Joel: A Boy of Galilee Read online

  CHAPTER XII.

  IT was with a deep feeling of relief that the two families watched theMaster go away into Perea. Phineas still kept with Him. As the littleband disappeared down the street, Ruth hid her face in her mother'sdress and began to cry.

  "I don't want my father to go away again!" she sobbed. Abigail took herin her lap and tried to comfort her, although there were tears in herown eyes.

  "We will go home soon, little daughter, and then father will be with usall the time. But we must wait first, till after the cold, rainy season,and the Feast of Dedication."

  "What! another feast?" asked Jesse, to whom the summer had seemed onelong confusion of festivals. "Don't they have lots of them down in thiscountry! What's this one for?"

  "Grandfather will tell you," answered his mother. "Run out and ask himfor the story. I know you will like it."

  Seated on his grandfather's knee, Jesse doubled up his little fists, ashe heard how a heathen altar had once been set up on the great altar ofburnt-offering, and a heathen general had driven a herd of swine throughthe holy Temple, making it unclean. But his breath came quick, and hiseyes shone, as the proud old Israelite told him of Judas the Maccabee,Judas the lion-hearted, who had whipped the Syrian soldiers, purifiedthe Temple, and dedicated it anew to the worship of Jehovah.

  "Our people never forget their heroes," ended the old man. "Every year,in every home, no matter how humble, one candle is lighted at thebeginning of the feast; the next night, two, and the next night, three,and so on, till eight candles shine out into the winter darkness.

  "For so the brave deeds of the Maccabees burn in the memory of everychild of Abraham!"

  The feast came and went. While the candles burned in every home, and thegolden lamps in the great Temple blazed a welcome, the Nazarene cameback to His Father's house, to be once more about His Father's business.

  Joel caught a glimpse of Him walking up and down the covered porches infront of the Gate Beautiful. The next moment he was pushing andelbowing his way through the jostling crowds, till he stood close besideHim.

  After that, the services that followed were a blank. He saw only oneface,--the face that had looked into his beside the Galilee, and drawnfrom his heart its intensest love. He heard only one voice,--the voicehe had longed for all these weeks and days. Just to be near Him! To beable to reach out reverent fingers and only touch the clothes He wore;to look up in His face, and look and look with a love that neverwearied,--that was such happiness that Joel was lost to everything else!

  But after a while he began to realize that it was for no friendlypurpose that the chief priests came pressing around with questions.

  "If Thou be the Christ, tell us plainly," they demanded. Then up anddown through the long Porch of Solomon, among all its white marblepillars, they repeated His answer:--

  "The works that I do in my Father's name, they bear witness of me. I andmy Father are one!"

  "Blasphemy!" shouted a mocking voice behind Him. "Blasphemy!" echoedPharisee and Sadducee for once agreed. The crowds pushed and shovedbetween the pillars; some ran out for stones. In the confusion of theuproar, as they turned to lay violent hands on Him, He slipped out oftheir midst, and went quietly away.

  Joel hunted around awhile for the party he had come with, but seeingneither Phineas nor Lazarus, started back to Bethany on the run. A coldwinter rain had begun to fall.

  None of Reuben's family had gone into Jerusalem that day on account ofthe weather, but were keeping the feast at home.

  They were startled when the usually quiet boy burst excitedly into thehouse, and told them what he had just seen.

  "O mother Abigail!" he cried, throwing himself on his knees beside her."If He goes away again may I not go with Him? I cannot go back toGalilee and leave Him, unknowing what is to happen. If He is to bepersecuted and driven out, and maybe killed, let me at least share Hissuffering, and be with Him at the last!"

  "You forget that He has all power, and that His enemies can do Him noharm," said Abigail, gently. "Has He not twice walked out unharmed,before their very eyes, when they would have taken Him? And besides whatgood could you do, my boy? You forget you are only a child, and mightnot be able to stand the hardships of such a journey."

  "I am almost fourteen," said Joel, stretching himself up proudly. "And Iam as strong now as some of the men who go with Him. _He_ gave me backmy strength, you know. Oh, you do not know how I love Him!" he cried."When I am away from Him, I feel as you would were you separated fromJesse and Ruth and father Phineas. My heart is always going out afterHim!"

