* * * * * * * * * *
Love e’en through absence waxeth strong,
Doth souls when parted fast enchain:
Fruition, hasten! wait not long,
O heavenly Queen! begin thy reign.
The synagogue of the Cyrenians was in the valley of the Cheesemongers, a little to the northeast of the Pool of Siloam. It was a simple, square building, severely plain in the interior, with Scripture-texts printed on the whitewashed walls. The platform was enclosed by a rail, and occupied at times by any male member of the synagogue who could read and expound the Law. The seats were divided into two sections by a lattice-work partition, the men occupying one side, and the women the other. The services were not confined to the Sabbath, but often held on other days of the week, and sometimes in the evening.
It was a bright morning, and the synagogue was thronged with worshippers, part being Sadducees; and there were also many Jews who were pilgrims from the countries beyond Judea, having remained after the Feast of Pentecost. It had been noised abroad that Stephanos, the eloquent young apostle of the New Faith, would speak touching the interpretation of the Law and prophets. Many knew of him; for he had healed some sick folk, and done signs and wonders among the common people. Abdiel, Benoni, Saulus, and Cassia convened with the congregation. The rulers of the synagogue had consented that Stephanos should lead in the exposition of Scripture for that day. Comely and youthful in appearance, he stepped upon the platform, and searching among the rolls of the Law, brought out many passages, which he read and briefly expounded as he passed along. He then re-rolled them carefully, and putting them away, addressed the assembly.
“Ye men of Israel! I count myself happy to proclaim to you the Dispensation now beginning, which betokens the fulfilment of great promises, not to the Jews only, but to all the nations of the earth. Ye are the inheritors of the promise made to Abraham: ‘And in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed.’ And again, Moses indeed saith, ‘A prophet shall the Lord God raise up unto you from among your brethren, like unto me; to him shall ye hearken in all things, whatsoever he shall speak unto you.’ Daniel prophesieth of the setting up of ‘an everlasting kingdom,’ and this kingdom is at hand. David asked to ‘find a habitation for the God of Jacob.’ ‘But the Most High dwelleth not in houses made with hands;’ as saith the prophet,—
‘The heaven is my throne,
And the earth the footstool of my feet.’
“And now, behold Jesus, the prophet of Nazareth, was he in whom ‘all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’ Him have ye slain, and taken his blood upon you and your children. He was the Son of God; and his kingdom, being a spiritual kingdom, will know no end. Ye look for a king who will restore your nation, but I warn you that no such sign may be given. The kingdom of God filleth the whole earth. The Holy Spirit hath been poured out, and dwelleth with all who seek its guidance. Jesus, after the flesh, we know no more; but the same spirit that was in him aboundeth unto all who will receive it. It yieldeth fruits of faith, hope, love, courage, and patience, and is peaceful, longsuffering, and kind. It is an awakening of a higher life and mind in men, be they Jew or Gentile. Behold it maketh all things new, for its faith is fruitful and multiplieth all good. God requireth not sacrifices, burnt-offerings, and ceremonial oblations, but would have a pure worship. Neither doth circumcision avail anything except it be of the heart. Ye turn your backs upon the commandment of God while holding fast to the tradition of men.”
“Behold the reviler of the Chosen People and our holy Law,” cried a voice, interrupting. It was that of Saulus. “Men of Israel! I call ye to witness the blasphemy which cometh out of his mouth. He hath spoken against the Temple, and contemned the Holy of Holies which is the dwelling-place of the God of our fathers. He hath extolled the impostor, whom our people, with righteous indignation, crucified in the company of thieves. He profaneth and setteth at naught the circumcision. He revileth all the holy ordinances which were commanded of our fathers, and would turn the Hebrew worship upside down. I adjure ye, O men of Israel! that ye have account of his words, and he shall answer before the Sanhedrin.”
There was great confusion in the assembly; and some were minded to bear Stephanos away by force, and others that he be permitted to speak. He raised his hand as a signal for silence, but the uproar continued. Finding that the tumult could not be quelled, he left the synagogue under the protection of a few apostles of the New Faith, declaring that he would speak further of the coming Dispensation on the morrow.
