“The Virgin Mary unquestionably holds forever a peculiar position among all women in the history of redemption. Perfectly natural, yea, essential to a sound religious feeling, it is to associate with Mary, the fairest traits of maidenly and maternal character, and to revere her as the highest model of female love and power.”—Prof. Philip Schaff’s Church History.
“There’s a footman at the door; the good man that talks, I think; he would speak with Cornelius.”
With such words, at sunrise one morning a few weeks after the May-day service, the missioners of Bethany were aroused by an attendant. Quickly robing himself, the young chaplain went forth, and, sure enough, the Hospitaler stood before him.
“Selamet; but what haste brings our ever-welcome friend so early?”
“To relieve your minds! I’ve purchased immunity! The Mameluke sheik, at Jerusalem, has secured the Sultan’s revocation of the order of razing and banishment,” answered the knight. Cornelius gazed at the Hospitaler with anxiety, questioning within himself as to whether the knight had taken leave of his reason or not.
The abrupt soldier-priest perceiving the perplexity of his hearer broke forth: “Why the edict that the[569] Temple on the hill be despoiled, and the ‘Angels of the Mount’ be summarily driven out of Syria, has been rescinded; the ‘Faithful,’ as those infidels style themselves, have been converted; seen a great light which came by mighty gold.”
“All Saints defend us! I did not hear of this. Tell me all!” exclaimed Cornelius.
“Not now; the peril is past. I knew it was impending sometime, and supposed ye did. I promised a reward, if time were given. I got money help from foreign knights. The vandals took it with a mighty thirst, and then with a great show of piety promised toleration.”
“I see, as usual with them, great gain with godliness is contentment; but what are we on the mount to do?”
“Go on; the Sultan isn’t God, nor his sheik the Devil.”
“The Hospitaler comforts. Now let us enter and breakfast together, that we may get wisdom by conferring.”
“I may not tarry longer; I staid all night without the city’s wall so as not to be delayed by awaiting the gate-opening. I must be with my companions by the time the Moslems have ended their first prayers, or my comrades will be alarmed. I’ll return to-morrow.”
Another dawn, another noon, and another sunset, came and went; but the knight did not reappear at Bethany. The chaplain vainly tried to suppress his anxiety. He feared some treachery on the sheik’s part. Again and again the former went to the house-top to look along the Jerusalem road. It was a hot June day; the watchings flushed the young man’s face[570] but fears’ rigors in the heart paled it. He was a picture of misery. Darkness followed sunset; then came tidings:
“There’s a company with garlands and torches coming around the bend!”
The news was brought by a company of Sisters of Bethany. The missioner was excited, yet reasoned:
“Garlands and torches! Their bearers can not have baleful report nor evil designs.”
The visitants quickly arrived, and singing a roundelay, encircled the house of Cornelius and Miriamne. With delight the latter recognized the Hospitaler and his companion knights. With them were a number of the friends of the new movement at Bethany. They also observed, standing by his camel, a little aloof, a tall, gaunt man, garbed as a Druse; by him, an elderly woman, and also a maiden.
“’Tis Nourahmal and her grand-child!” whispered Miriamne, following her husband’s questioning eyes.
“The maiden wears the flower crown of a bride, and see, there is a young man by her side!”
The Hospitaler interrupted their converse:
“I’ve kept my promise to the ‘Angels of the Mount’ and to God. I’m here, and to celebrate a proper thanksgiving!”
“Welcome! Now command us,” exclaimed Miriamne. “Yea, welcome, though coming in mystery!”
“Another surprise, good chaplain? Well, ’tis fitting, since this one is cheering. There was need of offset to thy painful astonishment of yesterday. I’ve trapped a wolf for our festivities.”
“A wolf!” exclaimed Miriamne.
“Yes, even the sheik. He swore that he’d make[571] all Bethany bald by fire and sword if it were attempted here to establish a Christian church. To him I explained that the work on the hill was festal. Praise God, it is to be such, to all eternity! And Miriamne’s disavowal of the title church, the use of the appellations ‘Pool of Bethesda,’ ‘House of Mercy,’ ‘Temple of Allegory,’ and the like, by your followers in the city, concerning your place of gathering, helped the righteous diversion. I finished the argument by parading with my cortege, as you see us now. Indeed I even asked the sheik to come to the wedding!”
“A wedding?”
“The cruel sheik invited?”
“Two questions and two questioners to be answered with more surprises. Nourahmal’s grand-daughter, Beulah, is to be joined to a Jewish convert! I asked the sheik to attend with us as one of her next akin; for I believe him to be a son of Azrael, though he denies that parentage, as well he may, since the ‘Angel of Death’ was strangled at Bagdad for treason. Be assured, Miriamne, the young Mohammedan will not be present at our ceremonies to-night!”
“Will wonders never cease?” spoke Cornelius, at a loss to know what to say.
“No. Let us be going now,” abruptly spoke the Hospitaler.
“Do you return to the city so soon?” queried Miriamne.
The question was answered indirectly:
“Let’s to the temple, or ‘House of Bethesda.’ I’ve taken the liberty to order its illumination. Come, we’ll see how its jasmines climb on its sturdy walls by the light of the torches kindled for hymen!”
