Your ShelfYour Projects

Shiloh: the Man of Sorrows

2%

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, Cal. · Dec 20, 1910

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 37, No. 50.

Read the full edition

Shiloh: the Man of Sorrows

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

XLIV.—Plotting the Death of Lazarus

“O, Jazer! Whither goest thou at such a pace, man? Art thou pursued by the furies of Gehenna?”
“Is it thou, Demas? Wherefore dost thou mock me?” And the scribe, scarcely slackening his pace, hurried onward.
“Stop, man! for it is thou alone to whom I am sent by my master, even Annas the high priest; and, verily, I had thought to find thee at thine own house, whither I was sent!” exclaimed the servant, breathlessly hastening to overtake the scribe, and placing a rude hand familiarly upon his shoulder.
As if resentful of the fellow’s boldness, and trying to avoid him, Jazer shook off the detaining hand almost fiercely; for he was in no mood to converse with any one, least of all an emissary from the palace of Annas. And so he turned hurriedly down an unfrequented street. But the sound of pursuing footsteps at last caused him to halt and turn his head impatiently.
“Look thou, fellow, I care not for speech with thee to-night, for my soul is sore vexed. Leave me, that I may commune with mine own heart!” And Jazer turned his uneasy, fiery eyes upon the man.
“Thou wast not in such hot haste when thou didst accept the bribe of the high priest, my master, to-day,” sneered the other. “Wherefore art thou so lofty, as if already thou didst sit in the Sanhedrin? Verily, I know thy hidden secret, and the naughtiness of thine heart, O Jazer!” And Demas laughed boisterously.
The sun had already set on that eventful day, and the streets of the busy city were growing dark.
The scribe turned desperately, like a hunted animal. “What wilt thou? Deliver thine errand, and depart.”
“Now thou speakest wisely, O Jazer. Why shouldest thou avoid me? Serve we not one master? Now will we sit here, even under the shadow of the great tower of Antonio, and I will tell thee my business, that no man may know but thee and me.” And Demas lowered his voice to a deep whisper, and again grasping an arm of the scribe, forced him to be seated with him, on a piece of limestone rock which lay in the shadow.
“Forget not, O Jazer,” admonished Demas, “that thou hast sold thyself to do the work of Annas and Caiaphas, as well as I; and truly the high priest payeth us handsomely. He hath already promised me half a talent of silver for the work I am to do for him, and he will give to thee even more, Jazer, if thou do thy work well.”
At mention of the silver, the deep eyes of the scribe gleamed with a greedy light, and the tones of his voice changed to those of fawning cordiality as he made answer:
“Verily, a scribe of the holy temple could not serve the interests of Israel better than by doing the bidding of the high priest.”
“Of a truth thou art a man of wisdom, O Jazer. Now I know that thou art also a friend of the man Lazarus, of Bethany—as indeed am I. But thou knowest, O Jazer, that after having walked from his sepulcher at the call of the Nazarene, this man is a constant proof of the power of the Necromancer. Indeed, many already believe on Him on account of this day’s work—and that which their own eyes have seen.” And Demas waited the reply of the scribe.
“Verily, Demas; but I shall declare unto all men, that this Nazarene worketh miracles through Beelzebub. Will not the common people believe the words of a scribe of the holy temple?”
For reply, Demas, the Sadducee, bent his body until his lips almost touched the ear of the scribe, and hissed:
“The man Lazarus must die! Come thou to-night, at the seventh hour, to the palace of Annas; and behold, Shaphan the rabbi of Nazareth will be there also, and two or three of the Pharisees. There it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. Behold! the high priest hath bidden thee.”
The next instant Demas arose, and without further word, hurried away down the darkening street, leaving the scribe alone.
It was a motley company that gathered at the seventh hour that night in a secret chamber of the palace of the high priest. This was to be a meeting in which every man present was accounted equal. There was to be no formality—no dignity. Annas and Caiaphas, about whose pompous persons to the ordinary Jewish mind was thrown a sort of sacred halo, on this night had opened the door of the inner chamber of the luxurious palace as cordially to the hired assassin as to priest or scribe. The utmost secrecy was preserved, and the door swung not upon its hinges except by permission of the doorkeeper—a trusted servant of Annas, whom we recognize, even in the dim light, as none other than the man Demas.
At length the stated number had arrived: Jazer the scribe, Shaphan the rabbi, and one other,—a burly ruffian of immense size whom Demas called Rufus.
This man, whom these sanctimonious priests would have scorned even to recognize at any other time, upon this occasion was welcomed. We have heard nothing from this man Rufus since the day of the murder of the prophet of the wilderness. We can not forget the part he acted in that horrible tragedy, nor that this is the son of Varro.
Besides these, there were present two or three others of the chief priests and Pharisees. In spite of the seclusion of the chamber, the lateness of the hour, and the improbability that any mortal ear could overhear their words, the conversation was carried on almost entirely in whispers.
“Of a truth,” began Annas, “we all know that the peace of Israel is in danger; and if we allow this Nazarene to go unpunished, all men will run after Him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.” And Annas stroked his white beard nervously.
“What shall we do then?” asked the high priest, coming to the point in question cautiously; for every human heart, however hardened, must tremble at the bare suggestion of robbing another of life,—that wonderful thing which none but the Almighty can give.
