Tor, a Street Boy of Jerusalem

by Florence Morse Kingsley

There was a withered fig-tree near the wayside, and Tor heard the Galilean, Peter, pause and say to his Master, “Rabbi, behold the fig-tree which thou cursedst is withered away.”

And Jesus looked upon the withered tree and answered the Galilean on this wise: “Have faith in God; for I tell thee that whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou taken up and cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, but [pg 71]shall believe that what he saith cometh to pass; he shall have it. Therefore I say unto you, All things whatsoever ye pray and ask for, believe that ye have received them, and ye shall have them. And whensoever ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have aught against any one; that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.”

Tor was crouching in the shelter of a bush and heard every word distinctly. His thin face burned with excitement. “He said ‘whosoever,’ ” he murmured. “He said ‘whosoever.’ ” Tor knew something of the custom of prayer. Many times he had seen the rich Pharisees standing motionless at the street-corners praying. Also, he had begged in the temple court, where many persons prayed aloud. For himself, he never prayed. The God of the Jews regarded not beg[pg 72]gars, he told himself. Now as he crouched behind the bush, listening to the departing footsteps of the thirteen men, he began to say over to himself the word “Father,” which the man who had opened his eyes said so often.

He repeated it softly to himself many times. Then he sprang up and followed hard after his Master, vaguely comforted and glad at heart.

The day was a long one, passed mainly in the great Court of the Gentiles, and Tor, mingling with every gaping crowd which surrounded the Nazarene, was puzzled and troubled by much that he saw and heard. There was no shouting of Hosanna to-day, no royal acclamations. The people stood close in serried ranks and listened doubtfully to the strange teachings of the King in the seamless robe—the King who wore no [pg 73]crown and whose followers bore no arms. He was telling stories to the multitude, stories so simple that even a beggar could understand them. The child pressed close, so close that he could have touched the sandaled feet of the man who had opened his eyes. And so he listened to the stories of the father and his two undutiful sons; the absent lord of the vineyard and his wicked servants; the generous king who made a marriage feast for his son, and how it befell that the very beggars were gathered into the feast. The child smiled and trembled and wept aloud beneath the power of that wondrous Voice; more than once the Master’s deep eyes rested upon the small upturned face with its wistful look of adoration.

And once, as he was speaking, the hand of Jesus rested for a moment on the [pg 74]rough curls of the beggar’s head. Ah, the rapture of that moment! Tor knew now deep in his heart that he was the accepted servant of the King. He could have remained there forever listening to the stories; but the temple police began to clear away the crowd with loud authoritative cries and random thrusts of their gilded poles of office.

“Make way!” they shouted. “Make way for the holy and reverend chief priests and the honorable elders of the Sanhedrim!”

Through the narrow passage thus cleared there came presently in great pomp and glory a stately delegation from the supreme council of the Jewish hierarchy. The chief priests wished to question publicly this worker of miracles—this teller of strange parables, who openly wrought his mighty works in the [pg 75]temple of Jehovah without their will or permission. “By what authority doest thou these things?” they demanded. “And who gave thee this authority?”

And Jesus, calm and unafraid, answered them after their own custom with another question. “I also will ask you one thing,” he said, “which if ye tell me, I likewise will tell you by what authority I do these things. The baptism of John, whence was it? from heaven or from men?”

The gorgeously-robed official who had put the question glanced about him at the hostile faces of the multitude, with a truculent air of scorn and contempt. Thus mumbling and stammering angrily in the midst of his great beard, he turned and conferred in a whisper with his companions. “If we say, From heaven,” he [pg 76]muttered, “the fellow will ask, Why then did ye not believe him?”