Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

CHAPTER III.

The seditions within the city, and the threatened dangers without, had not yet interrupted the regular course of life of the inhabitants, who continued to cultivate their gardens and vineyards, though at times their hearts misgave them that they might not be permitted to gather in the fruits. The garden of Zadok, by the brook Kedron, was one of the most luxuriant in all that fertile vale; and the date and pomegranate-trees, the spreading fig-trees, and graceful vines, afforded a delightful shade from the beams of the summer sun, and provided the family of the priest with a plentiful supply of delicious fruits. This garden was the frequent and favourite retreat of Salome and her daughter, who, with Claudia and some of the female domestics, spent much of their time in training and cultivating the vines that clothed the walls, and securing the boughs that ran along the summit by stones tied to the ends, to prevent the weight of the heavy clusters from bringing them to the ground. The melons and cucumbers, which also grew in abundance on the margin of the stream, required much of their care and attention; and when these occupations were finished, they were accustomed to seat themselves in a shady spot, and pursue some of the domestic manufactures which were usually carried on in every Jewish family. In one corner of the extensive garden was placed the handmill, which was daily worked by the female servants to procure the necessary supply of flour for the consumption of the house; and though the work was very laborious and fatiguing, the voices of those engaged in it were always heard singing gaily and harmoniously, to lighten their toil. The cheerful sound was accompanied by the monotonous noise of the grindstone, so often alluded to in Scripture, and by the rippling of the water where the brooks of Siloam and Kedron united their streams. All in this favoured spot spoke of peace and happy security; and therefore Salome loved to leave the noisy and tumultuous city, and spend the hours when Zadok was engaged in his public duties in this calm retreat. Here, surrounded by her maidens, she and Naomi directed them in their occupations of spinning and weaving linen, which they sometimes manufactured of a beautiful fineness, notwithstanding the simple construction of their looms and other implements.

In all her domestic labours, Salome was greatly assisted by the faithful Deborah, who was the chief of the female domestics, and had lived all her life in the family of Zadok. She was now in the decline of life, but still active and cheerful, and entirely devoted to the interest of her master. She had nursed and brought up both Javan and Naomi, and loved them with the most intense affection. It must be owned that her indulgence had in no small degree tended to foster the pride and self-will that were so conspicuous in the character of Javan, and, in a less disagreeable form, in that of his sister also; but her intentions were always good, and she would willingly have laid down her own life at any time, if she could by the sacrifice promote the welfare of her beloved charges. They were both sincerely and gratefully attached to her; and Javan never appeared to so great advantage as when, after a temporary absence, he returned to his home, and bent to receive the embraces and blessings of his venerable nurse. But Naomi was her chief comfort and the delight of her life. Her beauty, her grace, her melodious voice, her amiable and animated disposition, and her zeal for the glory of God and the honour of her nation, were the constant theme of the good old woman's praises, which were frequently lavished, rather injudiciously, in the hearing of Naomi herself; till at length the high-spirited girl almost believed that she was of a superior nature to the rest of her companions, and formed to take the lead among her countrywomen. Salome saw and deplored this great fault in her character, and strove ineffectually to correct it. Her daughter was invariably respectful and affectionate to her and to her father, but the natural pride of her heart was unsubdued. It was to be humbled by means of which Salome never dreamed, and by a power far greater than her maternal exhortations and reproofs.

It chanced one day that Salome had occasion to send Deborah on an errand to the village of Bethany, about two miles distant from Jerusalem; and Claudia being otherwise occupied, Naomi alone accompanied her nurse on the expedition. They left the city by the water-gate, and having crossed the brook Kedron, and passed along the gardens and olive-yards that flourished along its banks, they began slowly to ascend the Mount of Olives. Part of the ascent was steep and fatiguing; and as Deborah leaned on the arm of her active young companion, she recalled to her remembrance the sad time when their pious and glorious King David had also crossed that brook, and mounted by that same ascent, with his head covered and his feet bare, and weeping as he went, a fugitive from his own city, and driven into the wilderness by the cruelty and ambition of his darling son. It must have been a moving sight to behold that once mighty king, now bending beneath the weight of years and bitter sorrows, and shedding tears as he toiled barefoot up the mountain, "while all the people that went with him covered every man his head, weeping as they went up." But tears of greater worth had been shed on that spot, when the "Man of Sorrows" stood on that mount, and beheld the city of Jerusalem, and wept over it, saying, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things that belong unto thy peace!—but now they are hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come upon thee that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side; and they shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee, and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another, because thou knowest not the time of thy visitation." This affecting prophecy was unknown by Naomi, and would have been listened to with contempt, as uttered by the despised and crucified Jesus of Nazareth, whose name she had never heard repeated but as that of an impostor and malefactor, the leader of the hated sect of the Nazarenes. She lived, however, to see that very prophecy fulfilled—awfully and literally fulfilled.

