Authors: Unknown
'He is big enough for it!' she declared. 'But don't tell him I said
that,' she added. 'He would think it a great misfortune if anything happened to
Simon.'
They were nearing the old bazaar now. Several women were entering with
baskets. A few men loitered about the open door. No legionaries were to be
seen. Apparently the Christians were free to go and come as they pleased.
Rhoda led the way into the large, bare, poorly lighted room, crowded
with men, women, and children, waiting beside the long tables on which food was
being spread. Stephanos advanced with a welcoming smile.
'Adelphos Demetrius!' he exclaimed, extending both hands. 'Where did you
find him, Rhoda?'
'He was looking for you.' Her tone was tenderly possessive.
'Come, then,' he said. 'Simon will want to see you. You're thin, my
friend. What have they been doing to you?'
Demetrius flinched involuntarily as Stephanos squeezed his arm.
'A little accident,' he explained. 'It's not quite healed.'
'How did you do it?' asked Rhoda. 'You've a cut on your wrist too; a bad
one!'
Demetrius was spared the necessity of replying, Stephanos coming to his
rescue with a little pantomime of pursed lips and a slight shake of his head
for Rhoda's benefit.
'You were fighting, I think,' she whispered, with a reproving grin.
'Christians don't fight, you know.' Impishly puckering a meaningful little
smile at Stephanos, she added, 'They don't even fret about things.'
Preoccupied, Stephanos missed this sally, and beckoned to Demetrius to follow
him.
Conversation on the way back was forced and fragmentary. John Mark and
his mother walked on ahead. The tall Greeks followed on either side of Rhoda,
who felt dwarfed and unimportant, for it was evident, by their taciturnity,
that they wanted to be alone with each other. She did not resent this. She was
so deeply in love with Stephanos that anything he did was exactly right, even
when he so plainly excluded her from his comradeship with Demetrius.
After a hasty good night at Mark's gate, the Greeks sauntered down the
street toward their lodgings, silently at first, each waiting for the other to
speak. Stephanos's steps slowed.
'Well, what did you think of it?' he demanded, bluntly. 'Tell me truly.'
'I'm not quite sure,' temporized Demetrius.
'But you are!' snapped Stephanos. 'You have seen our Christian Ecclesia
in action. If you are not quite sure, that means you think we have taken the
wrong road!'
'Very well,' consented Demetrius, with an indulgent chuckle. 'If that's
what I think, why not go on and tell me what
you
think? You've had a
better chance to form an opinion. I haven't seen your Ecclesia do anything
yet--but eat. What else is it good for? I'm bound to say, Stephanos, that if I
were selecting a company of people to engage in some dangerous tasks requiring
endless faith and courage, I might have skipped a few who were present
tonight.'
'There you are!' lamented Stephanos. 'That's what is wrong. Jesus
commands us to carry on his work, no matter at what cost in privation, pain,
and hazard of life; and all we've accomplished is a free boarding-house and
loafing-place for anybody who will say, "I believe."'
'Doubtless Simon's intentions were good,' observed Demetrius, feeling
that he was expected to make some comment.
'Excellent!' agreed Stephanos. 'If everybody connected with the Ecclesia
had the bravery and goodness of Simon Peter, the institution might develop
great power. You see, at the beginning, what he wanted was a close-knit body of
men who would devote their full time to this work. He thought they could
inspire one another if they lived together. You remember how it was at the
shop, Demetrius, the disciples spending hours in conference. Simon wanted to
increase this circle, draw in other devoted men, and weld them together in
spirit and purpose.'
'And made the circle a little too large?' suggested Demetrius.
Stephanos came to a halt, and moodily shook his head.
'The whole plan was unsound,' he said, disconsolately. 'Simon announced
that any Christian might sell his property and bring the proceeds to the
Ecclesia, with the promise that his living would be provided for.'
'No matter how much or how little he had?' queried Demetrius.
'Right! If you owned a farm or a vineyard, you sold it--probably at a
sacrifice--and brought Simon the money. If you had nothing but a few chickens,
a milk-goat, and a donkey, you came with the money you'd got from that. And all
would live together in brotherly love.'
Gloomily Stephanos recited the misadventures of this unhappy experiment.
