Authors: Unknown
'You can see that I wanted to come back.' Marcellus drew his chair
closer.
'And now that you're here'--Miriam smiled into his eyes
companionably--'what shall we talk about first?'
'I am much interested in the story of that carpenter who did so many
things for your people.'
Miriam's eyes widened happily.
'I knew it!' she cried.
'How could you have known it?' wondered Marcellus.
'Oh, by lots of little things--strung together. You knew nothing about
textiles, nor does good old Justus, for that matter. You have had no experience
in bargaining. It was clear that you were in Galilee on some other errand.'
'True--but what made you think I was interested in Jesus?'
'Your choosing Justus to conduct you. He saw as much of Jesus as anyone,
except Simon and the Zebedee boys who were with him constantly. But you had me
quite mystified.' She shook her head and laughed softly. 'Romans are under
suspicion. I couldn't understand why Justus had consented to come up here with
you. Then it came out that you knew the Greek who works for Benyosef. He must
have planned your meeting with Justus, for surely that was no accident! The men
who frequent Benyosef's shop are friends of Jesus. So, I added it all up and--'
'And concluded that I had employed Justus to inform me about Jesus,'
interposed Marcellus. 'Well, your deduction is correct, though I must say that
Justus seems to know a great deal that he isn't confiding in me.'
'Have you told him why you are interested in Jesus?' Miriam studied his
eyes as she waited for his reply.
'Not fully,' admitted Marcellus, after some hesitation. 'But he is not
suspicious of my motives.'
'Perhaps if you would tell Justus exactly how you happened to become
interested in Jesus, he might be more free to talk,' suggested Miriam; and when
Marcellus failed to respond promptly, she added, 'I am full of curiosity about
that, myself.'
'That's a long story, Miriam,' muttered Marcellus, soberly.
'I have plenty of time,' she said. 'Tell me, Marcellus.'
'A year ago, I was in Jerusalem, on business--' he began, rather
uncertainly.
'But not buying homespun,' she interjected, when he paused.
'It was government business,' Marcellus went on. 'I was there only a few
days. During that time, there was a considerable stir over the arrest of this
Galilean on a charge of treason. I was present at the trial when he was
sentenced to death. It seemed clear that the man was innocent. The Procurator
himself said so. I had much difficulty putting the matter out of my mind.
Everything indicated that Jesus was a remarkable character. So, when I had
occasion to come to Jerusalem again, this spring, I decided to spend a few days
in Galilee, and learn something more about him.'
'What was it, about Jesus, that so deeply impressed you?' Miriam's tone
entreated full confidence.
'His apparently effortless courage, I think,' said Marcellus. 'They were
all arrayed against him--the Government, the Temple, the merchants, the
bankers, the influential voices, the money. Not a man spoke in his behalf. His
friends deserted him. And yet--in the face of cruel abuse--with a lost cause,
and certain death confronting him--he was utterly fearless.' There was a
thoughtful pause. 'It was impossible not to have a deep respect for a person of
that fibre. I have had an immense curiosity to know what manner of man he was.'
Marcellus made a little gesture to signify that he had ended his explanation.
'That wasn't such a very long story, after all, Marcellus,' remarked
Miriam, intent upon her work. 'I wonder that you were so reluctant to tell it.
Did you, perhaps, omit to tell Justus some of the things you have just told
me?'
'No,' said Marcellus. 'I told him substantially the same thing.'
'But I thought you said you had not told him fully!'
'Well, what I have told you and Justus is sufficient, I think, to assure
you that my interest is sincere,' declared Marcellus. 'At least, Justus appears
to be satisfied. There are some stories about Jesus which he hints at, but refuses
to tell, because, he says, I am not ready to be told. Yesterday he was
lamenting that he had talked about that wedding-feast where the guests thought
the water tasted like wine.'
'You didn't believe it.' Miriam smiled briefly. 'I do not wonder.
Perhaps Justus is right. You weren't prepared for such a story.' A slow flush
crept up her cheeks, as she added, 'And how did he happen to be talking of
Anna's wedding?'
'We had been hoping to reach Cana in time to hear you sing,' said
Marcellus, brightly, glad to have the conversation diverted. 'Naturally that
led to comments about your sudden discovery of your inspiring voice. Justus had
told me previously that it had occurred on the day of a wedding-feast. I
pressed the subject, and he admitted that your strange experience had happened
on the same day.'