Naomi and Deborah had nearly reached the highest part of the road, from whence a most commanding view was to be obtained of the Holy City, when they observed an aged woman sitting by the roadside, and while her eyes were fixed on the city below, the tears were flowing down her venerable cheeks. There was something in her countenance that attracted the attention of Naomi; and the age and apparent infirmities of this solitary mourner excited in her benevolent heart a strong desire to know the cause of her distress, and if possible to alleviate it. The woman was plainly, but respectably dressed, and had no appearance of poverty or bodily suffering, but it seemed that some melancholy reflections in her own mind had drawn forth her tears. On remarking that the eyes of the young Jewess were fixed upon her with intense curiosity, she hastily attempted to rise, as if to avoid further observation; but the staff on which she leaned for support slipped from her trembling hand, and she would have fallen to the ground, if Naomi had not sprung forward and caught her. She thanked her kindly and gratefully, and then resuming her staff, she would have proceeded alone; but as it appeared that she also was bending her steps towards Bethany, Naomi insisted on her leaning on her arm, and promised to take care of her as far as the village, where she and her nurse were going.

Deborah did not quite approve of this proposition, as she saw that the old woman moved very slowly, and she found that if they tarried for her it would be very late before they returned to the city; she therefore reminded her young charge that the day was wearing away, and that her mother would be alarmed if she did not return before sunset. But Naomi was not to be turned from her purpose, whether for good or for evil; and on this occasion she was determined not to abandon the aged stranger, for whom she felt a peculiar and increasing interest. She informed Deborah of her intention, begging her to proceed to Bethany, and execute the commission of her mother, while she would remain with her new friend—for such she already felt her to be—and join her nurse on her return.

Deborah had never opposed her, and she saw no necessity for doing so on the present occasion; though, could she have foreseen the ultimate consequences of that meeting, she would doubtless have considered it her duty to exert an unwonted degree of authority, and check the dangerous friendship that Naomi was about to form. But she anticipated no evil from Naomi's exercising towards this infirm old woman the benevolence and kindness that she always showed for those in suffering or distress; and she therefore hastened forward with an activity that was surprising at her time of life, and left Naomi to exert her endeavours to discover the cause of the tears which had so greatly excited her sympathy.

"Will you tell me," she timidly began, for she almost feared to intrude on the feelings of the venerable stranger,—"will you tell me wherefore you are in grief, good mother? It pains me to see you weep, and I should be so happy if it was in my power to wipe away those tears."

"Bless thee, my child," replied the old woman, with emotion, "these are the kindest words that I have heard addressed to me for many years. I am a solitary being now. All those who loved me best are long ago laid in the grave, and the friends whom I have found in later years have almost all retired to distant and more secure countries. But it was not for this that I wept; my tears were not those of sorrow for my own condition, which I would not change with the happiest and wealthiest in that city; but I wept for those who now dwell there in fancied security, and heed not the ruin that is coming upon them."

"What ruin?" said Naomi; "are you one of those who dread the Roman power, and think that we shall be given into their hands? My mother sometimes gives way to such fears, but it vexes my soul to hear her; for till I see the Gentiles trampling on our holy places I will never believe that they will again be permitted to enter the sacred walls of Jerusalem as conquerors. I should rejoice to hear of the near approach of the Gentile army; for, when all nations are gathered against Jerusalem to battle, then shall the Lord go forth against those nations, as when he fought in the day of battle.[[1]] His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, as our prophet Zechariah has testified; and oh! that I may live to see that glorious day, when Messiah shall at length come upon the earth!"

