The older woman’s eyes took on a faraway look. For a moment she was a young girl again, an affianced bride, happy and yet a little fearful. She heard again the voice of the angel and remembered the promise that had made her flee to Elisabeth at Hebron for confirmation of the unbelievable message the angel had brought. Once again she felt the jostling of the mule as she and Joseph rode into Bethlehem, the pain when her womb contracted in the early forewarnings of childbirth. The inn at Bethlehem came back to her now as clearly as on that day when she had sat upon a bale and waited while Joseph argued with the innkeeper. She felt the agony of Jesus’ birth in the stable and the soft touch of the cloth which the servant had given her to wrap about Him.
She remembered the visit of the Magi and the flight into Egypt to escape from Herod. And as clearly as on the day a serious-faced boy of twelve had spoken to her and Joseph in the temple, she could hear His words now, “Know you not that I must be about My Father’s business?”
Remembering things which she had not thought of for a long time, Mary of Nazareth began to comprehend. She had been honored above all women by being chosen as the vessel through which the Son of God might come into the world in human form. She had been granted the boon of loving and protecting Him through the years of His infancy and childhood and the even greater gift of her son’s love. Now, she recognized at last, she could no longer claim Him as her own. Like any other child who grows up and seeks His own life away from home and family, Jesus was about His Father’s business and she had no right to upbraid Him if His duty took Him away from her and the others.
Mary of Nazareth raised her eyes to meet the kind and understanding gaze of the beautiful woman who stood beside her. “When He was only twelve,” she said, “He told me this would happen. But I didn’t understand.”
“And now you do?”
“Yes. But it is hard, especially when people revile Him.”
“You must see that He had no choice.”
“Yes, I see that now.”
“We must help Him, all of us who love Him,” the woman of Magdala said.
“He does not help us,” James broke in angrily. “Though He has a disciple whose only task is to carry the purse!”
Mary Magdalene started to answer but Mary of Nazareth spoke first. “Let me explain to them later,” she said. “We love Jesus. It was because they seek to kill Him that we came here to plead with Him to come home.”
“He knows that,” Mary Magdalene assured her. “I saw His eyes just now and they were sad when He spoke of you. But His mission must come first.”
She turned to James and the others. “Try to understand that Jesus is not like the rest of you, or like any of us. He—he healed me of a grievous affliction because I begged Him for help. A great honor has been given you to be members of His family. I would give up everything I possess to have that honor for myself.”
James was fair, if overly strict. He studied Mary Magdalene and saw that she spoke the truth. If she would gladly exchange places with Him, he thought, he might be wrong to be resentful toward Jesus.
James looked across the crowd to Jesus, who sat upon a rock that placed Him a little above the level of the crowd so He could be heard more easily. He saw that the months since Jesus had left Nazareth had taken their toll. The smile with which He had greeted the children in the courtyard each afternoon when they came to listen to His stories was rarely seen now. His body was leaner and deep lines of care and concern for those to whom He had been sent were etched into His face. In His eyes there was a deep sadness where before there had always been the ready flash of a quick and warm smile.
Now James realized something of how hard these months of travel across the face of Galilee, and the constant nagging of the Pharisees and scribes who had been sent to torment Jesus must have been. Compared to this, life in Nazareth had been easy and pleasant; except in pursuit of a higher duty, no man would have preferred to live Jesus’ life.
Looking at Jesus, James was deeply ashamed. He could not yet comprehend the identity of Jesus; that would come later. But he could sympathize now, and the burning resentment which had been a painful wound inside him began to leave him.
“You must all be weary.” The voice of Mary of Magdala soothed James’ thoughts. “Come home with me and we will all rest a while and refresh ourselves together.”
Mary of Nazareth hesitated only momentarily as she looked across the crowd to her Son who was still speaking to the people. Strangely, though He gave no sign that He saw her or knew that she was there, something passed between them, a deep communion of spirit which comes only to those whose bodies have originally been one. Mary saw that though Jesus must be about His Father’s business to the exclusion of everything else, nothing had changed between them since that day when she had wrapped Him in the swaddling cloth and laid Him in the manger at Bethlehem.
III
As if the act of publicly ignoring His immediate family had made a change in His life, Jesus turned now to a different method of teaching. Where before He had taught almost exclusively about the kingdom of God, He now began to speak largely in parables, a method by which He could instruct without giving His enemies further grounds to attack Him.
“There went out a sower to sow,” He said to the crowd that followed Him everywhere now. “As he sowed, some seed fell by the wayside and the birds of the air came and devoured it. Some seed fell on stony ground where it had not much earth. It sprang up immediately because it had no depth of earth over it, but when the sun was hot, it was scorched, and because it had no roots, it withered away. Some seed fell among thorns which grew up and choked it and it yielded no fruit.”
This was a comparison they could all understand, for wherever a field was left unfilled for long, the burnet thorn that covered the rocky hillsides quickly engulfed it and nothing else would grow there until the thorn bushes were dug up and their roots removed.