  "Child, have you no care for us?" she responded reproachfully.

  "Oh, do not speak so!" he cried, catching up her hand and kissing it. "I_do_ love you; I can never be grateful enough for all you have done forme. But, O mother Abigail, you could never understand! You were neverlame and felt the power of His healing. You were never burning with awicked hatred, and felt the balm of His forgiveness! You cannotunderstand how He draws me to Him!"

  "Let the boy have his way," spoke up Reuben. "I, too, have felt thatwonderful power that draws all men to Him. Gladly would I part withevery shekel I possess, if I thereby might win Him the favor of theauthorities."

  When once more a little band of fugitives followed their Master acrossthe Jordan, Joel was with them.

  The winter wore away, and they still tarried. Day by day, they werelistening to the simple words that dropped like seeds into theirmemories, to spring up in after months and bear great truths. Now theyheard them as half understood parables,--the good Samaritan, the barrenfig-tree, the prodigal son, the unjust steward.

  There was one story that thrilled Joel deeply,--the story of the lostsheep. For he recalled that stormy night in the sheepfold of Nathan benObed, and the shepherd who searched till dawn for the straying lamb.

  It was only long afterwards that he realized it was the Good ShepherdHimself who told the story, when He was about to lay down His own lifefor the lost sheep of Israel.

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile in Bethany, Rabbi Reuben and his wife rejoiced that theirdaughter's visit stretched out indefinitely.

  Jesse openly declared that he intended to stay there always, and learnto be a goldsmith like his grandfather.

  Ruth, too, was happy and contented, and seemed to have forgotten thatshe ever had any other home. As the early spring days came on, she livedalmost entirely out in the sunshine. She had fallen into the habit ofstanding at the gate to watch for Lazarus every evening when he cameback from the Temple. As soon as she saw him turn the corner into theirstreet, she ran to meet him, her fair curls and white dress flutteringin the wind.

  No matter how tired he was, or what cares rested heavily on his mind,the pale face always lighted up, and his dark eyes smiled at her coming.

  "Lazarus does not seem well, lately," she heard Martha say to her motherone day. "I have been trying to persuade him to rest a few days; but heinsists he cannot until he has finished the scroll he is illuminating."

  A few days after that he did not go to the city as usual. Ruth peepedinto the darkened room where he was resting on a couch; his eyes wereclosed, and he was so pale it almost frightened her.

  He did not hear her when she tiptoed into the room and out again; butthe fragrance of the little stemless rose she laid on his pillow arousedhim. He opened his eyes and smiled languidly, as he caught sight of herslipping noiselessly through the door.

  Her mother, sewing by the window, looked out and saw her running acrossthe street. Jesse was out in front of the house, playing with a ball.

  "Who is that boy talking to Jesse?" asked Abigail of Rebecca, who stoodin the doorway, holding out her arms as Ruth came up.

  "Why, that is little Joseph, the only son of Simon the leper. Poorchild!"

  "Simon the leper," repeated Abigail. "A stranger to me."

  "Surely not. Have you forgotten the wealthy young oil-seller who livednext the synagogue? He has the richest olive groves in this part of thec
ountry."

  "Not the husband of my little playmate Esther!" cried Abigail. "Surelyhe has not been stricken with leprosy!"

  "Yes; it is one of the saddest cases I ever heard of. It seems soterrible for a man honored as he has been, and accustomed to everyluxury, to be such a despised outcast."

  "Poor Esther!" sighed Abigail. "Does she ever see him?"

  "Not now. The disease is fast destroying him; and he is such a hideoussight that he has forbidden her to ever try to see him again. Even hisvoice is changed. Of course he would be stoned if he were to come back.He never seeks the company of other lepers. She has had a room built forhim away from the sight of men. Every day a servant carries him food andtidings. It is well that they have money, or he would be obliged to liveamong the tombs with others as repulsive-looking as himself, and suchcompany must certainly be worse than none. Sometimes little Joseph istaken near enough to speak to him, that he may have the poor comfort ofseeing his only child at a distance."

