Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

Javan had entered the city with the son of Gioras, and was constantly engaged in his service. Simon confided all his schemes to him, and found him a most useful and efficient counsellor, as he was thoroughly acquainted with all the politics that divided the opinions of the inhabitants: and his local knowledge of the many private streets and lanes of the city was also an advantage to his chieftain, and enabled him to waylay and surprise the parties which were sent out by John. Javan devoted all his time and all his energies to the promotion of the cause which he had espoused, for he still believed that Simon was the destined instrument in the hand of Jehovah for the preservation of his people, and the destruction of all their enemies within and without the city. His pious and enthusiastic feelings were highly excited to indignation at the profaneness of the Zealots and Idumeans, and the sight of the Holy Temple desecrated by crime and bloodshed and intemperance, filled him with a restless and inextinguishable desire for vengeance.

Isaac, his former friend, but now most bitter enemy, knew his strong religious feelings, and the almost superstitious veneration with which he regarded the sacred pile, and mourned over its degradation. The counsellor had once affected to share and encourage these devout sentiments, when such a line of conduct seemed to promote his own interests; but now that he had severed himself from the popular party, and joined that of the infidel John, he laid aside the cloak of hypocrisy, and rivalled the worst of his ruffian associates in acts of sacrilege and words of blasphemy. One day, when a party of Simon's troops were led by Javan to the temple wall, in order to assault the Zealots with darts and arrows, he seized on some of the sacred implements used in the service of the temple, and hastened to insult the feelings of the zealous young Pharisee, by profaning them to the most disgusting purposes. On the knives and pronged forks usually employed in preparing and dressing the sacred victims offered in sacrifice, he stuck the mangled limbs of the human bodies that were strewed around him in the court, and the brazen vessels he filled with human blood, and then cast them over the wall, where they fell at Javan's feet, crying out scoffingly that he presented him with suitable sacrifices, and holy instruments for preparing them. The blood of the fiery Jew burned at this sacrilegious affront, and deeply he vowed to be avenged on his insulting foe; but Isaac was now safe from his wrath, and laughed at his futile rage. Perchance it might be Javan's turn to triumph ere long!

That evening he returned to his father's house, gloomy and sad. Since his entry into the city in Simon's train, he had seldom visited his home, even at night. He felt such an irksome restraint in the presence of his family, particularly of Naomi, that any spot was more agreeable to him than the home of his childhood, and he generally dwelt at the palace, of which Simon had taken possession, as his head-quarters. On the night after his religious feelings had been outraged by Isaac, he repaired to Zadok's dwelling, that he might consult with his father on the future plans to be adopted by their party; and having held a private conference with him, he joined the rest of his family, who were walking on the terrace at the back of the house. This terrace, and the small flower-garden which it overlooked, were now the only spots where Salome and Naomi could safely enjoy the open air, except occasionally when they ventured by the retired lane that ran below the garden, to visit Mary of Bethezob, and spend some time with her, in the more extensive pleasure-ground that adjoined her house. Even this short distance they never dared to go unattended by their domestics, who were well armed; and Mary used the same precaution whenever she repaired to the priest's house. She and her little boy were on the terrace when Javan and his father passed through the richly-carved marble portico that opened upon it from the house, and joined the party.

All the cheerfulness of social and domestic intercourse had died away beneath the chilling influence of danger and dread, and when friends and relatives met together it was only to relate fresh horrors and anticipate coming woes. The spirit of Zadok was yet unsubdued, and his confident hopes unchecked, by the misery and distress around him; but his wife did not share his sanguine feelings, and Naomi remembered the doom which had been pronounced on Jerusalem by Him whose every word must be fulfilled. Therefore she could not cheer her desponding mother with the prospect of peace and tranquillity, when she knew that these blessings would no more be bestowed on her nation until the measure of their chastisement should be fulfilled, and the Messiah once more return in glory to rule over his ransomed and repenting people. She looked forward to the approaching crisis with a steady expectation, trusting to the infinite wisdom and love of her Redeemer, to guard his own believing children from the ruin that should overtake his enemies. But she could not think of the probable fate of her beloved father and her mistaken brother without a profound dread. They as yet despised the only way of salvation—and how should they be saved in the day of calamity? She daily wept and prayed before her God that he would mercifully incline their hearts to receive the truth, and in these prayers she found her best consolation. She had now no Christian friend to whom she could confide her anxious cares, or who could share her spiritual feelings and spiritual hopes; but her precious manuscript, the legacy of her beloved Mary, was an unfailing source of comfort and delight, when she could retire to her own chamber and peruse the sacred record.