[[1]] Zechariah xiv. 2-4.

"Messiah is already come," said the stranger, gently and solemnly.

Naomi started, and turned to gaze on the countenance of the speaker. "What!" she exclaimed, in accents of horror, "are you a Nazarene? Are you a believer in that Galilean impostor, who suffered the just recompense of his seditions and deceptions?"

"I am a humble follower of the Holy Jesus, the Son of the Most High God, who suffered for our transgressions, and rose again for our justification," replied the stranger.

Naomi shrunk back, and dropped the arm of the aged Christian, as if she felt the touch of one who professed that detested creed to be pollution, and words of scorn and contempt rose to her lips. But her better feelings repressed these expressions; and a sentiment which she could not comprehend drew her again to the gentle and venerable woman, whom in her prejudiced judgment she despised. Again she offered her support to the stranger, and again it was accepted with grateful courtesy, while a benevolent smile lighted up her naturally serious countenance, as she observed the struggle in her young companion's feelings.

"You have been brought up, my daughter, to look upon us as a deluded and despicable sect, who have justly incurred the scorn and punishment that have so heavily been laid upon us, because we have forsaken the religion of our forefathers, and declared our belief that He, whom our chief priests and elders considered worthy of a cruel death, was indeed the Lord Christ, the long-promised Messiah. But there is a frankness in your manner and countenance that convinces me you only continue in this error because you are ignorant of the grounds of our faith, and have been taught to give credit to the false statements invented to excuse the murder of the Lord of Life, and to conceal the wondrous fact of his resurrection from the dead."

"I know," replied Naomi, "that it is said his disciples carried away his body by night, and then declared that he was risen. But who over saw him alive after his crucifixion?"

"I did," answered the stranger. "My eyes beheld him surrounded by his disciples; my hands touched his sacred and human form; my ears listened to his gracious voice, speaking as never man spake; and my heart believed and was comforted. I was with his sorrowing disciples when, on the day of his resurrection, we assembled to mourn over his death, and our blighted hopes; and in fear and trembling, because of the indignation of the Jews against his followers, we had closed the doors on our sad meeting. And then, while consternation filled every breast, He whom we wept as dead suddenly appeared in the midst of us, and said in his well-known voice, 'Peace be unto you.' Only those who were then present can know the feelings of our hearts at this unexpected apparition. We could not believe that it was he himself in bodily form, for our hearts were hardened, and we remembered not the words which he had spoken unto us, that he must be killed, and rise again the third day; and we thought that it was his spirit. But he showed us his hands and his side, so lately pierced by the nails and the spear of his murderers; and then we were glad, for we knew it was the Lord himself. And at other times I saw him, when he took bread, and did eat it before us, that no doubts might remain in our minds as to the actual resurrection of his body. And last of all I saw him, when he led his disciples out as far as to Bethany, and having exhorted them, and comforted them with the promise of his continual presence, he lifted up his hands and blessed them; and then, while every eye was fixed upon him, he rose slowly into the air, and ascended until a cloud received him out of our sight. Oh! how fervently did we then worship our risen and exalted Saviour! And while we yet looked steadfastly toward heaven, as he went up, two heavenly messengers stood by us in shining garments, and said, 'Why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as you have seen him go into heaven.' Then we knew that he would no more visit the earth in person, until the latter day; and we returned to Jerusalem, full of joy and thanksgiving."

"Your words are wonderful to me," said Naomi. "I cannot think that you are trying to deceive me; and yet I cannot believe that all these strange things did really take place. I ought not, perhaps, to listen to you; and doubtless, my father, who is a priest of the holy temple, would be greatly displeased if he knew that I was holding converse with a Nazarene; and yet I feel an unaccountable interest in what you have been relating, and a strong desire to hear more of the Christian's faith and the Christian's God. Did you often see this Jesus of Nazareth before he was put to death, and did you then believe in him? I know that his disciples declared that he performed many and wonderful miracles; but our elders say that he worked them by the powers of Beelzebub, like the sorcerers of old. Did you ever witness any of these miracles?"

