One day he was reproached by the little sister of one of his playmates because he would not play weddings or funerals or any of the other usual games of the market-place : “We have piped for you and you have not danced. We have mourned for you and you have not pretended to weep with us.” It was a reproach for which he could find no answer, except : “My games are better.” Presently he was sorry and said to the child : “Come now, Dorcas, at what game do you wish me to play ?”
“Let us play at Noah’s Ark and the dove that flew out in search of land.”
He sat down and made an ark with mud and little pieces of reed, and then animals of mud which went seven by seven, and two by two, into the ark.
Dorcas complained : “No, I did not mean a toy ark : I meant a real ark into which we can step ourselves.”
“Patience, first let me finish my birds and beasts.” His fingers worked quickly and she sat watching until he had done. Then he stood up, bowed to her gravely and said : “The rain is about to fall, Dorcas. Come into the ark with me. I am Noah and you are my wife ; and our sons and their wives are following behind with the animals. Come inside with me.”
She took his hand and they pretended to enter the ark. With her fingers tightly clasped in his, she seemed indeed to be stepping into a real ark with three storeys, like the one mentioned in Genesis, and above the loud noise of rain drumming on the roof she heard the lowing, roaring, braying, screaming, bleating noises of the animals. At last the rain ceased, and she watched the mud-pigeon in Jesus’s other hand put on feathers and preen itself and fly whirring up through the skylight in the roof. She cried out for fear and he released her fingers, so that the illusion was broken. The ark was once more a toy ark made of Nile mud, and the toy pigeon lay broken-winged on the ground.
“Dorcas, Dorcas,” he said, “could you not have waited for the olive leaf ?”
Jesus was also possessed of a natural prophetic insight. When one day an Egyptian boy, playing at “camel broken loose”, came running at Jesus with his shoulder so that both fell together, Jesus picked himself up and said : “Alas, that camel will never finish his course.” This proved true, for the young Egyptian, resuming his play, ran bleating among the picketed market beasts ; they stampeded, and a mule kicked him to death.
On another occasion he was playing “Spies in Jericho” on the roof of his father’s lodging. He and a boy named Zeno were Caleb and his companion hiding in the stalks of flax on the roof of Rahab’s house, and the girl acting as Rahab was about to lower them to the ground by a cord. But Zeno’s foot slipped before he had firm hold of the cord ; he fell sprawling off the roof and struck his head on a mounting-block twenty feet below. The other boys, who were representing the men of Jericho, cried out : “He is dead! He is dead !” and ran away. Jesus remained on the roof with his feet dangling over the edge, lost in thought. The mother and father of the injured boy ran shrieking out from the opposite house, and began mourning him for dead. A crowd of neighbours gathered and the mother pointed upward to Jesus on the roof, crying : “Look, neighbours, look! There sits my son’s murderer, the Carpenter’s son. He pushed my innocent child from the roof. This is his second victim. The first was the Egyptian boy on whom he laid a curse for knocking him down.”
At this Jesus sprang from the roof in indignation and landed feet foremost on a heap of dust. “Woman,” he said, “I did not push down your son, nor did I curse the Egyptian boy !”
He thrust his way through the crowd, stood over his playmate, whose face had gone chalky white, and taking him by the hand, cried : “Zeno, Zeno, answer me, I did not push you, did I ?”
Zeno replied at once : “No, my lord Caleb, it was my foot that slipped. Quick, let us go up to hide in the mountain and after three days we shall return to our lord Joshua !” He leaped up unhurt, the colour flooding back into his cheeks.
About this time Joseph sent Jesus to school at the house of the nearest rabbi, not knowing that he had already learned to read Hebrew and Greek, the two languages of the market-place, at the booth of a professional letter-writer for whom he sometimes ran errands. Jesus was a child prodigy of a sort not rare among Jews : what he had once heard or read, he never forgot.
He arrived early at the school, before the other scholars, and the rabbi patted him on the head and said : “It is written :
I, wisdom, dwell with prudence, and find out knowledge of witty inventions. By me kings reign and princes decree justice. I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall find me.
You have come early indeed.” Then he prayed :
Blessed art thou, God our Lord, King of the World, who hast commanded us to occupy ourselves with the word of the Law.
To which Jesus made the response that Joseph had taught him :
And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us ; and establish thou the work of our hands for us.
Then the rabbi asked : “To what witty inventions, child, do you suppose Solomon to refer ?”
“First, I suppose, to the alphabet.”
The rabbi was delighted. “Let us make haste to begin our studies together. I will teach you all about the alphabet.”
He took a wooden stencil from his alphabet box and stamped a letter on a clay tablet. “This is Aleph, child, the first letter : say Aleph.”
Jesus repeated obediently : “Aleph”.
“Examine the character closely. It is Aleph ; repeat the word.”
Jesus repeated : “Aleph”.
“And once again for good measure.”
“Aleph.”
“Excellent. Now we can proceed to the next letter, which is Beth.”
“But, rabbi,” cried Jesus in disappointment, “you have not yet taught me Aleph. What is the meaning of the character? The letter-writer told me that you would know.”
The schoolmaster was surprised. “Aleph means Aleph, which is to say, an ox.”
“Yes, rabbi. I know that Aleph means an ox, but why is the character shaped as it is shaped? It is like an ox’s head with a yoke on its neck, but why is it tilted at such a strange angle ?”