Much of her time also was passed in private conversation with her mother; for Zadok was seldom able to remain with her for many hours of the day, and Salome's spirits were so depressed that her daughter never left her alone, but exerted her utmost powers to cheer and support her. She entered kindly into all the hopes and fears of Naomi which related to Marcellus, and rejoiced in the prospect of confiding her to the care and protection of one whom she had always loved and esteemed. She was not so much prejudiced against his Roman birth as her husband was; and since Naomi had embraced the Nazarene doctrines, her mother rejoiced for her sake that she was betrothed to one who would respect her sentiments.

It was not however on the subject of her own prospects and her own interests that Naomi chiefly delighted to dwell when conversing with her mother. There was another and a higher theme, towards which she drew Salome's thoughts whenever they were alone; and it was a source of joy and gratitude to her when she found that the subject was no longer shunned. Salome had formerly avoided all discussions and arguments relating to the Christian faith, in compliance with the wishes of her husband, and because she did not desire to be convinced of the truth of what he so entirely despised and disbelieved. Nevertheless, the impression which had once been made on her mind in favour of the doctrines of the Nazarenes, by the conversation of Amaziah, and her daughter, had never been entirely obliterated. The heroic constancy and faith that had been displayed in the conduct of the lamented Theophilus, had also most deeply interested her; and she could not help thinking that there must be some miraculous power in that faith which could thus disarm death and shame of their terrors, and make its disciples more than conquerors over all that naturally binds the heart of man to life.

When, therefore, her daughter resumed the subject after her return from Joppa, she was very willing to listen to her animated discourse. The more she heard of Jesus of Nazareth, the more was her gentle spirit inclined to believe the story of his love to fallen mankind, and to rest upon it for the peace and safety of her soul. During the dreary months of fear and horror that succeeded the entrance of Simon into the city, the necessary seclusion and retirement in which she and Naomi lived, gave her ample time to hear and to reflect on all the wonders that it was her daughter's happiness to relate, and she did not hear in vain. The earnest, the constant prayers of Naomi were heard in her behalf, and the spark of faith at length was kindled in her heart. Faint and flickering it burned, and it seemed that a single blast of opposition would have extinguished it; but he who doth not "break the bruised reed, nor quench the flame of smoking flax," was merciful to this feeble disciple, and spared her those trials which she was not yet able to bear.

Zadok was fully engrossed by his political and his priestly occupations; and during the short intervals which he passed with Salome, he exerted himself to cheer and encourage her spirits, and chase away the fears that oppressed her; and he never questioned her as to the topic of her conversation with Naomi during his absence, nor did she ever mention it to him. She began to feel that the salvation of her soul was concerned in the question of the truth or falsity of Naomi's statements, and she would not run the risk of having a termination put to those discussions that now so deeply interested her.

Some hours had been passed by the mother and daughter in considering and discoursing on the unhappy fate of Theophilus, and the believing hope which had supported him to the end, on the evening when Javan came from the conflict beneath the temple walls, and sought the society of his family. Their conversation had already been interrupted by the arrival of Mary and their little favourite David, who was now bounding along the terrace, and trying to engage Naomi to pursue him and join in his gambols. He ran laughing over the marble pavement, looking back at his young friend, who exerted herself to banish more serious thoughts that she might amuse the lovely child, when his course was arrested by the entrance of Javan and his father. They abruptly crossed his path, and the stern expression of Javan's countenance put a sudden stop to his mirth and Naomi's efforts at gaiety. There was something in the childish look of fear with which David regarded the young Pharisee that touched his heart and grieved him. "Am I," thought he, "an object of terror to all around me? and do even children dread my presence?"

He stooped down, and raised the little boy gently in his arms, while he whispered to him, "Why are you afraid of me, David?"