On the evening of the same day, Saulus received the hearty greetings of his friends at the Sheepmarket. Besides the families of Benoni and the innkeeper, many of the former friends of Saulus, members of the Urim, came to encourage, and if necessary support, their valiant leader in the warfare he had in view. There was a secret gathering of the order the same evening; and it was finally agreed that all would be at the Cyrenian synagogue at the next meeting, and that Stephanos should not be allowed to speak.
After parting with his comrades for the night, Saulus returned to the inn. The evening was sultry; and he went to the house-top to breathe the fresh air, and cool the feverish emotions which stirred him. The moon was full; and the City of David, with the mountains which encompass it, lay spread out in clear outline and dreamy repose. Other persons were scattered in different parts of the commodious resort upon the roof; but as Saulus was in a troubled mood, he sought a retired corner where he could be alone. Absorbing as had been the interest in his people, their religion, and the impending conflict with Stephanos, his thoughts of these things were speedily crowded out by the ever-present image of little Cassia. She had been enshrined in his thoughts so long that she had gained a rightful residence, and he could not dismiss her if he would. She was the unanswered question that stirred his heart, ever pressing for solution, so that it kept his soul in a constant agitation. His ruling aspiration, learning, and leadership in the church of his fathers, nay, his whole character and life, seemed to be merged and transformed into a great passionate longing for the ever-present Ideal which was mirrored in his soul. It was the charming but uncertain centre about which everything else revolved.
The stillness of the starry heavens rebuked the madness of his wild passion, and pleaded eloquently for serenity among the disorderly elements of human attachment; but the appeal was unheeded. The pinions of his soul beat and were wounded against the bars of the cage which hemmed him in. A love so supreme was tyrannical, so that he almost wished to be freed, and that it might all vanish from his breast. He felt oppressed, fevered, and thoroughly enslaved. He leaned forward, bowed his head, and tightly pressed his throbbing brow. A misty, strange vision possessed him. Everything he beheld was being rent in twain. Some Force took hold of him, and he felt as if his own soul were severed and divided. At length he saw Cassia borne away through the air by some implacable Power, but her hands were stretched out imploringly towards him. He unconsciously uttered a deep groan, and the intensity of his agony aroused him. A quick, light step, and some one was at his side. He lifted his head, and saw Cassia.
“Art thou ill, Saulus? Behold, I heard thee speak loudly as if in anguish, and thou calledst my name.”
“O Cassia! I had fallen asleep, and dreamed of evil. Regard it not, I pray thee!”
“But, Saulus, thou art pale and trembling. I will bring wine to refresh thee.”
“Nay, I want for nothing but peace and rest, and they can come only of the Future.”
“I would give thee comfort, Saulus. Behold thou didst call my name! Wast thou dreaming of me?”
“Little Cassia! I had a vision that some fateful Power was bearing thee away, and as we were separated thou didst stretch out thy hands imploringly toward me. What meaneth the vision? Is it that we must part?”
“O Saulus! Knowest thou not that it was but an idle dream?”
“But thou only canst interpret it. Behold, O little Cassia, thy image abideth in my soul. I love thee! Wouldst thou be parted from me? Does another possess thy heart? Heaven grant that my fears have been idle concerning thee!”
Cassia, with her pale face full in the moonlight, and her large eyes bedewed like morning flowers, listened as he poured out his heart. At length her lips moved.
“O Saulus! I love no one else! Throughout all thy absence thou hast been dear to me! Thy image hath been enshrined in my soul! My dear Saulus”—but her emotion was too powerful for further words.
She bent her bright young face upon his shoulder, and the feeling that her love was now free to show itself was like the breaking of a great barrier. Her voice was choked, and her heart beat wildly.
Saulus put his arm gently around her light form, and looking up, said,—
“Heaven bless the day when first I saw thee!”
The orb of night hath looked down upon many such scenes among the children of men.
* * * * * * * * * *
There was a few moments of silence, for the overcharged souls were too full for utterance. Happiness, sweet and irresistible, unchangeable and forever, was assured. The shining firmament above their heads was now echoing a great benediction, and the dread vision of an hour before had dissolved and was forgotten. Nothing henceforth could rend such a cementing of affection. They were one in love, motive, and religion; and there was but a single dream of the future. At length the agitation with which their souls had been surcharged was calmed, and a mystical and indescribable repose was borne in upon them. Not merely their own hearts, but the silvery sheen of the moonlight upon them, the still night air around them, yea, the whole universe, spoke of love; and there was no other language.
