Joel: A Boy of Galilee

But Phineas had little to tell when he came back. He had met his friend twice in Jerusalem, – the same gentle quiet man he had always known, making no claims, working no wonders. Phineas had heard of His driving the moneychangers out of the Temple one day, and those who sold doves in its sacred courts, although he had not witnessed the scene.

The carpenter was rather surprised that He should have made such a public disturbance.

"Rabbi Phineas," said Joel, with a trembling voice, "don't you think your friend is the prophet we are expecting?"

Phineas shook his head. "No, my lad, I am sure of it now."

"But the herald angels and the star," insisted the boy.

"They must have proclaimed some one else. He is the best man I ever knew; but there is no more of the king in His nature, than there is in mine."

The man's positive answer seemed to shatter Joel's last hope. Downcast and disappointed, he went back to his work. Only with money could he accomplish his life's object, and only by incessant work could he earn the shining shekels that he needed.

Phineas wondered sometimes at the dogged persistence with which the child stuck to his task, in spite of his tired, aching body.

He had learned to make sandal-wood jewel-boxes, and fancifully wrought cups to hold the various dyes and cosmetics used by the ladies of the court.

Several times, during the following months, he begged a sail in some of the fishing-boats that landed at the town of Tiberias. Having gained the favor of the keeper of the gates, by various little gifts of his own manufacture, he always found a ready admittance to the palace.

To the ladies of the court, the sums they paid for his pretty wares seemed trifling; but to Joel the small bag of coins hidden in the folds of his clothes was a little fortune, daily growing larger.

CHAPTER V

IT was Sabbath morning in the house of Laban the Pharisee. Joel, sitting alone in the court-yard, could hear his aunt talking to the smaller children, as she made them ready to take with her to the synagogue.

From the upper chamber on the roof, came also a sound of voices, for two guests had arrived the day before, and were talking earnestly with their host. Joel already knew the object of their visit.

They had been there before, when the preaching of John Baptist had drawn such great crowds from all the cities to the banks of the Jordan. They had been sent out then by the authorities in Jerusalem to see what manner of man was this who, clothed in skins and living in the wilderness, could draw the people so wonderfully, and arouse such intense excitement. Now they had come on a like errand, although on their own authority.

Another prophet had arisen whom this John Baptist had declared to be greater than himself. They had seen Him drive the moneychangers from the Temple; they had heard many wild rumors concerning Him. So they followed Him to His home in the little village of Nazareth, where they heard Him talk in the synagogue.

They had seen the listening crowd grow amazed at the eloquence of His teaching, and then indignant that one so humble as a carpenter's son should claim that Isaiah's prophecies had been fulfilled in Himself.

They had seen Him driven from the home of His boyhood, and now had come to Capernaum that they might be witnesses in case this impostor tried to lead these people astray by repeating His claims.

All this Joel heard, and more, as the earnest voices came distinctly down to him through the deep hush of the Sabbath stillness. It shook his faith somewhat, even in the goodness of this friend of his friend Phineas, that these two learned doctors of the Law should consider Him an impostor.

He stood aside respectfully for them to pass, as they came down the outside stairway, and crossed the court-yard on their way to the morning service.

Their long, flowing, white robes, their broad phylacteries, their dignified bearing, impressed him greatly. He knew they were wise, good men whose only aim in life was to keep the letter of the Law, down to its smallest details. He followed them through the streets until they came to the synagogue. They gave no greeting to any one they passed, but walked with reverently bowed heads that their pious meditation might not be disturbed by the outside world. His aunt had already gone by the way of the back streets, as it was customary for women to go, her face closely veiled.

The synagogue, of finely chiselled limestone, with its double rows of great marble pillars, stood in its white splendor, the pride of the town. It had been built by the commander of the garrison who, though a Roman centurion, was a believer in the God of the Hebrews, and greatly loved by the whole people.

Joel glanced up at the lintel over the door, where Aaron's rod and a pot of manna carved in the stone were constant reminders to the daily worshippers of the Hand that fed and guided them from generation to generation.