"Yes, my child, I was so highly favoured as to be present when he performed one of his most merciful and glorious miracles; for I am Mary, the sister of that Lazarus of Bethany whom he raised from the dead, and I beheld my brother come forth from the grave, where he had lain for several days, at the Almighty voice of the Son of God!"

"Oh, tell me that wonderful story," cried Naomi. "I have heard that Jesus did once raise a dead man to life, but I did not believe it; or I thought that if it was really true, yet that it was done by the assistance of evil spirits, or at all events that it was only performed at the command, and by the power of Almighty God, bestowed on him for that particular purpose, as it once was on our great prophet Elijah."

"It is true that the Lord Jesus did restore several persons to life, besides healing the sick, cleansing the lepers, giving sight to the blind, and speech to the dumb, and casting devils out of those who were possessed. But in all these miraculous works he differed from the prophets and holy men who have in former days been permitted to perform some similar wonders; for they only acted by the command of God, and had no power of themselves to restore the life, and health, and faculties which God alone can give or take away. But Jesus Christ possessed this power in himself, as the eternal Son of the Most High God; and he employed it according to his own most gracious will, saying to the leper, 'Be thou healed;' to the deaf and dumb, 'Be opened;' to the devils, 'I command thee to come out;' to the lame and the palsied, 'Take up thy bed and walk;' and to the dead, 'I say unto thee, arise'—'Lazarus, come forth!' The wind ceased at his command, and the waves were calm at the sound of his voice; and what was more wondrous still, the hearts of many sinners were changed; and those who had been vile and reprobate became sincere and godly men, living lives of devotion to the honour of God their Saviour, and the good of their fellow-creatures; and at last sealing their faith with their blood, and dying for the sake of Him who had died for them."

The earnestness with which the aged Mary spoke had almost overpowered her, and she stood still and trembled. Naomi, who was profoundly interested in her discourse, and most desirous that she should continue her recital, proposed to her that they should sit down on a grassy bank by the roadside, and there wait the return of Deborah from the village, which was not now far distant; and Mary could proceed thither at leisure, after resting herself from the fatigue of the ascent, and the excitement of speaking on a subject in which her heart was so deeply engaged. She told Naomi that she should wish to proceed a little further on the road before they seated themselves, for that the sacred and interesting spot where her brother had lain in his temporary grave was but a few paces distant; and there, where she herself frequently resorted to meditate on the astonishing event of his resurrection, she would detail to her young friend all the particulars that had marked the transaction.

NAOMI, AND MARY THE SISTER OF LAZARUS.

They accordingly advanced beneath some precipitous rocks that overhung the road on one side, and which were broken by several chasms, extending a considerable depth into the surface. At one of these caves, larger and deeper than the rest, Mary paused, and invited Naomi to descend a few rough steps, that led to a small and rocky area in front of the cavern where the body of Lazarus was laid. Here, in full view of the dark sepulchre, they sat down on a fallen mass of stone, while Mary related to her attentive auditor the scenes that were indelibly impressed on her own memory.

"You will not wonder, my dear young friend," she said, "at the warmth with which I speak of the blessed Jesus, when I tell you of all his mercy and love towards me and my brother and sister. He often retired to Bethany from the noise and crowd of the city, and our house was honoured by being made his home. The light of his countenance shed joy and peace over our dwelling, and his words were as heavenly music, to which we could have listened for ever. Oh! it was a blessed privilege to sit at his feet, and hear his words, and receive the divine instruction that flowed from his gracious lips. It was in the month Tisri,[[2]] a few days after our beloved Master had spent a day in our humble dwelling on his return into the country from attending the feast of tabernacles, that our brother Lazarus fell sick, and we soon perceived that his sickness was mortal. My sister and I were in deep distress; but we remembered the power and love of Jesus, and we delayed not to send a messenger to Bethabara, beyond Jordan, where we knew that he abode at that time. We could not doubt his willingness to succour us in our affliction, for he loved Lazarus, and he loved us also. Therefore we only sent to him, saying, 'Lord, behold he whom thou lovest is sick;' and we were fully convinced that he would instantly return to us and heal our brother. But our messenger had not long been gone when a fearful change took place in Lazarus. The fever increased, the struggles of death came on, and in anguish and despair we saw our only, our beloved brother expire! Did not Jesus know what was passing beneath our humble roof at Bethany? And could not he, who had performed so many miracles, have stayed the hand of death, and restored Lazarus to health with one word of his mouth? Such were the thoughts of our faithless hearts while weeping over the bed of death, and preparing for the hasty burial which is customary and necessary in this climate.

