of the law, saying that he could destroy the Temple and build it up again in three days. We spoke under our breaths in Tarsus of this man, hardly able to believe that anyone could be so blasphemous and reprobate, and when we heard of his death upon a cross we were overjoyed and thought the Pharisees had done well; for we were full of zeal for the traditions and the ancient glory of our people. We believed then that heresy and blasphemy were at an end, and when news came of one Stephen, who had revived all the stories that Jesus told, that the end of the world was nigh and that the Temple could be destroyed and built up again, I laid my loom aside and started for Jerusalem in great anger to join with those who would root out the Nazarenes: we are now known as Christians, the name given to us at Antioch.
I was telling that I laid aside my loom in Tarsus and set out for Jerusalem to aid in rooting out the sect that I held to be blasphemous and pernicious. Now on the day of my arrival in that city, while coming from the Temple I saw three men hurrying by, one whose face was white as the dead, with a small crowd following; and everyone saying: not here, not here! And as they spoke stones were being gathered, and I knew that they were for stoning the man they had with them, one Stephen, they said, who had been teaching in the Temple that Jesus was born and died and raised from the dead, and that since his death the law is of no account. So did I gather news and with it abhorrence, and followed them till they came to an angle, at which they said: this corner will do. Stephen was thrown into it, and stones of all kinds were heaped upon him till one spattered his brains along the wall, after which the crowd muttered, we shall have no more of them.
That day I was of the crowd, and the stone that spattered the brains of Stephen along the wall seemed to me to have been well cast; I hated those who spoke against the law of our fathers, which I held in reverence, as essential and to be practised for all time; and the mild steadfastness in their faces, and the great love that shone in their eyes when the name of our Lord Jesus Christ was mentioned, instead of persuading me that I might be persecuting saints, exasperated me to further misdeeds. I became foremost in these persecutions, and informed by spies of the names of the saints, I made search in their houses at the head of armed agents and dragged them into the synagogue, compelling them to renounce the truth that the Messiah had come which had been promised in the Scriptures. Nor was I satisfied when the last Nazarene had been rooted out of Jerusalem, but cast my eyes forward to other towns, into which the saints might have fled, and, hearing that many were in Damascus, I got letters from the chief priests and started forth in a fume of rage which I strove to blow up with the threats of what we would put the saints to when we reached Damascus. But while the threats were on my lips there was in my heart a mighty questioning, from which I did not seem to escape, perhaps because I had not thrown a stone but stood by an approving spectator merely. I know not how it was, but as we forded the Jordan the cruelties that I had been guilty of, the inquisitions, the beatings with rods, the imprisonment–all these things rose up in my mind, a terrible troop of phantoms. Gentle faces and words of forgiveness floated past me one night as we lay encamped in a great quarry, and I asked myself again if these saints were what they seemed to be; and soon after the thought crossed my mind that if the Nazarenes were the saints that they seemed to be, bearing their flogging and imprisonments with fortitude, without complaint, it was of persecuting God I was guilty, since all goodness comes from God.
I had asked for letters from Hanan, the High Priest, that would give me the right to arrest all ill thinkers, and to lead them back in chains to Jerusalem, and these letters seemed to take fire in my bosom, and when we came in view of the town, and saw the roofs between the trees, I heard a voice crying to me: Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks; and trembling I fell forward, my face upon the ground, and the Lord said: I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. Arise, and go into the city and it shall be told to thee what thou must do; by these words appointing me his apostle and establishing my rights above those of Peter or John or James or any of the twelve who walked with him whilst he lived as a man in Galilee. My followers, who were merely stricken, but not blinded as I was, took me by the arm and led me into Damascus, where I abode as a blind man till Ananias laid his hands upon me and the scales fell from my eyes, and I cried out for baptism, and having received baptism, which is spiritual strength, and taken food, which is bodily, I went up to the synagogue to preach that Jesus is the son of God, and continued till the Jews in that city rose up against me and would have killed me if I had not escaped by night, let down from the wall in a basket.