[572]
So saying, the Hospitaler turned in the direction mentioned, and all, including the missioners, followed him. The scene was fairy-like. There were lights and flowers and songs. The feasters from Jerusalem were in holiday attire, and those of the villagers that joined in the concourse were hearty participants in the festivities.
Arriving at the temple, the Hospitaler led Beulah toward the speaker’s dais.
“Will not the camel-driver enter?” questioned the knight of a companion.
“No; he’s half way back to the city by this time.”
“Stand by thy other self,” said the knight to the Jewish groom.
The latter obeyed with alacrity; his zeal and his bashfulness precluding grace of action.
“Four hands clasped; crossed,” said the Hospitaler.
The twain did as commanded, the youth with avidity, the maid with a timorous, modest reserve. The touch of each, electric to the other, was recorded in their faces, over which passed rapidly a poem of emotion. The audience became silent, hushed by admiration akin to adoration. The old, old, yet ever new, ever-entrancing spectacle of love’s full crowning, brought to all minds the splendor and holiness of that royal gift which finds in earth its completest unfoldment in wedlock. Each of the auditors, conscious of admiration of the presentment, was also conscious of self-approving. There is a cleansing of conscience like that which follows prayer in the act of heartily approbating the thing which is good and beautiful. With the espoused for his inspiration and his background of light, the Hospitaler, with his usual abruptness, began addressing the assembly:
[573]
“You of the East hear best when your eyes are treated together with your ears, hence I speak at this time, most propitious, of themes pertinent. You have heard how the ancient Romans named this month, deemed by them favorable to marriage, Junonius, in honor of their chaste and prudent goddess of conjugal life. She was the Hera of the Greeks, the only lawfully wedded goddess of all their mythologies. The myths prove that those pagans discerned the potency and beauty of holy wedlock. They polished jewels and wove girdles for its personifications, and to-night, in this temple dedicated to womanhood at her best, I’d take the girdle and crown and place them upon the Queen of Women, the peerless Virgin. For such a real woman the ancients were seeking when they had their dream of the myths. She was what they yearned for, and her exaltation as the representative of all that she truly did represent, will be found of lasting profit to all. Behold her, an orphan girl, yet by faith having an Eternal Father. As a girl, abhorring waywardness; as a woman, therefore, free from wantonness. Mark me, ye maidens, the wayward becomes the wanton. Coquetry brushes the down from the cheek of the peach, and she that frivolously plays with passion in the morning will be likely to seek the groves of Astarte at noon. Our ideal woman reached maidenhood’s roses all portionless, as world-help is counted, but with the inestimable affluence of prudence, constancy and purity. Thus she set the finest youths of all Jewry to striving for her heart and hand. What Juno was to Rome, Mary was to Israel. The Romans proclaimed their faith in the good wife as the producer and conserver of wealth by putting their mint in their temple of ‘Juno-Moneta.’ The carpenter of Nazareth, building up a clean, honest, though humble home, by the aid of his consort, built more enduringly, and presents a finer historical figure, than that once mighty, once wise Solomon; though the latter erected the wondrous Temple. The home and love of Joseph and Mary will be praised by the ages that abhor the ivory houses of pleasure of the great and fallen king. The story of that home life at Nazareth has not been written, and we must gather it from fragments and eloquent silence. Mary’s jewels as a wife were unostentatiously treasured within the four walls of her domicile. The devastating tornado leaves enduring, though hateful[574] history; but the constant, man-blessing tides of the ocean come and go without having their recurring blessings recorded. So the constant, loyal, patient woman of Nazareth passed noiselessly by in her day. Her exclamation to the Angel of the Annunciation, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it unto me according to thy word,’ was the keynote of that life ever enhanced by the beauty of duty. There was submission to right because it was righteous. And this was not mere passiveness. You remember how she challenged her Son in His early youth, that time He was absent for a season from His parents, at first without explanation? The words Mary spoke that day burn like polished gems when considered aright: ‘Why hast thou dealt thus with us? Behold, thy father and I have sought thee, sorrowing.’ She did not forget her Son’s divine origin, but exalted the rights of motherhood and fatherhood, confident that even Deity could not ignore them. She challenged the right of a son to cause parental sorrow without instant strong reason for so doing. She put her husband’s cause before her own, and made his honor her sacred wifely trust. There are in this history some very fine things expressed by implication. We know the woman was beautiful and much younger than her husband; the disparity of years did not hinder full affinity. She did not fall into the weakness of feeling self-sufficient and all-complacent because feeling pretty. All she was and all she had was centred in her consort as a commonwealth between him and her. That the sycophant and flatterer crossed her path there can be no doubt; but she who was not intoxicated by Bethlehem’s gloria in excelsis could not be dazzled by the honeyed words of mortals. Wearing such a wife on his heart, Joseph was rich indeed. Silence is once more eloquent. We know that the mother of Jesus, having been widowed, never wed again. Her first love suffered no eclipse. That she was courted, after her spouse’s death, we must believe. The mother of a Son so famous as was hers, and the possessor of personal charms enshrining a soul that knew how to utilize sorrows until they became refinements, doubtless had many suitors in her widowhood days. And there was no law............