[[2]] The Hebrew month answering to a part of our September and a part of October.

"The place where Jesus then abode was a day's journey from Bethany; and Lazarus was laid in his cold grave almost at the moment when our messenger reached him who we hoped would come and heal him. The following day we expected to see our Lord arrive, if not to restore our brother, yet to comfort our bleeding hearts with his words of grace and love. But the messenger returned alone; and the reply which he brought us only weakened our expiring faith. Jesus had said to him, 'This sickness is not unto death,' and yet Lazarus was in the grave—what could we believe? what could we hope?

"Two more days, long melancholy days, passed away, and we sat mourning in our house, once the abode of happiness, and peace, and brotherly love—now gloomy and silent, save when the cry of the mourners, who sat with us on the ground, burst forth in a wild and sudden wail, and caused our tears to flow afresh. Many of our friends had come from the city to comfort us; but their sympathy brought us no relief, for our brother was dead, and Jesus had forsaken us; and all the consolation that Christians may now feel in the knowledge that Christ has purchased for them life and immortality, was but dimly understood by us. We had an uncertain hope that hereafter we should meet our brother in a happier world, and that Jesus would, with his own blood, wipe away all our sins and all our sorrows for ever. While we sat bowed down with grief, we heard a sound as of a distant multitude. The noise approached, and we soon perceived that Jesus and his disciples were drawing near the town. How anxiously had we watched and waited for that sound during the sad days that preceded our brother's death! But now it came too late—our faithless hearts dared not to indulge a hope that Lazarus should live again. Nevertheless Martha rose hastily, and went forth to meet our Lord, but I did not go with her; I sat still in the house, oppressed with sorrow. Soon she returned to me, and whispered softly, 'The Master is come, and calleth for thee,' and quickly I rose and went unto him; for he was still in the place where Martha met him, outside the town. When I saw his kind and gracious countenance, and thought on all his power and all his love, my grief and disappointed hopes overpowered my feelings of veneration and respect; and falling down at his feet, I exclaimed in the bitterness of my spirit, 'Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died!' It was a sinful murmur, but the merciful Jesus saw only the sorrow that dictated it, and did not reprove me; nay more, he sympathised in our human sufferings, and when he saw me weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with me, he groaned aloud, and his countenance was troubled, and he said, 'Where have ye laid him?' We said to him, 'Lord, come and see;' and we led him towards this spot. Jesus wept! Yes, my child, he who had power over earth and heaven, the eternal Son of God, shed tears of sorrow for the death of his friend. He knew that that death would soon be chased away; he knew that at his word the dead would rise and all our grief would be swallowed up in joy, but yet he wept at the sight of human misery and woe. At length we reached the sepulchre; a large stone was placed before that cave which contained the body of Lazarus, and Jesus commanded us to remove it. Still did we not believe his gracious intentions; and my sister remonstrated against the stone being taken away, as she feared that ere that time putrefaction had begun, and that the remains of our dear brother were a prey to the worms. But Jesus gently reminded her of what he had said to her when first she went forth to meet him, saying, 'Said I not unto thee, that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?' Then did hope once more animate our breasts, and in breathless anxiety we watched to see the end. When the heavy stone was taken away, there lay the lifeless corpse wrapped in grave-cloths. Jesus lifted up his eyes, and praised his heavenly Father; and then in a loud voice he cried, 'Lazarus, come forth!' What a thrill passed through the heart of every one of those who stood by, when from that dark cave we saw the dead arise and come forth endued with life! At the command of Jesus we hastily took away the cloths in which his hands and feet and face were bound, and beheld once more the beloved countenance of our brother, beaming with the same tender affection that was ever wont to animate it. I will not attempt to describe to you the joy and gratitude that filled our hearts, or the wonder that struck upon all who had witnessed this miracle. Many henceforth believed in Jesus, and this day was to them the beginning of life and eternal salvation: but some there were who could not be convinced, even by what they had seen, that Jesus was the Christ; and they went and told his deadly enemies the Pharisees, who were jealous of every wonderful work that he performed, and feared that the people should believe on him."