Joel limped slowly to his place in the congregation. In the seats of honor, facing it, sat his uncle and his guests, among the rulers of the synagogue.

For a moment his eyes wandered curiously around, hoping for a glimpse of the man whose fame was beginning to spread all over Galilee. It had been rumored that He would be there. But Joel saw only familiar faces. The elders took their seats.

During the reading of the usual psalm, the reciting of a benediction, and even the confession of the creed, Joel's thoughts wandered. When the reader took up his scroll to read the passages from Deuteronomy, the boy stole one more quick glance all around. But as the whole congregation arose, and turned facing the east, he resolutely fixed his mind on the duties of the hour.

The eighteen benedictions, or prayers, were recited in silence by each devout worshipper. Then the leader repeated them aloud, all the congregation responding with their deep Amen! and Amen! Joel always liked that part of the service and the chanting that followed.

Another roll of parchment was brought out. The boy looked up with interest. Probably one of his uncle's guests would be invited to read from it, and speak to the people.

No, it was a stranger whom he had not noticed before, sitting behind one of the tall elders, who was thus honored.

Joel's heart beat so fast that the blood throbbed against his ear-drums, as he heard the name called. It was the friend of his friend Phineas, the Rabbi Jesus.

Joel bent forward, all his soul in his eyes, as the stranger unrolled the book, and began to read from the Prophets. The words were old familiar ones; he even knew them by heart. But never before had they carried with them such music, such meaning. When He laid aside the roll, and began to speak, every fibre in the boy's being thrilled in response to the wonderful eloquence of that voice and teaching.

The whole congregation sat spell-bound, forgetful of everything except the earnestness of the speaker who moved and swayed them as the wind does the waving wheat.

Suddenly there arose a wild shriek, a sort of demon-like howl that transfixed them with its piercing horror. Every one turned to see the cause of the startling sound. There, near the door, stood a man whom they all knew, – an unhappy creature said to be possessed of an unclean spirit.

"Ha!" he cried, in a blood-curdling tone. "What have we to do with Thee, Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to destroy us? I know Thee, who thou art, the holy One of God!"

There was a great stir, especially in the woman's gallery; and those standing nearest him backed away as far as possible.

Every face was curious and excited, at this sudden interruption, – every face but one; the Rabbi Jesus alone was calm.

"Hold thy peace and come out of him!" He commanded. There was one more shriek, worse than before, as the man fell at His feet in a convulsion; but in a moment he stood up again, quiet and perfectly sane. The wild look was gone from his eyes. Whatever had been the strange spell that had bound him before, he was now absolutely free.

There was another stir in the woman's gallery. Contrary to all rule or custom, an aged woman pushed her way out. Down the stairs she went, unveiled through the ranks of the men, to reach her son whom she had just seen restored to reason. With a glad cry she fell forward, fainting, in his arms, and was borne away to the little home, now no longer darkened by the shadow of a sore affliction.

Little else was talked about that day, until the rumor of another miracle began to spread through the town. Phineas, stopping at Laban's house on his way home from an afternoon service, confirmed the truth of it.

One of his neighbors had been dangerously ill with a fever that was common in that part of the country; she was the mother-in-law of Simon bar Jonah. It was at his home that the Rabbi Jesus had been invited to dine.

As soon as He entered the house, they besought Him to heal her. Standing beside her, He rebuked the fever; and immediately she arose, and began to help her daughter prepare for the entertainment of their guest.

"Abigail was there yesterday," said Phineas, "to carry some broth she had made. She thought then it would be impossible for the poor creature to live through the night. I saw the woman a few hours ago, and she is perfectly well and strong."

That night when the sun was setting, and the Sabbath was at an end, a motley crowd streamed along the streets to the door of Simon bar Jonah. Men carried on couches; children in their mother's arms; those wasted by burning fevers; those shaken by unceasing palsy; the lame; the blind; the death-stricken, – all pressing hopefully on.