“What shall we do?” repeated Caiaphas; “for this Necromancer endangereth the peace of the nation. I am told that this day He hath brought the appearance of a man—even Lazarus of Bethany—from his sepulcher.” And Caiaphas raised his bulging eyes uneasily toward the scribe Jazer.
“The miracle was performed in sight of all the people, O Caiaphas!” responded the scribe impulsively.
The high priest raised a warning finger at the speaker, who cowered before him, and added quickly: “The high priests are the messengers of Jehovah, appointed by Him to safeguard the best interests of Israel. Surely we can best serve Him by doing their bidding. And of a truth,” he added, rolling his sunken eyes sanctimoniously upward, and nervously adjusting the broad phylactery upon his arm, “it hath been decreed aforetime that the sorcerer must die; for even thus saith Moses in the law.”
“The scribe hath well said!” responded Annas; “and since the man Lazarus but showeth forth the power of the Nazarene, is it not for the best interests of the nation that he die also?”
“But how shall we bring about the end of these pestilent fellows—these troublers of Israel?” It was Shaphan, the rabbi of Nazareth, who put the question.
“Is it not to settle this point that we are bidden to-night?” suggested Demas, the doorkeeper; “and see, I have brought Rufus, one of the guards of Herod, who hath lately come down from Tiberias to Jerusalem, with his master, before the Passover. I have brought him that he may do thy bidding, O Annas; for verily, all men believe that this Jesus of Nazareth will go up to Jerusalem to the feast, that He may be crowned king.”
“What do ye require of me?” interrupted Rufus, “and what will ye give me, O ye priests of Israel? Tell me of a certainty, that I may know; for ye be well able to give me my price, and to line my pocket with silver.”
“The man Lazarus, of Bethany, must die!” explained Annas, in a hoarse whisper. “What is thy price?”
“But if I be not able!” exclaimed the ruffian mockingly, stretching out his giant arms toward the high priest.
“Thou art able,” replied Caiaphas patronizingly.
“But who is this Lazarus?—A pestilent fellow, I have no doubt; but how shall I know him?”
“Jazer the scribe knoweth him well, dost thou not, Jazer! and behold—”
“Will it not be best, O Annas,” interrupted Caiaphas, “on account of thine age and thy wisdom, to make known to these men those things which in thy wisdom—and mine—we have determined must be done for the safety of Israel?”
“And make thy words brief, O thou high priest,” haughtily demanded Rufus, “for I am minded to return unto Herod, my master, before the rising of the sun.”
“Verily, then,” declared Annas boldly, stroking his long white beard with his wrinkled fingers, crossed by the straps of the phylactery, “verily it hath been determined that this scribe Jazer shall visit the house of Lazarus at Bethany, to-morrow, as the sun goeth down, and behold, Jazer shall walk with him in the garden. They two shall be alone,—they two. And thou, Rufus, shalt pass by that way, and smite him—the man of Bethany—that he die; for behold, he troubleth Israel. And verily, if he die, we shall declare boldly that he hath been all the time dead. And thou, Shaphan, thy part shall be to follow up this Sorcerer of Nazareth, thou and Demas with thee—for behold, He hath gone down to Ephraim, near the wilderness of Judea—and inform us of His whereabouts, that we may apprehend and bring Him to trial, that He may die. So shall the land rest!” And Annas rolled his fiery eyes sanctimoniously upward.
“What dost thou advise, Rabbi Shaphan?” questioned Caiaphas, well knowing the jealous nature of the rabbi. But this astute teacher had not been consulted soon enough, and he feared that the scribe Jazer was receiving a more important commission than had been accorded to himself; accordingly, he felt minded to disagree with the counsel already given, and even to go so far as to suggest an entirely different mode of procedure.
“Seest thou not, O Caiaphas,” replied the rabbi, assuming an air of superior wisdom, while his beady eyes gleamed craftily, “seest thou not, that if there be marks of violence upon the man’s body, we can not say that he died of fever, and hath been all the time dead? And now the Passover is at hand; and this Nazarene Sorcerer will come up to Jerusalem. And behold, it hath been told me that Simon the leper maketh a feast for Him, because He hath healed him also by His necromancy; and surely, now, the household of Lazarus will be there, for they be friends—”
“But what wouldest thou, man?” snarled Rufus; “because I be a soldier of Herod Antipas, dost thou think me able to smite all the company which shall be gathered at the feast?”
“Thou shalt smite no man—thou art a heathen dog!” hissed the rabbi, quite forgetting the presence of the high priest in his jealous anger. “I know thee! Aha! Aha! Thy father is a Samaritan dog, and thy mother a Roman. Lazarus of Bethany shall die, but not by thy hand!” Then turning to Caiaphas, half apologetically, Shaphan continued: “I know that the young man Lazarus lovethsweet wine; and behold, I be already invited to the feast of Simon. Let me alone, that I, even I, Shaphan the rabbi, may confound the words of this man Lazarus, at the supper; for who understandeth the traditions of the fathers, better than I, a rabbi and a Pharisee? And now, what think ye? Is it not better for an Israelite to die by the poison of the cup, than by the sword of this heathen, as did the Baptizer of the wilderness?”
“Verily, it is best, O rabbi; thou hast well said,” assented Caiaphas.
“Thy words are fitly spoken!” echoed Annas; “and if these pestilent fellows but die, we care not by whose hand they perish.”
“But, by the gods of Rome—the gods of my mother,” snarled Rufus, rising threateningly, and moving toward the door, “unless ye pay me well for my silence, surely ye shall find that Rufus hath a tongue!”
Caiaphas hastily rose, and conducting him to the door, thrust a handful of yellow coin into his hand, whispering:
“Behold, this shall buy thy silence!”
The ruffian nodded his burly head, and was gone.
(To be continued)