'The changing of water into wine--that was too much for you,' laughed
Miriam, sympathetically. 'I'm not surprised. However,' she went on, seriously,
'you seem to have had no trouble believing in my discovery that I could sing.
It has completely transformed my life--my singing. It instantly made another
kind of person of me, Marcellus. I was morbid, helpless, heartsick,
self-pitying, fretful, unreasonable. And now, as you see, I am happy and
contented.' She stirred him with a radiant smile, and asked, softly, 'Is that
so much easier to understand than the transformation of water into wine?'
'May I infer, then, that there was a miracle performed in your case,
Miriam?' asked Marcellus.
'As you like,' she murmured, after some hesitation.
'I know you prefer not to discuss it,' he said, 'and I shall not pursue
you with questions. But--assuming that Jesus spoke a word that made you
sing--why did he not add a word that would give you power to walk? He
straightened little Jonathan's foot, they say.'
Miriam pushed her embroidery aside, folded her arms, and faced Marcellus
with a thoughtful frown.
'I cannot tell you how I came by my gift,' she said, 'but I do not
regret my lameness. Perhaps the people of Cana are more helped by the songs I
sing--from my cot--than they might be if I were physically well. They all have
their worries, agonies, defeats. If I had been made whole, perhaps they would
say, "Oh, it's easy enough for Miriam to sing and rejoice. Miriam has no
trouble. Why indeed shouldn't she sing?"'
'You're a brave girl!' declared Marcellus.
She shook her head.
'I do not feel that I merit much praise, Marcellus. There was a time
when my lameness was a great affliction, because I made it an affliction. It
afflicted not only me but my parents and all my friends. Now that it is not an
affliction, it has become a means of blessing. People are very tender in their
attitude toward me. They come to visit me. They bring me little gifts. And, as
Jesus said so frequently, it is more blessed to give than to receive, I am
fortunate, my friend. I live in an atmosphere of love. The people of Cana
frequently quarrel--but not with me. They are all at their best--with me.' She
flashed him a sudden smile. 'Am I not rich?'
Marcellus made no response, but impulsively laid an open hand on the
edge of the cot, and she gave him hers with the undeliberated trust of a little
child.
'Shall I tell you another strange story, Marcellus?' she asked, quietly.
'Of course Justus must have told you that after Jesus had done some amazing
things in our Galilean villages, the news spread throughout the country, and
great crowds followed him wherever he went; hundreds, thousands; followed along
for miles and miles and days and days! Men in the fields would drop their hoes
and run to the road as the long procession passed; and then they too would join
the throng, maybe to be gone from home for a week or more, sleeping in the
open, cold and hungry, completely carried away! Nothing mattered--but to be
close to Jesus! Well, one day, he was entering Jericho. You haven't been to
Jericho, have you? No--you came up through Samaria. Jericho is one of the
larger towns of Judea. As usual, a big crowd followed him and the whole city
rushed to the main thoroughfare as the word spread that he had come. At that
time, the Chief Revenue Officer of Jericho was a man named Zacchaeus--'
'A Greek?' broke in Marcellus.
'No, he was an Israelite. His name was Zaccai, really; but being in the
employ of the Roman Government--' Miriam hesitated, coloured a little, and
Marcellus eased her embarrassment with an understanding grin.
'You needn't explain. These provincial officers usually alter their
names as soon as they begin to curry favour with their foreign masters. It's
fashionable now to have a Greek name; much smarter and safer than to have a
Roman name. I think I know something about this Zaccai (alias Zacchaeus)
without meeting him. He is a common type of rascally tax-collector; disloyal to
everybody--to the Government and to his own countrymen. We have them in all of
our provinces throughout the Empire. You can't have an empire, Miriam, without
scoundrels in the provincial seats of government. Think you that Tiberius could
govern far-away Hispania and Aquitania unless certain of their men betrayed
their own people? By no means! When the provincial officers go straight, the
Empire goes to pieces! . . . But--pardon the interruption, Miriam, and the long
speech. Tell me about Zacchaeus.'
'He was very wealthy. The people of Jericho feared and hated him. He had
spies at every keyhole listening for some rebellious whisper. Anyone suspected
of grumbling about the Government was assessed higher taxes, and if he
protested, he was charged with treason. Zacchaeus had built a beautiful home on
a knoll at the southern boundary of Jericho and lived like a prince. There were
landscaped gardens and lagoons--and scores of servants.'