The word had quickly spread that any Christian family could insure its living
by joining the Ecclesia. There was no lack of applicants. Simon had rejoiced to
see the large number of people who professed to be Christians. At an all-night
conference in Benyosef's shop, Simon had been almost beside himself with
happiness. The kingdom was growing!
'That night,' continued Stephanos, 'it was decided that Simon should
remain to oversee our Ecclesia. The others were to see how nearly ready the
Christians were to attempt similar projects in Joppa, Caesarea, Antioch, and
other good-sized cities. So they scattered; John, James, Philip, Alphaeus,
Matthew--' Stephanos made an encircling gesture that included all the rest of
them. 'Simon is impetuous, you know. When he captures an idea, he saddles and
bridles it and rides away at a gallop!'
'And the Ecclesia grew!' assisted Demetrius.
'In numbers--yes! Large families, with next to nothing, moved in to live
in idleness, lustily singing hymns and fervent in prayer, but hardly knowing
what it was all about, except that they had three meals a day and plenty of
good company.'
'And how did the other people like it, the ones who had owned
considerable property?'
'Well, that was another problem. These people began to feel their
superiority over the indigents. The more money you had contributed to the
Ecclesia, the more right you thought you had to dictate the policies of the
institution.' Stephanos smiled unhappily. 'Only this morning, one arrogant old
fellow, who had been impudent and cross over something Simon had said, was
discovered to have cheated in his dealings with the Ecclesia, and when Simon
confronted him with it, he went into such a mad rage that he had a stroke. Died
of it! And Simon will probably get the blame for it.'
'It must be very discouraging,' said Demetrius.
'That isn't all!' sighed Stephanos. 'This daily supper! Many merchants
are coming to these meetings now--bringing their food along; I must give them
credit for that--but quite clearly patronizing the Ecclesia to make friends for
business reasons. In short, the Ecclesia is becoming too, too popular!'
'What's to be done about it?' Demetrius wanted to know.
Stephanos moved on slowly, shaking his head.
'Demetrius, until this Ecclesia began to take in boarders, the Christian
community in Jerusalem was a force to reckon with. Men continued their gainful
occupations, careful to deal honestly and charitably, eager to live according
to Jesus' commandments, and talking of his way of life to all who would give
heed. And in the evening they would assemble to hearten one another. Simon
would stand up and challenge them to greater efforts. He would repeat the words
of Jesus, and renew their strength. He was magnificent!' Stephanos stopped
again and faced his friend sadly. 'You heard him tonight--squandering his
splendid energies in wheedling a lot of selfish, bickering people to forget
their little squabbles and stop nagging one another. Did you notice that weak,
solicitous smile on his face as he entreated them to be more generous with
their gifts to the Ecclesia? Well, that wasn't Simon! That wasn't the Simon who
fired the hearts of the men who used to meet in the night to repledge their all
to the cause of our Christos! It is a disgrace!' Stephanos clenched both hands
in his tousled hair and shook his head hopelessly. 'Is it for this,' he cried,
'that Jesus suffered on the cross--and died--and rose again?'
'Have you talked with Simon about it?' asked Demetrius, after a discreet
interval.
'Not lately. A couple of weeks ago, when it became evident there was
going to be an open ruction between the Jews and Greeks, several of us inquired
whether we could do anything to help him, and he appointed seven of us to
oversee the fair apportioning of food and clothing; but, Demetrius, my feeling for
Jesus and his worth to the world is a sort of exalted passion that can't bring
itself down to the low level of listening patiently to ill-mannered quarrels
over whether Bennie Issacher was given a better coat than little Nicolas
Timonodes.'
Demetrius snorted his sympathetic disgust and suggested that his friend
would do well to keep away from such annoyances.
'I mean to do just that!' declared Stephanos. 'I made a decision
tonight. I'm not going back there, any more!'
'It is possible,' said Demetrius, 'that Julian may soon solve the
Ecclesia's difficulties. Had you heard anything about an attack? My master
thinks the Christians are presently to be set upon by the Insula.'
Stephanos laughed bitterly.
'If the Procurator waits a little while, the Ecclesia will destroy
itself, and save him the bother. But, tell me, how does your Roman master feel
about Jesus, now that he has been in Galilee?'
'Much impressed, Stephanos. He finds it difficult to believe that Jesus
came to life again, but he considers him the greatest man who ever lived. He
wants to talk with you. He was deeply touched when you asked to see the robe,
and were so moved by the sight of it.'