* * * * * * * * * *
Not until they were about to part did their thoughts descend to things mundane, or even to the stirring religious events of the day, or those which the morrow might bring forth.
“I had delight in thy valiant defence of our holy religion in the synagogue,” said Cassia. “I watched thee through the lattice, and rejoiced in every word thou didst utter. I am exalted to possess the love of one who is so loyal to our people. Thou art strong to bring the false teachers and all our enemies to naught.”
“I am doubly rewarded by thy favor in my chosen work.”
Changed was the world, religion, life, and the future to both at the close of that evening upon the house-top.
CHAPTER XVII
A ROMAN PARADE
“Roomy Eternity
Casts her schemes rarely,
And an æon allows
For each quality and part
Of the multitudinous
And many-chambered heart.”
The spread of the New Faith, and the hold that it took upon increasing numbers of the common people of the Holy City, furnishes a wonderful illustration of the inner power of a simple, spiritual religion. Its purity and depth were outwardly manifested by the general subordination among its followers of the strongest of all human passions,—selfishness. They were so filled with the spirit of brotherhood that they counted it a privilege to put their possessions into the common stock, in order to give to each one as he had need. There was no forced or legal communism, but a voluntary local and temporary dominance of the great future human Ideal. The law of the inherent blessedness of giving out—whether of spiritual or material treasure—was practically realized, and the harmonizing and uplifting power of a true reciprocity proven. The exercise of a helpful ministry marked a real nobility and greatness, and its activities of relief and healing make up a unique epoch in human history.
Wherever religion has dropped from simplicity and spirituality, and become scholastic, dogmatic, ceremonial, or a matter of the State, it has lost its power to mould life, and heal the weaknesses and disorders of mind and body. With almost no organization, system, or theology, there was a dynamic quality among the primitive believers, the phenomena of which are worthy of the study of every one who would fathom the divine economy of man. A gospel, or “Godspel,” was manifested. The joy and gladness which came from a demonstration of the practical working of the divine spirit in humanity was the natural fruit of a release from the shackles of a dead ceremonialism. It was a spontaneous outburst of what before had been within, but latent.
The divine, unchangeable Perfection had not changed or improved in the “pouring out” of the Spirit, but human receptivity was newly and voluntarily opened. Religion, as a spiritual life, introduces a practical oneness with, and re-enforcement of, divinity in man, which fruits in “wonderful works” as a natural and orderly articulation. The bestowment of spiritual favor on the Godward side can never be less than full and perfect, else would there be variableness and uncertainty. Law, which is divine method, is as reliable in the spiritual as the material realm; and the same compliance with its orderly activity and employment will forever bring like results. The “signs that follow them who believe” will never fail, but belief in this sense signifies a spiritual understanding deeper than mere intellectual assent. A renewal of the marvellous “works” of the Primitive Church will come whenever a like spiritual dominance over external conditions is gained. Chronology changes no law of Being. The divine economy, being eternally perfect, is not subject to the wavering moods of human vacillation. They must conform to it, and not it to them. Then, as man comes into at-one-ment with divine laws and forces, he is backed by their energy, and commands their accomplishments. The New Dispensation was new only to the awareness of man. The variation of personal standpoint makes a seeming movement of the whole divine Order.
Serenus had been long ripening for the conditions which came into outward exercise so spontaneously among the primitive believers. In the earlier part of his life, while among the Essenes and Therapeutæ, he had witnessed much of the power which is linked to spiritual devotion, and participated measurably in it. His transparent character and inner development, with the active exercise of a healing ministry, had marked him as rare in attainment while young in years. But during his connection with the school of Gamaliel, these qualities were somewhat quiescent, while a more distinctive intellectual development was taking place. But under the influence of the new movement his spiritual forces came to the front in full measure. He was everywhere active in healing the sick, strengthening the weak, instructing the ignorant, and sowing the seed for a spiritual harvest. His miracles of healing came from an intelligent wielding of the divine potencies, which, unrecognized and latent, dwell in the inmost of every human “image of God.”