What a scene in that little court-yard as the sunset touched the wan faces and smiled into dying eyes. Hope for the hopeless! Balm for the broken in body and spirit! There was rejoicing in nearly every home in Capernaum that night, for none were turned away. Not one was refused. It is written, "He laid His hand on every one of them, and healed them."

That he might not seem behind his guests in zeal and devotion to the Law, the dignified Laban would not follow the crowds.

"Let others be carried away by strange doctrines and false prophets, if they will," he declared; "as for me and my household, we will cling to the true faith of our fathers."

So the three sat in the upper chamber on the roof, and discussed the new teacher with many shakes of their wise heads.

"It is not lawful to heal on the Sabbath day," they declared. "Twice during the past day He has openly transgressed the Law. He will lead all Galilee astray!"

But Galilee cared little how far the path turned from the narrow faith of the Pharisees, so long as it led to life and healing.

Down in the garden below, the children climbed up on the grape-arbor, and peered through the vines at the surging crowds which they would have joined, had it not been for Laban's strict commands.

One by one they watched people whom they knew go by, some carried on litters, some leaning on the shoulders of friends. One man crawled painfully along on his hands and knees.

After awhile the same people began to come back.

"Look, quick, Joel!" one of the children cried; "there goes Simon ben Levi. Why, his palsy is all gone! He doesn't shake a bit now! And there's little Martha that lives out near Aunt Rebecca's! Don't you know how white and thin she looked when they carried her by a little while ago? See! she is running along by herself now as well as we are!"

The children could hardly credit their own sense of sight, when neighbors they had known all their lives to be bed-ridden invalids came back cured, singing and praising God.

It was a sight they never could forget. So they watched wonderingly till darkness fell, and the last happy-hearted healed one had gone home to a rejoicing household.

While the fathers on the roof were deciding they would have naught of this man, the children in the grape-arbor were storing up in their simple little hearts these proofs of his power and kindness.

Then they gathered around Joel on the doorstep, while he repeated the story that the old shepherd Heber had told him, of the angels and the star, and the baby they had worshipped that night in Bethlehem.

"Come, children," called his Aunt Leah, as she lit the lamp that was to burn all night. "Come! It is bed-time!"

His cousin Hannah lingered a moment after the others had gone in, to say, "That was a pretty story, Joel. Why don't you go and ask the good man to straighten your back?"

Strange as it may seem, this was the first time the thought had occurred to him that he might be benefited himself. He had been so long accustomed to thinking of himself as hopelessly lame, that the wonderful cures he had witnessed had awakened no hope for himself. A new life seemed to open up before him at the little girl's question. He sat on the doorstep thinking about it until his Uncle Laban came down and crossly ordered him to go to bed.

He went in, saying softly to himself, "I will go to him to-morrow; yes, early in the morning!"

Strange that an old proverb should cross his mind just then. "Boast not thyself of to-morrow. Thou knowest not what a day may bring forth."

CHAPTER VI

WHEN Joel went out on the streets next morning, although it was quite early, he saw a disappointed crowd coming up from the direction of Simon's house on the lake shore.

"Where have all these people been?" he asked of the baker's boy, whom he ran against at the first corner.

The boy stopped whistling, and rested his basket of freshly baked bread against his knee, as he answered: —

"They were looking for the Rabbi who healed so many people last night. Say! do you know," he added quickly, as if the news were too good to keep, "he healed my mother last night. You cannot think how different it seems at home, to have her going about strong and well like she used to be."

Joel's eyes brightened. "Do you think he'll do anything for me, if I go to him now?" he asked wistfully. "Do you suppose he could straighten out such a crooked back as mine? Look how much shorter this leg is than the other. Oh, do you think he could make them all right?"

The boy gave him a critical survey, and then answered, emphatically, "Yes! It really does not look like it would be as hard to straighten you as old Jeremy, the tailor's father. He was twisted all out of shape, you know. Well, I'll declare! There he goes now!"