“Other seed fell on good ground and yielded fruit that sprang up and increased and it brought forth, thirty, sixty, and even a hundredfold,” He said, ending the parable.
When Jesus was alone with the Twelve and some others who stayed near Him, He was asked about the parable’s meaning.
“To you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God,” He told them. “But to others all these things are done in parables. The sower sows the word and those by the wayside where the seed is sown are they who, when they have heard, Satan comes immediately and takes away the word that was sown in their hearts.
“Those which are sown on the stony ground are they who, when they hear the word receive it immediately with gladness, but they have no root in themselves and so endure only a little while. Afterward, when affliction or persecution arises for the word’s sake, they are offended.
“Those which are sown among thorns are such as hear the word but the cares of the world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things enter in and choke the word so it becomes unfruitful. But they which are sown in good ground are such as hear the word and receive it and bring forth some thirtyfold, some sixty and some an hundred.
“Unto what shall we liken the kingdom of God?” He asked as He ended the discourse. “Or with what comparison shall we compare it? It is like a grain of mustard seed which, when it is sown in the earth, is less in size than all the seeds in the earth. But when it grows up, it becomes greater than all herbs, and shoots out great branches, so that the fowls of the air may lodge under its shadow.”
Once again He had used an illustration which even the simplest farmer among His listeners could readily understand. Mustard grew wild in all parts of Israel, often reaching a size that permitted a man to stand beneath its spreading leaves. In the spring whole fields were golden with its blossoms, and the linnets and finches flocked to eat the seeds. It was a valuable plant, too, for not only were the leaves gathered and cooked as a green vegetable, but the
powdered seeds were used both as a flavoring for food and as an application to the skin in treating disease. The listeners easily understood from the simile how Jesus’ teachings, sown like mustard seed, would grow first within the heart of each hearer and then more widely to bring about a true flowering of God’s kingdom on earth.
Chapter 17
He who loses his life for My sake will find it.
Matthew 10:39
On the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan stood the Decapolis (after the Greek word for ten), a federation of ten heathen cities within the territory of Israel. Almost entirely Grecian in their architecture, language, and religion, they had their own government and were independent of Israel. Nevertheless, many Jews lived in the Decapolis cities, and when Jesus had finished teaching at Capernaum one evening, He boarded Simon Peter’s boat with His disciples and was rowed across the lake to the shore near Gadara.
It was morning before the boat reached the other side and Jesus stepped from it to the shore. At once a shout arose from the rocky hillside, and a man came bounding down a path that wound through the tombs which the Greeks of Gadara had hewn there for burying their dead. His hair and his beard were long and matted with filth and his eyes burned with the glare of a maniac while he shouted unintelligible sounds and made threatening gestures at Jesus and His companions.
The disciples drew back fearfully at the sight of the demoniac, for he was larger even than Simon Peter and the muscles of his massive arms bulged with a strength that would have made it difficult to bind him with ordinary fetters. Jesus did not draw back, but took a step toward the sick man and held out His hand in His usual gesture of compassion for those who were ill. While the awed disciples watched, the huge man knelt before Jesus and intelligible words began to pour from his mouth as he thanked God for his cure. The demons within the man (indeed there were many, for their name was Legion) had requested permission to enter a herd of swine that grazed on the hillside. Jesus granted it. And, because demons always seek destruction, the herd promptly dashed down the hillside and into the lake where they drowned.
When the people of that region heard what had happened to the swine and saw this man they had known for years as a wild beast living among the tombs now clothed and in his right mind, they were very perturbed and begged Jesus to leave the country. This He did, but before He embarked He charged the man who had been healed to return to his home and tell of the great things God had done for him. In this way there was much talk about Jesus in the cities of the Decapolis, although He did not actually continue His intended mission there.
When Simon Peter’s boat reached Capernaum on the return journey, a considerable crowd had gathered, having seen the boat when it was still some distance from the shore. With them was Jairus, one of the rulers of the synagogue at Capernaum. As Jesus stepped from the boat to the shore, Jairus prostrated himself before Him. “My little daughter lies at the point of death,” he said. “I pray you come and lay hands on her, so she will be healed, and shall live.”
Jesus knew Jairus was a good man and was moved by his faith. Lifting the anxious father to his feet, He started for the elder’s home but as He was moving through the crowd, a woman suffering from a blood disturbance touched His robe. She was instantly healed by the mere contact with His garment, but Jesus had felt her touch and turned to ask, “Who touched My clothes?”
Simon Peter by virtue of his size was leading the way through the crowd. “The multitude presses all around you, Master,” he said. “How can you ask who touched you?”
Just then the woman came forward and threw herself at Jesus’ feet, explaining how she had touched Him and had been healed. He did not upbraid her but said, “Daughter, your faith has made you whole. Go in peace and be well of your plague.”
The interruption by the woman had delayed Jesus. Now as He moved on, a man pushed his way through the crowd and spoke to Jairus. “Your daughter is dead,” he reported. “Why trouble the Master any further?”