In the early morning of the day after the meeting in the Cyrenian synagogue, there was a street parade of Roman legionaries, as was usual at short intervals, that the people of Jerusalem might have constantly before their eyes the tokens of imperial dominion. The imposing military column started from the Tower of Antonia, and after marching around a long circuit, passed through the Square of the Sheepmarket on its return. Most of the Jews, especially the better classes, resolutely kept out of sight, with every portal and window closed, as the hated Romans passed by. But to the rabble, music and pageantry were attractive. The blare of trumpets signalled their approach. In advance was a vanguard of spearmen, with gilded helmets, mailed breastplates, and shields upon the left arm, marching with a rhythm so perfect that they seemed like a huge machine, working with automatic regularity and perfection. The bronzed faces, brown, muscular limbs, and mailed armor, with their exact mechanical swing, made them seem more like men of iron than of flesh. Then came the ensigns, with banners and pennants floating in air, and in their midst, upon a tall rod, an emblematic gilded eagle with outstretched wings. Next were bowmen and slingers in close column of ranks and files, stretching out far in the distance. Then a group of mounted officers, commanders of cohorts, and centurions with a guard, and long array of cavalry, all speaking eloquently of the heavy mailed hand of Cæsar. The huzzas of the soldiers were often answered by the hisses and sneers of the onlookers, but outbreaks were not frequent. But as they passed the inn of the Sheepmarket, Rabbi Abdiel looked down upon them from the roof, and with a sudden impulse raised his arms toward heaven, and in a loud voice called down upon the moving mass the curses of Jehovah. At first the soldiers gave no attention to his maledictions except to send up a few jeers and shouts of derision; but as he continued, a centurion below gave an order to a rank of soldiers,—
“Enter and seize the Jewish dog! To the Tower with him!”
This was done, and the location of the offending inn noted. But there was no halt of the long, glittering column, which continued its winding march until it passed over the great drawbridge, and was lost to sight as it entered the broad frowning portal of Antonia.
Upon his return, the Commandant of the Tower found a little deputation awaiting him with a petition. They were members of the congregation of the New Faith, who having heard that a tumult was probable at the Cyrenian synagogue, and that the young deacon Stephanos was in danger, asked for the protection of the Roman authorities. The request was heard, but refused, and they were flippantly dismissed.
“By Bacchus!” said the Commandant. “We are not here to take account of all your hair-splitting religious quarrels and tumults. We understand them not, and have no care for them so long as Cæsar’s prerogatives are unquestioned. Fight out your own differences! Your petition doth not concern us!”
At a later hour the meeting at the synagogue was to take place. Long before the time, the room was crowded to the utmost, and a dense throng gathered in the streets outside. There was an air of unwonted excitement and expectation. Wild rumors had flown thick and fast, that Stephanos would boldly attack the whole ceremonial system, and that there was a strong faction organized for resistance. It was said that if he offended they might forcibly bring him before the Sanhedrin, which would be in special session.
The meeting opened. Stephanos arose calmly, and, after reading a few passages from the prophets, began his address,—
“Brethren and friends! Again with joy I proclaim unto you the first fruits of the New Dispensation of the Spirit of Truth. The Word of the Lord is increased; and mighty works, signs, and ministries are being wrought in our midst. From out of the dead works of your ordinances and traditions there has sprung a New Faith, even that proclaimed by the Nazarene, who rebuked your hypocrisy, and laid the foundation of an unseen and universal spiritual kingdom. Lo! as he hath prophesied, the Spirit is ‘poured out,’ and many not of the Levitical order are inspired to teach and preach.”
As Stephanos continued, he waxed eloquent, and spake with great vigor. It seemed not to be the young man himself who was speaking, but some mighty power which was manifested through him. A Spirit was within which was so intense that it shone through his face, and his words were so powerful that his hearers were spellbound.
But the spell was broken by a signal which was at once followed by a fierce rush upon the platform. The bustling form of Saulus, with fiery face, flashing eyes, and clinched fists, was in the midst; and above the noise of the uproar his loud voice echoed through the synagogue,—
“Seize the traitor! Down with the blasphemer! Drag him out! To the Sanhedrin! To the Sanhedrin!”