Joel looked across the street. The wrinkled face of the old basket-weaver was a familiar sight in the market; but Joel could hardly recognize the once crippled form, now restored to its original shapeliness.

"I am going right now," he declared, starting to run in his excitement. "I can't wait another minute."

"But he's gone!" the boy called after him. "That's why the people are all coming back."

Joel sat down suddenly on a ledge projecting from the stone-wall. "Gone!" he echoed drearily. It was as if he had been starving, and the life-giving food held to his famished lips had been suddenly snatched away. Both his heart and his feet felt like lead when he got up after awhile, and dragged himself slowly along to the carpenter's house.

It was such a bitter disappointment to be so near the touch of healing, and then to miss it altogether.

No cheerful tap of the hammer greeted him. The idle tools lay on the deserted workbench. "Disappointed again!" he thought. Then the doves cooed, and he caught a glimpse of Ruth's fair hair down among the garden lilies.

"Where is your father, little one?" he called.

"Gone away wiv 'e good man 'at makes everybody well," she answered. Then she came skipping down the path to stand close beside him, and say confidentially: "I saw Him – 'e good man – going by to Simon's house. I peeped out 'tween 'e wose-vines, and He looked wite into my eyes wiv His eyes, and I couldn't help loving Him!"

Joel looked into the beautiful baby face, thinking what a picture it must have made, as framed in roses it smiled out on the Tender-hearted One, going on His mission of help and healing.

With her little hand in his, she led him back to hope, for she took him to her mother, who comforted him with the assurance that Phineas expected to be home soon, and doubtless his friend would be with him.

So there came another time to work by himself and dream of the hour surely dawning. And the dreams were doubly sweet now; for side by side with his hope of revenge, was the belief in his possible cure.

They heard only once from the absent ones. Word came back that a leper had been healed. Joel heard it first, down at the custom-house. He had gotten into the way of strolling down in that direction after his work was done; for here the many trading-vessels from across the lake, or those that shipped from Capernaum, had to stop and pay duty. Here, too, the great road of Eastern commerce passed which led from Damascus to the harbors of the West. So here he would find a constant stream of travellers, bringing the latest news from the outside world.

The boy did not know, as he limped up and down the water's edge, longing for some word from his absent friends, that near by was one who watched almost as eagerly as himself.

It was Levi-Matthew, one of the officials, sitting in the seat of custom. Sprung from the same priestly tribe as Joel, he had sunk so low, in accepting the office of tax-gatherer, that the righteous Laban would not have touched him so much as with the tip of his sandal.

"Bears and lions," said a proverb, "might be the fiercest wild beasts in the forests; but publicans and informers were the worst in cities."

One could not bear witness in the courts, and the disgrace extended to the whole family. They were even classed with robbers and murderers. No doubt there was deep cause for such a feeling; as a class they were unscrupulous and unjust. There might have been good ones among their number, but the company they kept condemned them to the scorn of high and low.

When a Jew hates, or a Jew scorns, be sure it is thoroughly done; there is no half-way course for his intense nature to take.

So this son of Levi, sitting in the seat of custom, and this son of Levi strolling past him, were, socially, as far apart as the east is from the west, – as unlike as thorn and blossom on the same tribal stem.

Matthew knew all the fishermen and ship-owners that thronged the busy beach in front of him. The sons of Jonah and of Zebedee passed him daily; and he must have wondered when he saw them throw down their nets and leave everything to follow a stranger.

He must have wondered also at the reports on every tongue, and the sights he had seen himself of miraculous healing. But while strangely drawn towards this new teacher from Nazareth, it could have been with no thought that the hand and the voice were for him. He was a publican, and how could they reach to such depths?

A caravan had just stopped. The pack-animals were being unloaded, bales and packages opened, private letters pried into. The insolent officials were tossing things right and left, as they made a list of the taxable goods.

Joel was watching them with as much interest as if he had not witnessed such scenes dozens of times before, till he noticed a group gathering around one of the drivers. He was telling what he had seen on his way to Capernaum. Several noisy companions kept interrupting him to bear witness to the truth of his statements.

