"I will watch with great care these little nightingales so that they may live in the thicket by the spring just over the garden wall. And next year when Zador Ben Amon doth pass with his camel train from Damascus will their sweet song welcome him home."
"No greater guest doth come to the Passover than Zador Ben Amon€"and he hath an interest in thee, Mary."
"Yea€"a greater than he hath come to the Passover," said Anna. "From Rome hath Pilate come, so sayeth my father, and with a retinue of servants that doth make Herod green with envy. And speech hath it that the wife of Pilate doth dazzle the eye with such gorgeous apparel as is seen only in the Roman circus."
"Glad is my heart," said Martha, "that Herod be undone in the glory of display for apeth he not the Romans? Herod is great when there is none greater, but ever doth Rome send the greatest."
"Nay, not Rome sends the greatest to the Passover." It was Debora who spoke. "From Capernaum cometh he."
"Capernaum of Galilee?" Martha exclaimed. "The home of fishermen?"
"Yea, verily. From Galilee doth a prophet come the like of which hath not been seen since Elias was taken in a chariot of fire and whirlwind."
"Thou dost speak strange words," Mary observed. "Who is this prophet?"
"He is called Jesus of Nazareth, for there did he live before his home was at Capernaum."
"Nazareth," Anna repeated with curling lip. "Nazareth is a town of beggars and thieves, so sayeth my father. Can any good thing come out of Nazareth? My father hath mentioned the name of Jesus€"was he at the Passover feast last year?"
"Yea, and the Feast of Tabernacles," Debora answered.
"Jesus of Nazareth," Martha repeated, putting her hand to her forehead. "Methinks Lazarus did mention the name when Joseph of Arimathea was our guest. Dost thou remember, Mary?"
"The name? Yea, I remember. But what of it? None said he was a prophet."
"Listen," Debora said, leaning eagerly forward and half whispering: "Knowest thou not that Israel hath long been dispersed and scattered like sheep without a shepherd? Knowest thou not that the cohorts of Rome guard the Sacred Temple and profane the Sanctuary of the Most High? Knowest thou not the heart of Israel hath long waited for the king who shall restore again the throne of David? And knowest thou not that the time is at hand for the coming of the promised one? Aye, even so hath he already come, and his name is Jesus."
"By what sign is he the Messiah?" Mary asked.
"By the sign of a prophet, and the greatest of all prophets is he. Once was I at the home of Peter when his wife's mother lay sick of a fever. Her skin was hot as if her couch were in a bake oven; her eyes did shine and vain was her babbling. Then came the Prophet of Galilee. On her head where the heat raged he placed his hand. Close and firm he held it as if he were holding down a struggling world. And lo! The struggling world grew quiet. The vain babbling of the parched lips ceased. Then did he speak. Aye€"Mary, Martha, Anna€"to hear his voice€"deep like unsounded depths, mellow like the music of the viol and restful as when small waves play upon smooth shores. Twice did he speak. There was stillness. His eyes were fastened kindly on the face of her who lay beneath his touch. Then did she open her eyes. Her lips did part in a smile. She arose and by the open casement did stand to breathe deep of the cool air. And those who had gathered in the street to set up the death-wail, did cry, 'A miracle! A miracle!'"
"No greater guest doth come to the Passover than Zador Ben Amon€"and he hath an interest in thee, Mary."
"Yea€"a greater than he hath come to the Passover," said Anna. "From Rome hath Pilate come, so sayeth my father, and with a retinue of servants that doth make Herod green with envy. And speech hath it that the wife of Pilate doth dazzle the eye with such gorgeous apparel as is seen only in the Roman circus."
"Glad is my heart," said Martha, "that Herod be undone in the glory of display for apeth he not the Romans? Herod is great when there is none greater, but ever doth Rome send the greatest."
"Nay, not Rome sends the greatest to the Passover." It was Debora who spoke. "From Capernaum cometh he."
"Capernaum of Galilee?" Martha exclaimed. "The home of fishermen?"
"Yea, verily. From Galilee doth a prophet come the like of which hath not been seen since Elias was taken in a chariot of fire and whirlwind."
"Thou dost speak strange words," Mary observed. "Who is this prophet?"
"He is called Jesus of Nazareth, for there did he live before his home was at Capernaum."
"Nazareth," Anna repeated with curling lip. "Nazareth is a town of beggars and thieves, so sayeth my father. Can any good thing come out of Nazareth? My father hath mentioned the name of Jesus€"was he at the Passover feast last year?"
"Yea, and the Feast of Tabernacles," Debora answered.
"Jesus of Nazareth," Martha repeated, putting her hand to her forehead. "Methinks Lazarus did mention the name when Joseph of Arimathea was our guest. Dost thou remember, Mary?"
"The name? Yea, I remember. But what of it? None said he was a prophet."
"Listen," Debora said, leaning eagerly forward and half whispering: "Knowest thou not that Israel hath long been dispersed and scattered like sheep without a shepherd? Knowest thou not that the cohorts of Rome guard the Sacred Temple and profane the Sanctuary of the Most High? Knowest thou not the heart of Israel hath long waited for the king who shall restore again the throne of David? And knowest thou not that the time is at hand for the coming of the promised one? Aye, even so hath he already come, and his name is Jesus."
"By what sign is he the Messiah?" Mary asked.
"By the sign of a prophet, and the greatest of all prophets is he. Once was I at the home of Peter when his wife's mother lay sick of a fever. Her skin was hot as if her couch were in a bake oven; her eyes did shine and vain was her babbling. Then came the Prophet of Galilee. On her head where the heat raged he placed his hand. Close and firm he held it as if he were holding down a struggling world. And lo! The struggling world grew quiet. The vain babbling of the parched lips ceased. Then did he speak. Aye€"Mary, Martha, Anna€"to hear his voice€"deep like unsounded depths, mellow like the music of the viol and restful as when small waves play upon smooth shores. Twice did he speak. There was stillness. His eyes were fastened kindly on the face of her who lay beneath his touch. Then did she open her eyes. Her lips did part in a smile. She arose and by the open casement did stand to breathe deep of the cool air. And those who had gathered in the street to set up the death-wail, did cry, 'A miracle! A miracle!'"