Jesus heard the words. “Be not afraid; only believe,” He counseled the grief-stricken father.
When Jesus, Simon, James, and John arrived with Jairus at his house, they found the family already mourning for the girl. “Why do you make this ado and weep?” Jesus reproved them. “The girl is not dead but asleep.”
The family had all seen the girl lying upon the bed and were quite sure she was dead. Several men laughed scornfully at Jesus’ words, but He ignored them and ordered everyone from the chamber except the three disciples, Jairus, and his wife. With them He went to the girl, lying still and white upon a couch, her face covered with a sheet.
“Talitha cumi,” He said, taking her hand and speaking in the Aramaic tongue used by the Galileans. The words meant, “Damsel, I say to you, arise.”
Immediately the girl rose and walked. Jesus charged those who were with Him to say nothing of the miracle, but others had seen the child lying upon the couch, apparently dead. When they now saw her walk from the bedchamber as if she had never been ill, they were astonished and word spread through Capernaum that the Teacher from Nazareth had raised the daughter of Jairus from the dead.
II
Herod Antipas was celebrating his birthday with a lavish banquet at the castle of Machaerus. The great chamber was filled with nobles of the court, his captains, the richer landowners of Galilee who paid tribute to him, and a number of high Roman officials. The tetrarch was a generous host; wine had flowed freely and by midnight everyone was drunk—except Herodias.
Herod’s consort was Jewish but no more pious than he. She was a proud woman. She knew that Herod’s action in putting away his former wife had angered King Aretas and that now the Nabatean armies were poised on the eastern border, watching for a chance to attack. The public denunciation by John the Baptist of the circumstances surrounding Herod’s latest marriage, in addition to his naming her an adulteress, had made her husband less acceptable to the religious authorities at Jerusalem where the wily tetrarch of Galilee hoped one day to be crowned king of the Jews.
With John the Baptist in prison, Herodias had felt safer, but lately Herod had been visiting the Essene prophet. Though Herodias did not know the subject of their conversations, she was certain that John had continued to denounce her. She was therefore more than ever determined to destroy the Baptist before Herod realized how much this marriage to her had cost him. As the gaiety of Herod’s birthday feast reached its climax, Herodias acted.
She had brought with her from Rome her daughter Salome, a lovely girl about seventeen years of age, already fully mature. When the feast was at its height, Herodias slyly suggested to her husband that Salome dance for the guests, dancing being an art in which the princess was well trained. To this the drunken tetrarch gave enthusiastic assent.
Herod was highly pleased with Salome’s performance. “Ask of me whatever you will,” he drunkenly assured the flushed and happy dancer, “even though it be half my kingdom.”
When Salome ran eagerly to her mother inquiring what favor she should ask of her stepfather, Herodias knew that her scheme had succeeded. “Ask him for the head of John the Baptist.”
Salome would have preferred a gift of jewelry but she did not argue. To a princess of the Herodian house, a prisoner beheaded was no more important than a bird killed with a throwing stick during the hunt. Herod the Great had killed thousands upon considerably less provocation than John had given to Antipas and Herodias, and Archelaus had without justification murdered almost as many. Returning to Herod and the other guests, Salome said, “I will that you give me the head of John the Baptist on a charger.”
The request sobered Herod. While the ascetic Essene had been in prison, Herod had come almost to admire him, and occasionally he had listened to John’s teaching about the coming kingdom of God. In Israel prophets had always been allowed considerable latitude in speaking against the rulers and the priestly regime. As Isaia
h, Jeremiah, and other prophetic figures had denounced the kings of Israel for their iniquity, so had John denounced Herod Antipas and Herodias. There was no real precedent for executing him. But Herod had sworn an oath and if he broke it now, he would be shamed before his guests to whom the beheading of a Jewish rabble-rouser was nothing.
The order for the prisoner’s death was issued and the captain of the castle guards sent to carry it out. In a little while the head of John the Baptist, still dripping blood, was brought into the banquet hall upon a charger and presented to Salome, who immediately gave it to her mother.
The sight had a chilling effect upon the drunken guests. They could not fail to see that Herod now was stricken with fear for having killed a prophet of Israel. Herodias, however, was happy. The voice which had branded her an adulteress had been silenced.
John’s few remaining disciples who had stayed nearby laid his body in a tomb where it could not be further desecrated. This done, some returned to the nearby Essene community, the others started for Galilee to tell Jesus what had happened.
III
As He moved from city to city and village to village in Galilee, Jesus came once again to Nazareth with His disciples.
As usual He entered the synagogue on the Sabbath day humbly like any other worshiper, accompanied only by the disciples who were closest to Him. When it was time for visitors to speak, He rose and addressed the congregation eloquently, teaching the gospel which He had already preached to thousands on the shores of the lake and throughout the land of Galilee.
Many of the Nazarenes marveled at Jesus’ teachings. “Whence has this man this wisdom and these mighty works?” they asked each other. But the majority remembered only that Jesus had once lived in their own city and began to question each other about Him.
The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ Page 18