"And he who but a moment before had been the most miserable of lepers stood up before us all, cleansed of his leprosy. His skin was soft and fair as a child's, and his features were restored to him," said the driver.

Joel and Levi-Matthew stood side by side. At another time the boy might have drawn his clothes away to keep from brushing against the despised tax-gatherer. But he never noticed now that their elbows touched.

When he had heard all there was to be told, he limped away to carry the news to Abigail. To know that others were being cured daily made him all the more impatient for the return of this friend of Phineas.

The publican turned again to his pen and his account-book. He, too, looked forward with a burning heart to the return of the Nazarene, unknowing why he did so.

At last Joel heard of the return, in a very unexpected way. There were guests in the house of Laban again. One of the rabbis who had been there before, and a scribe from Jerusalem. Now there were longer conferences in the upper chamber, and graver shakings of the head, over this false prophet whose fame was spreading wider.

The miracle of healing the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda, when he had gone down to Jerusalem to one of the many feasts, had stirred Judea to its farthest borders. So these two men had been sent to investigate.

On the very afternoon of their arrival, a report flew through the streets that the Rabbi Jesus was once more in the town. Their host led them with all the haste their dignity would allow, to the house where He was said to be preaching. The common people fell back when they saw them, and allowed them to pass into the centre of the throng.

The Rabbi stood in the doorway, so that both those in the house and without could distinctly hear Him. The scribe had never seen Him before, and in spite of his deep-seated prejudice could not help admiring the man whom he had come prepared to despise. It was no wild fanatic who stood before him, no noisy debater whose fiery eloquence would be likely to excite and inflame His hearers.

He saw a man of gentlest dignity; truth looked out from the depths of His calm eyes. Every word, every gesture, carried with it the conviction that He who spoke taught with God-given authority.

The scribe began to grow uneasy as he listened, carried along by the earnest tones of the speaker.

There was a great commotion on the edge of the crowd, as some one tried to push through to the centre.

"Stand back! Go away!" demanded angry voices.

The scribe was a tall man, and by stretching a little, managed to see over the heads of the others. Four men, bearing a helpless paralytic, were trying to carry him through the throngs; but they would not make room for this interruption.

After vainly hunting for some opening through which they might press, the men mounted the steep, narrow staircase on the outside of the building, and drew the man up, hammock and all, to the flat roof on which they stood.

There was a sound of scraping and scratching as they broke away the brush and mortar that formed the frail covering of the roof. Then the people in the room below saw slowly coming down upon them between the rafters, this man whom no obstacle could keep back from the Great Physician.

But the paralyzed hands could not lift themselves in supplication; the helpless tongue could frame no word of pleading, – only the eyes of the sick man could look up into the pitying face bent over him, and implore a blessing.

The scribe leaned forward, confidently expecting to hear the man bidden to arise. To his surprise and horror, the words he heard were: "Son, thy sins be forgiven thee!"

He looked at Laban and his companion, and the three exchanged meaning glances. When they looked again at the speaker, His eyes seemed to read their inmost thoughts.

"Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts?" He asked, with startling distinctness. "Whether is it easier to say to the sick of the palsy, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk? But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins," here He turned to the helpless form lying at His feet, "I say unto thee, Arise, and take up thy bed, and go thy way unto thine house."

The man bounded to his feet, and picking up the heavy rug on which he had been lying, went running and leaping out of their midst.

Without a word, Laban and his two guests drew their clothes carefully around them, and picked their way through the crowd. Phineas, who stood at the gate, gave them a respectful greeting. Laban only turned his eyes away with a scowl, and passed coldly on.

"The man is a liar and a blasphemer!" exclaimed the scribe, as they sat once more in the privacy of Laban's garden.

"Only God can forgive sins!" added his companion. "This paralytic should have taken a sin-offering to the priest. For only by the blood of sacrifice can one hope to obtain pardon."