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第197章

I can remember, many years ago, A little bright-eyed school-boy, a mere stripling, Son of a Galilean carpenter, From Nazareth, I think, who came one day And sat here in the Temple with the Scribes, Hearing us speak, and asking many questions, And we were all astonished at his quickness.

And when his mother came, and said: Behold Thy father and I have sought thee, sorrowing;He looked as one astonished, and made answer, How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not That I must be about my Father's business?

Often since then I see him here among us, Or dream I see him, with his upraised face Intent and eager, and I often wonder Unto what manner of manhood he hath grown!

Perhaps a poor mechanic like his father, Lost in his little Galilean village And toiling at his craft, to die unknown And he no more remembered among men.

CHRISTUS, in the outer court.

The Scribes and Pharisees sit in Moses' seat;All, therefore, whatsoever they command you, Observe and do; but follow not their works They say and do not.They bind heavy burdens And very grievous to be borne, and lay them Upon men's shoulders, but they move them not With so much as a finger!

GAMALIEL, looking forth.

Who is this Exhorting in the outer courts so loudly?

CHRISTUS.

Their works they do for to he seen of men.

They make broad their phylacteries, and enlarge The borders of their garments, and they love The uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats In Synagogues, and greetings in the markets, And to be called of all men Rabbi, Rabbi!

GAMALIEL.

It is that loud and turbulent Galilean, That came here at the Feast of Dedication, And stirred the people up to break the Law!

CHRISTUS.

Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, Ye hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom Of heaven, and neither go ye in yourselves Nor suffer them that are entering to go in!

GAMALIEL.

How eagerly the people throng and listen, As if his ribald words were words of wisdom!

CHRISTUS.

Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, Ye hypocrites! for ye devour the houses Of widows, and for pretence ye make long prayers;Therefore shall ye receive the more damnation.

GAMALIEL.

This brawler is no Jew,--he is a vile Samaritan, and hath an unclean spirit!

CHRISTUS.

Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, Ye hypocrites! ye compass sea and land To make one proselyte, and when he is made Ye make him twofold more the child of hell Than you yourselves are!

GAMALIEL.

O my father's father!

Hillel of blessed memory, hear and judge!

CHRISTUS.

Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, Ye hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint, Of anise, and of cumin, and omit The weightier matters of the law of God, Judgment and faith and mercy; and all these Ye ought to have done, nor leave undone the others!

GAMALIEL.

O Rabban Simeon! how must thy bones Stir in their grave to hear such blasphemies!

CHRISTUS.

Woe unto you, ye Scribes, and Pharisees, Ye hypocrites! for ye make clean and sweet The outside of the cup and of the platter, But they within are full of all excess!

GAMALIEL.

Patience of God! canst thou endure so long?

Or art thou deaf, or gone upon a journey?

CHRISTUS.

Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, Ye hypocrites! for ye are very like To whited sepulchres, which indeed appear Beautiful outwardly, but are within Filled full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness!

GAMALIEL.

Am I awake? Is this Jerusalem?

And are these Jews that throng and stare and listen?

CHRISTUS.

Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, Ye hypocrites! because ye build the tombs Of prophets, and adorn the sepulchres Of righteous men, and say: if we had lived When lived our fathers, we would not have been Partakers with them in the blood of Prophets.

So ye be witnesses unto yourselves, That ye are children of them that killed the Prophets!

Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers.

I send unto you Prophets and Wise Men, And Scribes, and some ye crucify, and some Scourge in your Synagogues, and persecute From city to city; that on you may come The righteous blood that hath been shed on earth, From the blood of righteous Abel to the blood Of Zacharias, son of Barachias, Ye slew between the Temple and the altar!

GAMALIEL.

Oh, had I here my subtle dialectician, My little Saul of Tarsus, the tent-maker, Whose wit is sharper than his needle's point, He would delight to foil this noisy wrangler!

CHRISTUS.

Jerusalem! Jerusalem! O thou That killest the Prophets, and that stonest them Which are sent unto thee, how often would IHave gathered together thy children, as a hen Gathereth her chickens underneath her wing, And ye would not! Behold, your house is left Unto you desolate!

THE PEOPLE.

This is a Prophet!

This is the Christ that was to come!

GAMALIEL.

Ye fools!

Think ye, shall Christ come out of Galilee?

III

LORD, IS IT I?

CHRISTUS.

One of you shall betray me.

THE DISCIPLES.

Is it I?

Lord, is it I?

CHRISTUS.

One of the Twelve it is That dippeth with me in this dish his hand;He shall betray me.Lo, the Son of Man Goeth indeed as it is written of Him;But woe shall be unto that man by whom He is betrayed! Good were it for that man If he had ne'er been born!

JUDAS ISCARIOT.

Lord, is it I?

CHRISTUS.

Ay, thou hast said.And that thou doest, do quickly.

JUDAS ISCARIOT, going out.

Ah, woe is me!

CHRISTUS.

All ye shall be offended Because of me this night; for it is written:

Awake, O sword, against my shepherd! Smite The shepherd, saith the Lord of hosts, and scattered Shall be the sheep!--But after I am risen I go before you into Galilee.

PETER.

O Master! though all men shall be offended Because of thee, yet will not I be!

CHRISTUS.

Simon, Behold how Satan hath desired to have you, That he may sift you as one sifteth wheat!

Whither I go thou canst not follow me--

Not now; but thou shalt follow me hereafter.

PETER.

Wherefore can I not follow thee? I am ready To go with thee to prison and to death.

CHRISTUS.

Verily I say unto thee, this night, Ere the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice!

PETER.

Though I should die, yet will I not deny thee.

CHRISTUS.

When first I sent you forth without a purse, Or scrip, or shoes, did ye lack anything?

THE DISCIPLES.

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