'He still has it, I suppose,' murmured Stephanos. 'Do you think he would
let me see it again, Demetrius? So much has happened, lately, to depress me. Do
you know, my friend, that when I touched the robe, that night, it--it did
something for me! I can't explain it, but--'
'Let us go to the inn!' said Demetrius, impetuously. 'Now! He will still
be up, and glad to see you. I think you need to have a talk with each other.'
'Are you sure he won't think it an intrusion?' asked Stephanos,
anxiously.
'No, he will welcome you. It will be good for you both.'
Once the decision was made, Stephanos set the pace with long, determined
strides.
'Are you going to tell the Tribune about the Ecclesia?' he asked.
'By no means!' declared Demetrius. 'I believe that Marcellus is on the
way to becoming a Christian. He is infatuated with the story of Jesus, and
talks of nothing else. If he decides to be a Christian, he will be a good one
and a brave one; you can depend on that! But we mustn't expose him to things
that might disgust him. If he knew that some of his companions in this cause
were mere quarrelsome idlers, he might not want to debase himself.'
'Those are hard words, my friend,' said Stephanos.
'It gave me no pleasure to say them,' rejoined Demetrius. 'But I know
the Tribune very well. It is true he has been brought up as a pagan, but he is
particular about the company he keeps.'
They found Marcellus alone and reading. He greeted them warmly, showing
an instant interest in Stephanos, who was ready with an apology for the
untimely call.
'There is no one I would rather see, Stephanos,' he said, cordially,
offering him a chair. 'You sit down too, Demetrius. You men have had a pleasant
reunion, I think.'
'Did you have an interesting journey in Galilee, sir?' asked Stephanos,
rather shyly.
'Interesting--and bewildering,' replied Marcellus. 'Justus was a good
guide. I heard many strange stories. It is difficult to believe them--and
difficult not to believe them.' He paused, his expression inviting a rejoinder;
but Stephanos, at a disadvantage in the presence of this urbane Roman, merely
nodded, with averted eyes.
'I was greatly attracted by old Nathanael Bartholomew,' went on
Marcellus.
'Yes,' said Stephanos, after a tongue-tied interval.
Demetrius, growing restless, thought he would come to his timid
compatriot's rescue.
'I think Stephanos would like to see the robe, sir,' he suggested.
'Gladly!' agreed Marcellus. 'Will you find it for him, Demetrius?'
After some moments in the adjoining room, during which time Marcellus
and Stephanos sat silent, Demetrius returned and laid the folded robe across
his friend's knees. Stephanos gently smoothed it with his finger-tips. His lips
were trembling.
'Would you like to be alone for a little while?' asked Marcellus,
softly. 'Demetrius and I can take a walk in the garden.'
Stephanos gave no sign that he had heard. Gathering the robe up into his
arms, he glanced at Marcellus and then at Demetrius, with a new light of
assurance in his eyes.
'This was my Master's robe!' he announced, in confident tones, as if
delivering a public address. 'He wore it when he healed the sick and comforted
the sorrowing. He wore it when he spoke to the multitudes as no man has ever
spoken. He wore it when he went to the cross to die--for
me,
a humble
weaver!' Stephanos boldly searched Marcellus's astonished face. 'And for
you
--a
wealthy Tribune!' He turned toward Demetrius. 'And for
you
--a slave!'
Marcellus leaned forward on the arms of his chair, baffled by the
suddenly altered manner of the Greek who had thrown aside his reticence to
declare his faith in such resonant tones.
'You killed my Lord, Tribune Marcellus!' went on Stephanos, boldly.
'Stephanos! Please!' entreated Demetrius.
Marcellus held up a cautioning hand toward his slave.
'Proceed, Stephanos!' he commanded.
'It was forgivable,' went on Stephanos, rising to his feet, 'for you did
not know what you were doing. And you are sorry. The Temple and the Insula
killed him! And they did not know what they were doing. But they are not
sorry--and they would do it again, tomorrow!' He took a step toward Marcellus,
who rose from his chair, and stood, as one receiving an order. 'You, Tribune
Marcellus Gallio, can make amends for what you have done! He forgave you! I was
there! I heard him forgive you! Make friends with him! He is alive! I have seen
him!'