not in anger. She said: “Listen, my daughter, and hearken and keep my word in remembrance: the man who but now passed by, like the shadow of a bird flying between the sun and the earth, shall prevail against the Caesars and the empire of the Caesars. He shall wrestle with the crownèd bull of Chaldea, and the man-headed lion of Egypt, and He shall overcome them; and He shall rule the world.
“But this land that now He walks shall come to naught; and Jerusalem, which sits proudly upon the hill, shall drift away in smoke upon the wind of desolation.”
When she spoke thus, my laughter turned to stillness and I was quiet. Then I said: “Who is this man, and of what country and tribe does He come? And how shall He conquer the great kings and the empires of the great kings?”
And she answered: “He is one born here in this land, but we have conceived Him in our longing from the beginning of years. He is of all tribes and yet of none. He shall conquer by the word of His mouth and by the flame of His spirit.”
Then suddenly she rose and stood up like a pinnacle of rock; and she said: “May the angel of the Lord forgive me for pronouncing this word also: He shall be slain, and His youth shall be shrouded, and He shall be laid in silence beside the tongueless heart of the earth. And the maidens of Judea shall weep for Him.”
Then she lifted her hand skyward and spoke again, and she said: “But He shall be slain only in the body.
“In the spirit He shall rise and go forth leading His host from this land where the sun is born, to the land where the sun is slain at eventide.
“And His name shall be first among men.”
She was an aged seeress when she said these things, and I was but a girl, a field unploughed, a stone not yet in a wall.
But all that she beheld in the mirror of her mind has come to pass even in my day.
Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead and led men and women unto the people of the sunset. The city that yielded Him to judgment was given unto destruction; and in the Judgment Hall where He was tried and sentenced, the owl hoots a dirge while the night weeps the dew of her heart upon the fallen marble.
And I am an old woman, and the years bend me down. My people are no more and my race is vanished.
I saw Him but once again after that day, and once again heard His voice. It was upon a hilltop when He was talking to His friends and followers.
And now I am old and alone, yet still He visits my dreams.
He comes like a white angel with pinions; and with His grace He hushes my dread of darkness. And He uplifts me to dreams yet more distant.
I am still a field unploughed, a ripe fruit that would not fall. The most that I possess is the warmth of the sun, and the memory of that man.
I know that among my people these shall not rise again king nor prophet nor priest, even as the sister of my father foretold.
We shall pass with the flowing of the rivers, and we shall be nameless.
But those who crossed Him in midstream shall be remembered for crossing Him in midstream.
Manasseh, a Lawyer in Jerusalem
Yes, I used to hear Him speak. There was always a ready word upon His lips.
But I admired Him as a man rather than as a leader. He preached something beyond my liking, perhaps beyond my reason. And I would have no man preach to me.
I was taken by His voice and His gestures, but not by the substance of His speech. He charmed me but never convinced me; for He was too vague, too distant and obscure to reach my mind.
I have known other men like Him. They are never constant nor are they consistent. It is with eloquence not with principles that they hold your ear and your passing thought, but never the core of your heart.
What a pity that His enemies confronted Him and forced the issue. It was not necessary. I believe their hostility will add to His stature and turn His mildness to power.
For is it not strange that in opposing a man you give Him courage? And in staying His feet you give Him wings?
I know not His enemies, yet I am certain that in their fear of a harmless man they have lent Him strength and made Him dangerous.
Jephtha of Caesarea
This man who fills your day and haunts your night is repellent to me. Yet you would tire my eyes with His sayings and my mind with His deeds.
I am weary of His words, and all that He did. His very name offends me, and the name of His countryside. I will none of Him.
Why make you a prophet of a man who was but a shadow? Why see a tower in this sand-dune, or imagine a lake in the raindrops gathered together in this hoof-print?
I scorn not the echo of caves in valleys nor the long shadows of the sunset; but I would not listen to the deceptions that hum in your head, nor study the reflections in your eyes.
What word did Jesus utter that Hillel had not spoken? What wisdom did He reveal that was not of Gamaliel? What are His lispings to the voice of Philo? What cymbals did He beat that were not beaten ere ever He lived?
I hearken to the echo from the caves into the silent valleys, and I gaze upon the long shadows of sunset; but I would not have this man’s heart echo the sound of another heart, nor would I have a shadow of the seers call himself a prophet.
What man shall speak