"Oh!" cried Naomi, "is it possible that any could behold such proofs of his power and his goodness, and yet seek to betray him into the hands of those who hated him! I am filled with wonder and amazement at all you have told me; and I am almost tempted to believe that ha was indeed Messiah. But then wherefore was he poor, and despised, and forsaken, and crucified? Wherefore did he not crush all his enemies, and take unto himself his great power, and reign over Judah?"

"I could reply to all those objections, my daughter," replied Mary, "but time will not now permit me. I see your companion coming towards us from the village, and my own strength is exhausted. I cannot recall the feelings of that blessed period of my life without deep emotion; but should we ever meet again, how gladly would I renew the subject, and endeavour to deepen the impression that I see is already made on your young heart."

"Oh that I could meet you often," said Naomi, "and hear more about Jesus of Nazareth. I never felt so deeply interested on any subject, and I cannot endure to think that I may hear of it no more. I almost tremble to propose it, as I know how heavy would be my father's displeasure if I were discovered;—and yet I am resolved to brave it. Will you let me come to your home, when I can do so unsuspected? and will you then let me listen to all that you can tell me? My parents are good and indulgent, and I would not deceive them for any other purpose; but I feel that there is something in your story that concerns my soul, and God will pardon my disobedience, while I am seeking to know his will."

We have said that Naomi was self-willed and impetuous: her feelings were ardent and uncontrolled; and in proportion to the contempt she entertained for the Nazarenes while she was ignorant of the character of Him whom they worshipped, was the admiration she now felt when that character was in some degree displayed to her, and the eagerness of her determination to know more of this gracious and glorious Being. She clasped her hands, and fixed her bright black eyes on Mary's countenance with a look so earnest and imploring, that the aged disciple saw the work of God was begun in her heart, and she doubted not that the work would be completed. She felt it to be a sacred duty to endeavour to snatch this young creature from the errors and prejudices which now obscured her mind, and lead her into the pure light of the Gospel, even though the pious effort was in opposition to the will of her mistaken parents. By the blessing of God, the conversion of their child might be the means of calling them also out of darkness into His marvellous light. She therefore readily consented to receive her young friend whenever she could contrive to visit her, and exhorted her to caution and circumspection, as otherwise danger might befall them both.

"For myself," she added, "it little matters how soon the worn-out thread of my life is severed; but I would not willingly shorten an existence which I may spend in my Master's service, though to depart and be with Christ would be much better. And you, I trust, my child, may have many years before you, in which to honour God, and serve his Son Jesus Christ. I cannot but believe that you will be brought to a knowledge of his name, and be an active and devoted servant of him whom once you hated and despised. Farewell, and may the blessing of the God of Israel be with you, and the grace of his Son Jesus Christ descend upon your heart."

Mary arose, and Naomi took her hand, which she kissed affectionately and respectfully, and then they advanced slowly to meet Deborah, who was hastening towards them with considerable speed.

"I fear," she exclaimed, "that I have kept you very long. I thought you would have entered the village ere this, and would have been tired of waiting for me; but I was detained much longer than I expected: and now we must hurry homewards, or your mother will be alarmed; and Zadok too will be displeased with me for keeping you out so late, if he returns from the evening service to the temple and finds you are not yet at home."

"Is Zadok the priest your father then?" asked Mary, with some anxiety; for she knew the strictness of his character as a Pharisee, and his abhorrence of the Christian name, and she feared that her young friend's dawning faith might be put to a severe trial, and even be extinguished, if Zadok ever obtained knowledge of it.

"Yes," replied Naomi, "I am his daughter, and I glory in saying so; for whose character stands so high as that of Zadok? and who is so kind and so good a father as Zadok? I would that you knew him, Mary."

"God bless you," again said the old woman; and they separated. She slowly bent her steps towards her humble home at Bethany, and lifted up her heart in fervent prayer for the soul of Naomi, who, with her nurse, rapidly descended the mount, crossed the brook, and entering the city, soon reached the abode of Zadok.

Bethany