The members of the Society of the Urim were in the forefront; and besides, there had gathered a rabble from the streets who were eager to join the mob. A little band of the disciples of the New Faith clustered about Stephanos with devoted and loving faithfulness, but acted only as a defensive shield, and were soon borne down by the force and ferocity of greatly superior numbers. Amid wild shouts and confusion the little band was scattered, and Stephanos seized and taken out of the synagogue.
“Ha! Where is the great kingdom? Hath it been set up? Where is its throne?” said Saulus. “We shall make short work of thee and all thy kind! Come on, witnesses! To the Sanhedrin! To the Sanhedrin!”
Stephanos was dragged up the steep road to the “Hall of Squares,” where the august court was in session. On the way he made no resistance, and amid jeers, savage yells, and curses, was led along. With loud commands, Saulus headed the throng.
The seventy-one members of the Sanhedrin were seated at the farther end of the spacious hall, in tiers of seats rising from the centre, and sweeping around in an imposing semicircle. Annas was High Priest and presiding officer on this occasion. They had been apprised of the fact that Stephanos would be brought before them, and were ready to receive him. He was led in by Saulus and the witnesses; as many of the throng following as could find room in the public part of the hall. Everything was ready, and pointed to a foregone conclusion. The charges were made; and the witnesses stood up, one by one, to confront and make testimony against their victim.
“I heard him speak against the Holy Place, and blaspheme the Law.”
“I heard him declare that the doctrine of the Nazarene would destroy the Temple service, and do away with the Law of Moses.”
“I heard him say that he despised our sacred traditions and ordinances.”
“I heard him call our chief priests and Rabbis hypocrites, and speak of a new kingdom not of the Chosen People.”
“I heard him proclaim the Messiahship of the Galilean pretender, and blaspheme Jehovah.”
“I heard him speak against the Circumcision, and call the Nazarene the Son of God.”
Then the High Priest, clothed in the imposing robes of his office, arose, and waving his hand, asked Stephanos to plead by answering the formal and customary question, “Are these things so?”
Stephanos arose to make answer. Young, handsome, and tall, with dignified manner, he wore an unwonted grandeur in looks, words, and action. He began an eloquent oration. As he proceeded, he seemed transfigured by an inner consciousness which fairly illumined his countenance. He looked his accusers in the face, and they quailed before him. Even the fevered and fierce glance of Saulus was cast down when the penetrating look of the saint was turned upon him. A marvellous inner light shone out through his face, which entirely transformed its expression. It was heavenly, rather than defiant, but to the onlookers it was awful. While it radiated love and spiritual exaltation, to them it was threatening and terrible. Overshadowed by the Shekinah, there was an intangible halo about him, in which they saw mirrored their own guilt and condemnation. As he continued, a raging passion boiled in their hearts, even though for a time they were spellbound. His amazing courage and stinging truthfulness were paralyzing, and they could no longer look upon that terrible face.
At length Stephanos stopped short in his unanswerable argument, and there was a moment of silence. Then he gathered up the full measure of his righteous wrath, and hurled it in their indignant but shrinking faces. He denounced them as betrayers and murderers, and lashed them with invective, terrible but true. Then the awful spell was broken, and their pent-up hatred burst all bonds. The wonted sedate and dignified Sanhedrin exploded with anger. Unable longer to maintain any semblance of judicial procedure, they waxed hot, gnashed their teeth, clinched their fists, and hissed and howled like wild beasts.
Traitor! Blasphemer! Slanderer! Reprobate! Heretic! were some of the names that were hurled at Stephanos from all directions. He was not abashed, but the burst of holy indignation which had gone forth from him was ended. It was aimed at their actions and customs rather than themselves. Though severe, it was not vindictive or intended for insult, but awakening. But reason was unavailing. Righteousness is a standing menace and rebuke to guilt. Nothing can be more hateful.
Stephanos lifted his eyes from the malignant faces, rendered demoniacal by surging passion, and looked up as if in a trance. The Sanhedrin, with all its bitterness, faded from his sight, and became to him as though it were not. An ecstasy was upon him, and he saw a beatific vision. While the human wild beasts around him growled and thirsted for his blood, his eyes were fastened upon a realm of eternal peace, harmony, and glory. His sublime and all-powerful faith ushered him into the kingdom of the Real, while the temporary and incidental shrank to their relative nothingness.
