 | Jesus of Nazareth |  |
Scene I.
The Twelve at supper in a house at Capernaum. Jesus has not yet arrived. Eleven are seated.(Enter John).
John.
I have just left the Master. He bade me
tell you not to wait for him; the sick folk he is
visiting may take up all his time to-night.
Matthew.
They take up too much of his time.
After all, healing the sick is not the only task of the
Messiah. “The Lord spake unto Ahaz, saying—”
John.
Isaiah, as usual! For my part, I hold that
Daniel is a far clearer and more reliable writer.
What can be clearer than this? “And at that time
shall Michael stand up, the great prince which
standeth for the children of thy people: and there
shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since
there was a nation even to that same time: and at
that time thy people shall be delivered, every one
that shall be found written in the book.”
Judas.
Pass the figs.
James the Elder.
Cannot you ask for them in
decent Galilean? That Southern accent of yours is
most unpleasant.
You Northern folk are the most perfectly
conceited beings I ever met—and the most ignorant.
Not one of you has yet seen Jerusalem—not even the
Master himself—and yet you all talk as if the Temple
was built upon the borders of your lake, and as if
you were the builders of it! To choose Mount
Gerizim for the rival edifice was evidently a mistake:
the secessionists should have looked further North.
Nathanael.
Peace, peace. The Master bids us
love one another, yet we are always quarrelling.
Thomas.
Naturally. There are so many of us.
Twelve men are bound to quarrel. The only companions
who never quarrel are a man and a woman.
Jude.
Ask Peter about that. He has a wife—and
a mother-in-law—and they both live with him.
Peter.
A truce to this foolish nonsense. Do you
know what happened last night? We left the Master
at sunset, you will remember, going into the
mountain alone, according to his habit. Then we—
Andrew, James and myself—launched the boat and
made for Capernaum, meaning to take the Master
aboard at that rocky point where he generally meets
us. But it came on to blow hard, and a big sea got
up; there was more swell than I have seen for many a
night. “We can't take him on board,” I said; “we
shall split the old boat on the rocks.” But Andrew
was all for holding on; so on we went, though the
water was tumbling in—great white sheets of it—
over the gunwale. When we got near the coast we
saw the Master—quite calm and cool—standing on
waiting for us in the bright sunshine. “We can
never get him on board,” said I; but Andrew said,
“Hold on, never fear, he will find a way”—and
what do you think happened? We were making
straight for the rocks and I thought every moment
we should founder, when suddenly the sail shook,
the boat righted herself, and we passed into smooth
water. It was shallow just there; Jesus walked
through the shoal water and stepped aboard—and I
can tell you I was thankful. When we started again,
the wind had fallen; the Master had stilled the
storm. We had to lower the sail and row all the rest
of the way: there wasn't enough wind to shake a
single thread of canvas. He is more than man—not
a doubt of that—I believe he could walk on the
water if he chose.
Andrew.
He knows everything too. You remember
the first time he spoke to us? When he told us
to cast the net on the right side of the boat, and we
made that wonderful haul.
Matthew.
Did you count the exact number of the
fish? That is a very important point.
Andrew.
No: but there were some famous carp,
with the richest steel-blue markings I ever saw, and
nine or ten magnificent perch.
Matthew
(thoughtfully).
Ten? Of course! “The
height of the one cherub was ten cubits”—also there
ten brass lavers, in Solomon's Temple.
Nathanael.
I took a note of the total at the time,
but I have unfortunately mislaid it.
John
(turning towards them).
I remember the
number—I remember it distinctly. There were an
hundred and fifty and three fishes—and that is very
curious, for when I was a boy I was told by old
Rabbi Jekuthiel that there are exactly that number of
different species of fish. There is a meaning in
this: when the Master told us that he would make
us “fishers of men,” he meant—evidently—that our
preaching was to reach the whole world without
exception; our net is to enclose converts of every
possible kind.
James the Less.
A still more wonderful thing
happened the other day. Have you not heard of it?
The collector came round for the Temple tax; the
Master told Peter to fling a line into the lake—the
very first fish he caught (a roach it was) had in his
mouth the exact coin required to pay the tax.
Judas.
The obliging roach! Pass the grapes.
Thomas.
I don't believe that story of the fish. It
seems to me a childish fairy legend, too like those
heathen tales we have all heard of. What I believe
took place was this: Jesus sent Peter to fish—he
caught a fish, sold it, and paid the tax with the
money he received. That is an instance of the way
mouth; especially when there are women at hand to
magnify and exaggerate it.
Simon Zelotes.
You are always for doubting everything,
Thomas. Philip's sister told me she saw the
fish, with the stater—a bright new one—glittering
in its mouth.
Thomas.
It was the hook that glittered in its
mouth—not the stater.
Philip.
No: I believe my sister was right. For
that matter, John the Baptist has himself performed
very wonderful miracles; why should not our Master
do the same?
John
(to Matthew).
You devote too much time
and thought to those endless genealogies of yours.
The Master tells us to love God and man, to visit
the sick, to help the poor, to deliver the oppressed,
to comfort the friendless, but you pass your whole
time in counting the generations between Abraham
and Jesus—and, for all your counting, they never
come out right.
Matthew.
There are certain difficulties, I confess.
The prophet said, “Behold a virgin shall conceive,
and bear a son.”
Thomas.
Joseph would have a word to say to that,
I should fancy.
John.
Then again: according to your idea the
Master should have been born at Bethlehem, “the
city of David”—but he wasn't. On the contrary, he
was born at Nazareth.
I admit that that is a pity, I admit it
freely. In fact, it worries me a good deal. However,
there are ways—
Peter.
He saved me and my old boat, that is all
I know. That is enough for me.
Andrew.
And for me too!
John.
And for me!
Judas.
Pass the wine.
James the Elder
(to Simon Zelotes).
That man
thinks of nothing but wine. Since the marriage at
Cana he seems to suppose that the Master's store is
unlimited.
Simon Zelotes
(to James).
I hardly know why, but
I distrust him greatly.
(Enter Jesus suddenly).
Jesus.
Peace be with you!
(All rising).
Hail, Master!
| Jesus of Nazareth | |