'But no friends,' surmised Marcellus.
'Neither among the rich nor the poor; but Zacchaeus did not care. He had
contempt for their hatred. Well, on this day, having heard that Jesus was
proceeding toward Jericho, Zacchaeus came down into the city for a glimpse of
him. The waiting crowd was so dense that he abandoned his carriage and
struggled through the multitude to reach a spot where he might see. A
legionary, recognizing him, assisted him to climb up into the fork of a tree,
though this was forbidden to anyone else. Presently Jesus came down the street
with his large company, and stopped by the tree. He called to Zacchaeus, addressing
him by name, though they had never met, saying, "May I dine with you
to-day?"'
'And what did the people of Jericho think of that?' wondered Marcellus.
'They were indignant, of course,' said Miriam. 'And Jesus' closest
friends were very unhappy. Zacchaeus had been so mean, and now Jesus had
singled him out for special attention. Many said, "This Galilean is no
better than the priests, who are ever truckling to the rich."'
'I suppose Zacchaeus made the most of their discomfiture,' commented
Marcellus.
'He was much flattered; hurried down from the tree and swaggered proudly
at Jesus' side as the procession moved on. And when they arrived at his
beautiful estate, he gave orders that the multitude might enter the grounds and
wait--'
'While he and his guest had dinner,' assisted Marcellus. 'They must have
resented that.'
'They were deeply offended; but they waited. And saw Jesus enter the
great marble house of Zacchaeus. After they had sat waiting for almost an hour,
Zacchaeus came out and beckoned to the people. They scrambled to their feet and
ran to hear what he might say. He was much disturbed. They could see that
something had happened to him. The haughtiness and arrogance was gone from his
face. Jesus stood a little way apart from him, sober and silent. The great
multitude stood waiting, every man holding his breath and staring at this
unfamiliar face of Zacchaeus. And then he spoke, humbly, brokenly. He had
decided, he said, to give half of all he owned to feed the poor. To those whom
he had defrauded, he would make abundant restitution.'
'But what had happened?' demanded Marcellus. 'What had Jesus said to
him?'
Miriam shook her head.
'Nobody knows,' she murmured; then, with averted, reminiscent eyes, she
added, half to herself: 'Maybe he didn't say anything at all. Perhaps he looked
Zacchaeus squarely in the eyes until the man saw, reflected there, the image of
the person he was meant to be.'
'That is a strange thing to say,' remarked Marcellus. 'I'm afraid I
don't understand.'
'Many people had that experience,' said Miriam, softly. 'When Jesus
looked directly into your eyes--' She broke off suddenly, and leaned far
forward to face him at close range. 'Marcellus,' she went on, in an impressive
tone lowered almost to a whisper, 'if you had ever met Jesus--face to face--and
he had looked into your eyes until--until you couldn't get away--you would have
no trouble believing that he could do
anything--anything he pleased!
If
he said, "Put down your crutches!" you would put them down. If he
said, "Pay back the money you have stolen!" you would pay it back.'
She closed her eyes and relaxed against the cushions. Her hand, still in
his, was trembling a little.
'And if he said, "Now you may sing for joy!"' ventured
Marcellus, 'you would sing?'
Miriam did not open her eyes, but a wisp of a smile curved her lips.
After a moment, she sat up with suddenly altered mood, reclaimed her hand,
patted her curls, and indicated that she was ready to talk of something far
afield.
'Tell me more about this Greek who worked for Benyosef,' she suggested.
'Evidently he too is interested in Jesus, or he wouldn't have had the
confidence of the men who meet one another there.'
'It will be easy to talk about Demetrius,' replied Marcellus, 'for he is
my closest friend. In appearance he is tall, athletic, handsome. In mind, he is
widely informed, with a sound knowledge of the classics. At heart, he is loyal
and courageous. As to his conduct, I have never known him to do an unworthy
thing.' Marcellus paused for a moment, and went on resolutely, 'When I was
seventeen, my father presented Demetrius to me--a birthday gift.'
'But you said he is your closest friend!' exclaimed Miriam. 'How can
that be? Does he not resent being enslaved?'
'No man can be expected to like slavery, Miriam; but, once you have been
a slave, there is not very much you could do with your freedom if you achieved
it. I have offered Demetrius his liberty. He is free to come and go as he
likes.'