The Sanhedrin regarded itself as eminent, respectable, and humane, but its members were utterly unable to cognize the truth that was clear and open to Stephanos. To them their anger was a righteous anger, which exercised itself in the service of Jehovah. The psychological wave of rage swept every member of the Jewish High Court off his feet, and bore him on. But were they sinners above other men? History before and since teems with like transactions, among all nations, and in the name of all religions.
Stephanos had spoken against things which were sacred and infallible. It was not alone his burning eloquence, but its terrible truth, that cut them to the heart and made their blood boil. But now his animate body was yet in their midst, but he was no longer there. He was listening to a heavenly harmony, and not to a deafening clamor. Expecting him to continue, they had stopped their ears to shut out his polluting blasphemy. Then, with one impulse, they arose in a mass, and rushed upon him. Their decision was spontaneous, and without any legal formality or deliberation. They dragged him away to be stoned outside the city gate. The spirit of persecution transformed the dignified Sanhedrin into a revengeful mob.
Saulus prompted the witnesses when they gave testimony, and when the explosion occurred was among the foremost. In the rush that was made from the hall to the street his diminutive form was at the front, and with glowing face and violent gestures he urged on their impetuous movement. As they passed along the streets toward the Damascus Gate, they were joined by great masses of excited men, women, and children. Stephanos made no resistance. Shouts and imprecations filled the air. The members of the New Faith, being few in number and non-resistant in their philosophy of living, made no opposition. No herald preceded him to proclaim his name and crime as was usual in regular cases of legal condemnation. No bitter draft containing frankincense to stupefy the senses, and take away the edge of pain and terror, was administered, and none was needed. Stephanos could not suffer; for he was already in the midst of spiritual liberty, joy, and peace. The seething mob hurried his animate form along, and passed out to the north of the city to a piece of open ground on the border of the valley of Jehoshaphat.
Stephanos calmly kneeled down without being bound or fastened, still looking up and beholding a vision of glory. His upper garments were stripped off; and then, for the first time, a regular proceeding was observed, in that the witnesses were to cast the first stones. At length all was ready, and for a moment there was a silence which was oppressive. Stretching out his hands toward his murderers, he besought from above their forgiveness, and gave them his benediction. The stillness continued, the witnesses were spellbound, and the throng awed and immovable. The supreme grandeur and spiritual beauty that shone through his face dazzled and benumbed them, and almost deterred them from their purpose. There was a visible shrinking, and each waited for the other to make the first move. But Saulus sprang forth and broke the spell. With frantic manner and loud voice, he cried,—
“To your work, O witnesses! Finish the Blasphemer! Heresy must be crushed! Hand me your garments that nothing may encumber, and cursed be he who holds back.”
The tragedy was soon ended.
The body sank to earth, its resting-place;
Not so the man. He lives to truth and right.
He flung behind all strife, and in the race
Mounts on and up, though lost to mortal sight.
The crowd soon melted away; and many seemed fearful, oppressed, and ashamed of their part in the transaction. Even those members of the Sanhedrin who had accompanied the throng were troubled in spirit, and made haste to get away. But Saulus was undaunted, and returned exultant and proud. He made his way back to the Sheepmarket; but the news had preceded him, and as he entered the inn he received the congratulations of all except Rebecca.
In the evening of the same day the little group met in the court as was wont. Rabbi Abdiel was of the number, having been released from the Tower.
“Thy day’s work hath been well done,” said the venerable Jew. “We would that such things need not be, but heresy must be destroyed. Mercy to our people and their precious traditions demands that false doctrine be uprooted, and that without remedy. Such is the will of the Lord.”
“I am persuaded that this pestilent delusion must be put down at once,” replied Saulus, “or peradventure it will spread beyond all bounds. I shall take up the work with power, and the High Priest and the whole Sanhedrin will give me all authority. I glory in the effectual door that is open unto me whereby I may do such service.”
“These are tumultuous days,” said Benoni. “I had not believed that my eyes would behold such things in the Holy City, but anon they wax worse and worse. But it is expedient that thou continue as thou hast begun.”