From Damascus I went into Arabia, and did not go up to Jerusalem for three years to confer with the apostles, nor was there need that I should do so, for had I not received my apostleship by direct revelation? But after three years I went thither, hearing that the persecutions had ceased, and that some of those whom I had persecuted had returned. The brother of Jesus, James, had come down from Galilee and as a holy man was a great power in Jerusalem. His prayers were valued, and his appearance excited pity and belief that God would hearken to him when he knelt, for he was naked but for a coarse cloth hanging from his neck to his ankles. Of water and cleanliness he knew naught, and his beard and hair grew as the weeds grow in the fields. Peter, too, was in Jerusalem, and come into a great girth since the toil of his craft, as a fisher, had been abandoned, as it had to be, for, as ye know, it is dry desert about Jerusalem, without lakes or streams. But he lived there better than he had ever lived before, by talking of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom it was no longer a danger to talk, for James had made his brother acceptable in Jerusalem by lopping from him all that was Jesus, making him according to his own image; with these Christians he no longer stood up as an opponent of the law, but as one who believed in it, who had said: I come not to abolish the law but to confirm it. So did his brother James interpret Jesus to me who had heard Jesus speak out of the spirit, and when I answered that he had said too that he had come to abolish the law, James answered only that his brother had said many things and that some were not as wise as others. Peter, who was called upon to testify that Jesus wished the Jews to remain Jews, and that circumcision and all the observances were needed, answered that he did not know which was the truth, Jesus not having spoken plainly on these matters, and neither one nor the other seemed to understand that it was of no avail that Jesus should have been born, should have died and been raised from the dead by his Father if the law were to prevail unchanged for evermore. To James and to Peter Jesus was a prophet, but no more than the prophets, and unable to understand either Peter or Jesus, I returned to Tarsus broken-hearted, for there did not seem to be on earth a true Christian but myself, and I knew not whom to preach to, Gentiles or Jews. Only of one thing was I sure, that the Lord Jesus Christ had spoken to me out of the clouds and ordained me his apostle, but he had not pointed out the way, and I mourned that I had gone up to Jerusalem, and abode in Tarsus disheartened, resuming my loom, sitting at it from daylight till dark, waiting for some new sign to be given me, for I did not lose hope altogether, but, knowing well that the ways of Providence are not immediate, waited in patience or in such patience as I might possess myself. Barnabas I had forgotten, and he was forgotten when I said that I had met none in Jerusalem that could be said to be a follower of the Master.
It was Barnabas who brought me to James, the brother of the Lord, and to Peter, and told them that though I had persecuted I was now zealous, and had preached in many synagogues that Christ Jesus had died and been raised from the dead. But whether they feared me as a spy, one who would betray them, or whether it was that our minds were divided upon many things, I know not, but Barnabas could not persuade them, and, as I have said, I left Jerusalem and returned to Tarsus, and resumed my trade, until Barnabas, who had been sent to Antioch to meet some disciples, said to them, but there is one at Tarsus who has preached the life and death of our Lord Jesus Christ and brought many to believe in him. So they said to him: go to Tarsus for this man and bring him hither. And when they had seen and conferred with me and knew what sort of man I was, Barnabas said, with your permission and your authority, Paul and I will start together for Cyprus, for that is my country, and my friends there will believe us when we tell them that Jesus was raised from the dead and was seen by many: first by Martha and Mary, the sisters of Lazarus, and afterwards by Peter and by the apostles and many others. As the disciples were willing that we should go to preach the Gospel in Cyprus, we went thither furnished with letters, and received a kindly welcome from everybody, as it had been foretold by Barnabas, and many heard the Gospel, and if my stay among you Essenes could be prolonged beyond this evening and for several days I could tell you stories of a great magician and how he was confuted by me by the grace of God working through me, but as everything cannot be told in the first telling I will pass from Cyprus back to Antioch, where we rested awhile, so that we might tell the brethren of the great joy with which the faith had been received in Cyprus, of the churches we founded and our promise to the Cyprians to return to them.
