Shiloh: the Man of Sorrows by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Nov 29, 1910

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 37, No. 47.

Shiloh: the Man of Sorrows

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Chapter XL.—Mourning at Bethany

LESS than two miles to the east of Jerusalem, on the Jericho road, lay the little village of Bethany. Even in the days of which I write, it was scarcely more than a suburb of Jerusalem, on the farther slope of the Mount of Olives.

To-day Bethany is but a tiny hamlet, containing perhaps a score of miserable houses.

But it is not about the Bethany of to-day that we are thinking as we tread the familiar streets made sacred by the feet of the Man of Galilee. The home of Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary, is near at hand. Let us enter. The house is considerably more imposing in architecture than those in the vicinity.

The sun has already dropped behind Olivet, and the sighing of the damp evening breeze makes doleful music among the palms.

Our friend Matthias is speaking with Machbor, the ruler, of Jericho. They are standing in the outer court, and are about to enter. We will enter with them.

We are saddened to hear the discordant voice of mourners and the sound of weeping. A beautiful woman, conspicuous for her long and abundant tresses, sits with head bowed in her hands. Another, older than she, with an expression of deepest anxiety upon her broad white brow, is sitting near her, while many friends who have come down from Jerusalem are also in this and adjoining chambers. These have come,—some of them,—that they might mingle their tears of sorrow with those of the afflicted sisters; others ostensibly to weep, but could the real heart of some in that mourning company have been read, instead of sympathetic mourners, they would have been called by their true names—hypocrites and spies.

Jazer, the scribe of the temple, and Jonathan the son of Annas the high priest, have ceased their loud and noisy expressions of sympathy for a moment, that they may listen to the newcomers, and possibly learn the whereabouts of Jesus of Nazareth, the beloved and absent Friend of the afflicted family. In fact, this is their real errand.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the older sister glanced expectantly toward the outer doorway.

“Behold, my sister, weep not; for here is Matthias, the son of Sylvanus, even he whom we sent to the Master; for of a truth he is a good man, and bringeth good tidings;” and the woman hastened to her sister’s side, and attempted to raise the bowed head.

“Trouble me not, Martha. How can good come to me? Hast thou forgotten that our brother hath lain in the grave for two days? Then why speakest thou of good tidings?”

“What sayest thou, Mary Magdalene!” exclaimed Matthias, stepping to the side of the weeping woman; “what sayest thou? and where is my friend Lazarus whom I left sick unto death, that I might bring hither thy Master and mine?”

Again the head of Mary Magdalene drooped upon her bosom; but Martha replied bitterly:

“Sawest thou indeed the Master, Matthias? Where sawest thou Him?”

“Verily, I saw the Master,” is the astonished reply. “I saw Him in Perea, beyond Jordan.”

“What saidest thou unto Him?”

“Even that which thou didst bid me: ‘Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick.’”

As soon as the conversation turned directly upon the Man of Nazareth, Jonathan son of Annas arose and hurried toward Matthias. Instantly the role of sympathetic mourner was exchanged for that of the shrewd, crafty detective. Still was the priest diplomatic enough carefully to veil his venom under the guise of a quiet exterior and a calm smile, as he asked:

“Sayest thou, Matthias, that thou sawest thy Master, the Nazarene, in Perea beyond Jordan, and didst tell Him of the sickness of our friend Lazarus? Tell us of a truth, what said He, thou son of Sylvanus?”

Matthias gazed keenly at the priest before he replied:

“‘This sickness is not unto death; but that the Son of God might be glorified.’ Even so saith the Nazarene—my Master.”

The expression upon the face of the questioner was one of fiendish triumph, as he repeated sneeringly, “‘Not unto death!’ Indeed, thou son of Sylvanus! when wilt thou learn that this Nazarene is no prophet? for as the Lord liveth, He speaketh falsely!”

“He speaketh falsely indeed!” echoed Jazer, with a fierce scowl, as he shook his grizzly head. “Knowest thou not, O Matthias, that Lazarus is dead, and hath lain in the sepulcher of his fathers now two whole days!”

An expression of intense pain flitted like a shadow over the face of Mary Magdalene at those words, while a look of deep indignation settled upon the troubled countenance of Martha as she replied quickly:

“And yet, Jazer, thou hast seen how our Master hath healed this my sister; and thou knowest that His hand hath restored our neighbor, Simon the leper, so that his flesh is like to the flesh of a little child, and he dwelleth with his wife Prisca, even here in Bethany; and thou knowest of the daughter of Jairus, and young Reuben of Nain,—”

“Why dost thou speak of Simon?” interrupted Jazer sneeringly; “for even this man who thou declarest was healed by the Man, believeth not in Him,—he even doubteth whether He be at all a prophet; for thus said he unto me this day. And why speakest thou of the daughter of the ruler Jairus? Thy Master Himself said plainly, ‘The maid is not dead, but sleepeth!’”

An expression of heavenly peace for the moment glorified Martha’s countenance, “Lazarus is dead,” repeated Martha softly, “but I believe that even now, whatsoever our Master asketh of God, He will give Him!”

(To be continued)