  "What if it were my Phineas!" exclaimed Abigail, her tears dropping faston the needlework she held. "Oh, it is a thousand times worse thandeath!"

  Out in the street the boys were making each other's acquaintance in theoff-hand way boys of that age have.

  "My name is Jesse. What's yours?"

  "Joseph."

  "Where do you live?"

  "Around the corner, next to the synagogue."

  "My father is a carpenter. What's yours?"

  Joseph hesitated. "He used to be an oil-seller," he said finally. "Hedoesn't do anything now."

  "Why?" persisted Jesse.

  "He is a leper now," was the reluctant answer.

  A look of distress came over Jesse's face. He had seen some lepers once,and the sight was still fresh in his mind. As they were riding down fromGalilee, Joel had pointed them out to him. A group of beggars withhorrible scaly sores that had eaten away their flesh, till some wereleft without lips or eyelids; one held out a deathly white hand fromwhich nearly all the fingers had dropped. Their hair looked like whitewire, and they called out, in shrill, cracked voices, "Unclean! Unclean!Come not near us!"

  "How terrible to have one's father like that," thought Jesse. A lumpseemed to come up in his throat; his eyes filled with tears at the bareidea. Then, boy-like, he tossed up his ball, and forgot all about it inthe game that followed.

  Several days after he met Joseph and a servant who was carrying a large,covered basket and a water-bottle made of skin.

  "I'm going to see my father, now," said Joseph. "Ask your mother if youcan come with me."

  Jesse started towards his home, then turned suddenly. "No, I'm not goingto ask her, for she'll be sure to say no. I am just going anyhow."

  "You'll catch it when you get home!" exclaimed Joseph.

  "Well, it cannot last long," reasoned Jesse, whose curiosity had gottenthe better of him. "I believe I'd rather take a whipping than not togo."

  Joseph looked at him in utter astonishment.

  "Yes, I would," he insisted; "so come on!"

  A short walk down an unfrequented road, in the direction of Jericho,took them to a lonely place among the bare cliffs. A little cabin stoodclose against the rocks, with a great sycamore-tree bending over it.Near by was the entrance to a deep cave, always as cool as a cellar,even in the hottest summer days.

  At the mouth of the cave sat Simon the leper. He stood up when he sawthem coming, and wrapped himself closely in a white linen mantle thatcovered him from head to foot. It was a ghostly sight to Jesse; but toJoseph, so long accustomed to it, there seemed nothing strange.

  At a safe distance the servant emptied his basket on a large flat rock,and poured the water into a stone jar standing near. Last of all, helaid a piece of parchment on the stone. It was Esther's daily letter toher exiled husband.

  No matter what storms swept the valley, or what duties pressed at home,that little missive was always sent. She had learned to write for hissake. By all his friends he was accounted dead; but her love, strongerthan death, bridged the gulf that separated them. She lived only tominister to his comfort as best she could.

  Simon did not send as long a message in return as this trusted messengerusually carried. He had much to say to his boy, and the sun was alreadyhigh.

  Jesse, lagging behind in the shelter of the rock, heard the tender wordsof counsel and blessing that came from the white-sheeted figure with afeeling of awe.

  As the father urged his boy to be faithful to every little duty, carefulin learning the prayers, and above all obedient to his mother, Jesse'sconscience began to prick him sorely.

  "I believe I know somebody that could cure him," he said, as they pickedtheir way over the rocks, going home. "'Cause He made Joel well."

  "Who's Joel?" asked Joseph.

  "A boy that lives with us. He was just as lame, and limped way over whenhe walked. Now he is as straight as I am. All the sick people where Ilived went to Him, and they got well."

  Joseph shook his head. "Lepers can't be cured. Can they, Seth?" heasked, appealing to the servant.

  "No, lepers are just the same as dead," answered Seth. "There's no helpfor them."

  Jesse was in a very uncomfortable frame of mind, as, hot and dusty, heleft his companion and dragged home at a snail's pace.

  Next morning Joseph was waiting for him out in front. "Well, did shewhip you?" he asked, with embarrassing frankness.

  "No," said Jesse, a little sheepishly. "She put me to bed just as soonas I had eaten my dinner, and made me stay there till this morning."