And so joyful were the brethren in Antioch at our success that I said to Barnabas: let us not tarry here, but go on into Galatia. We set out, accompanied by John Mark, Barnabas’ cousin, but he left us at Perga, being afraid, and for his lack of courage I was unable to forgive him, thereby estranging myself later on from Barnabas, a God-fearing man. But to tell you what happened at Lystra. We found the people there ready to listen to the faith, and it was given to me to set a cripple that had never walked in his life straight upon his feet, and as sturdily as any. The people cried out at this wonder, the gods have come down to us, and when the rumour reached the High Priest that the gods had come to their city, he drove out two oxen, garlanded, and would have sacrificed them in our honour, but we tore our garments, saying, we are men like yourselves and have come to preach that you should turn from vanities and false gods and worship the one true living God, who created the earth, and all the firmament. The people heard us and promised to abjure their idolatries, and would have abjured them for ever if the Jews from the neighbouring cities had not heard of our preaching and had not gathered together and denounced us in Lystra, where there were no Jews, or very few. Nor were they content with denouncing us, but on a convenient occasion dragged Barnabas and myself outside the town, stoned us and left us for dead, for we, knowing that God required us, feigned death, thereby deceiving them and escaping death we returned to the town by night and left it next day for Derbe.
Now, Essenes, this story that I tell of what happened to us at Lystra has been told with some care by me, for it is significant of what has happened to me for twenty years, since the day, as you have heard, when the Lord Jesus himself spoke to me out of the clouds and appointed me to preach the Gospel he had given unto me, which, upheld by him, I have preached faithfully, followed wherever I went by persecution from Jews determined to undo my work. But undeterred by stones and threats, we returned to Lystra and preached there again, and in Perga and Attalia, from thence we sailed to Antioch, and there were great rejoicings in Saigon Street, as we sat in the doorways telling of the churches that we founded in Galatia, and how we flung open the door of truth to the pagans, and how many had passed through.
But some came from Jerusalem preaching that the uncircumcised could not hope for salvation, and that there could be no conversion unless the law be observed, and the first observance of the law, they said, is circumcision. We answered them as is our wont that it is no longer by observances of the law but by grace, through our Lord Jesus Christ, that men may be saved; and we being unable to yield to them or they to us, it was resolved that Barnabas and Titus, a Gentile that we brought over to the faith, should go to Jerusalem.
On the way thither we preached that the Saviour promised to the Jews had come, and been raised from the dead, and the Samaritans hearkened and were converted in great numbers, and the news of these conversions preceding us the joy among the brethren was very great, for you, who know the Scriptures, need not be told that the conversion of the Gentiles has been foretold; nor was it till we began to talk about the abrogation of the law that James and the followers of James rose up against us. We wondered, and said to each other: were ever two brothers as unlike as these? Though myself had never seen the Lord in the flesh, I knew of him from Peter, and we whispered together with our eyes fixed on the long, lean man whose knees were reported callous from kneeling in the Temple praying that God might not yet awhile destroy the world. It was sufficient, so it was said, for him to hold up his hand to perform miracles, and we came to dislike him and to remember that he had always looked upon Jesus our Lord with suspicion during his lifetime. Why then, we asked, should he come into power derived from his brother’s glory?
He seemed to be less likely than any other Jew to understand the new truth born into the world. So I turned from him to Peter, in whom I thought to find an advocate, knowing him to be one with us in this, saying that it were vain to ask the Gentiles to accept a yoke which the Hebrews themselves had been unable to bear; but Peter was still the timid man that he had ever been, and myself being of small wit in large and violent assemblies said to him: thou and I and James will consult together in private at the end of this uproar. But James could not come to my reason, saying always that the Gentiles must become Jews before they became Christians; and remembering very well all the trouble and vexation the demand for the circumcision of Titus had put upon me (to which I consented, for with a Jew I am a Jew so that I may gain them), and how he had submitted himself lest he should be a stumbling-block, I said to Timothy, my own son in the faith, thy mother and grandmother were hearers of the law, and he answered, let me be a Jew externally, and myself took and circumcised. A good accommodation Peter thought this to be, and I said to Peter, henceforth for thee the circumcised and for me the uncircumcised. Against which Peter and James had nothing to say, for it seemed to them that the uncircumcised were one thing in Jerusalem and another thing beyond Jerusalem. But I was glad thus to come to terms with them, thinking thereby to obtain from them the confirmation of my apostleship, though there was no need for any such, as I have always held, it having teen bestowed upon me by our Lord Jesus Christ himself; and holding it to be of little account that they had known our Lord Jesus in the flesh, I said to their faces, it were better to have known him in the spirit, thereby darkening them. It might have been better to have held back the words.
Myself and Barnabas and Titus returned to Antioch and it was some days after that I said to Barnabas: let us go again into the cities in which we have preached and see if the brethren abide in our teaching and how they do with it. But Barnabas would bring John Mark with him, he who had