The rabbi smiled and said : “Patience, my son. First learn to recognize the letters and then, if you will, speculate on their shape. Yet I will tell you this much about Aleph. It is recorded that in the beginning of time there was a quarrel between the letters of the alphabet, each boastfully demanding precedence of the others. They pleaded their causes before the Lord at great length. Only the Aleph said nothing and made no claim. The Lord was pleased with Aleph and promised that he would begin the Ten Commandments with it ; and so he did with ANOKHI ADONAI—‘I am the Lord’. It is a lesson, child, in modesty and silence. Come now, this is the letter Beth. Repeat : Beth.”
“Since you order me to say Beth, I say it : Beth. But already I know the twenty-six letters and can write them out in their proper order both in the old style and the new. Will you not answer my question about Aleph? For surely every character of the alphabet, if it is indeed a witty invention, must represent some truth concerned with that letter? Is the ox tossing his head with impatience? Or has he fallen dead in his tracks ?”
The rabbi sighed and said determinedly : “Return home in peace to your father, little Jesus, before the other scholars arrive, and tell him from me that he must send you to a more learned schoolmaster than myself.”
Jesus went sadly back to Joseph with the message. Joseph asked : “But why in the world has the rabbi sent you back so soon ?”
“Because I asked him why the letter Aleph was shaped as it is shaped, and he did not know.”
Joseph consulted with Mary and decided to send Jesus to another rabbi with a great reputation for learning, who taught at the further end of the town.
Next day Jesus went to the second schoolmaster, to whom, as it happened, the first had meanwhile mentioned his experience with Jesus ; he resolved not to let the boy disturb the routine of the school by asking impertinent questions, as he called them.
“It is as clear as day,”
said the second schoolmaster. “The child was playing a trick on you. That scoundrelly letter-writer must have put him up to it.”
“You may be right, but he seems to be an ingenuous child and I can hardly credit him with such naughtiness.”
When Jesus entered the new class-room and saluted his master reverently and joined in the response to the blessing, and then sat down on the carpet cross-legged with the other boys, he was sharply ordered to stand up.
He stood up.
“You have come to learn from me ?” the master asked.
“Yes, rabbi.”
“I hear from your former teacher, the learned rabbi Hoshea, that you already know your alphabet.”
“It is true, rabbi.”
“A learned child indeed you are! Perhaps you are already an exponent of sacred literature ?”
“By the race of our God I have made a beginning, rabbi.”
“How a beginning ?”
“I have begun with the letter Aleph.”
“Wonderful, wonderful! Doubtless you have found out why the character is shaped as it is ?”
“I pondered on the question all night with prayer, rabbi, and in the morning the answer was given to me.”
“Deign to enlighten us with your marvellous illumination.”
Jesus thoughtfully knitted his brows and then said : “It is this. Aleph is the first of letters, and Aleph is the ox which is the mainstay of man, the first and most honourable of his four-hoofed possessions.”
“Justify that statement. Why is not the ass the most honourable ?”
“The ox is mentioned before the ass in the commandment against the use of the evil eye.”
“Impudence! And why not the sheep? Have you considered the sheep ?”
“I have considered the sheep, though it is not mentioned in the commandment ; and clearly the ox is the more honourable, as is shown in the allegory of Jacob’s two marriages : for first he married Leah, which is to say the cow, and then Rachel, which is to say the ewe.”
The schoolmaster bottled up his growing rage and said : “Proceed, Hiram of Tyre !”
“Aleph, as I understand the character, is an ox lying sacrificed, the yoke still on his neck ; which signifies that the study of literature must begin with sacrifice. We must dedicate to the Lord our first and most precious possession, which is emblemized by the yoked ox, namely, our obedient labour until we drop dead. This was the answer given me.”
“Tell me, have you come to this school as a pupil or as a Doctor of the Law ?” cried the schoolmaster, speaking the slow ironic drawl which his pupils had learned to fear more than his roar of passion.
Jesus replied simply : “I have heard it said : ‘Scatter where you gather, gather where you scatter.’ You asked me why the first letter of the alphabet is shaped as it is shaped, and I gave you the explanation that came in answer to my prayer. This was my scattering. As for my gathering, I should like to know, if you will scatter in return, why the last letter of the alphabet is so shaped ?”
The master grasped his rod of storax-wood and advanced towards Jesus with menacing grunts. He asked, his face pale with anger : “The last letter of the alphabet! Do you mean the letter Tav, Rabbi Jesus ?”
“I am not the rabbi, you are the rabbi ; and it is Tav that I mean.”
“Tav is the last letter, and the reason for its shape is not far to seek. For Tav is shaped like a cross, and the shameful cross is the destined end of shameless scholars who presume to chop logic with their teacher. Jesus son of the Carpenter, beware, for its shadow already falls across your path !”
Jesus faltered : “If I have offended, rabbi, I am truly sorry. I shall ask my father to send me to another school.”
“Not before I have dealt faithfully with you, spawn of folly. For it is written : ‘Folly is found in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.’ With the foolish and presumptuous child I have no patience at all ; and the wise child stands in awe of my rod.”
Boldly Jesus answered : “Rabbi, consider well what you are telling us. Do you not know the judgement of the learned Hillel : ‘A passionate master cannot teach, nor a timid child learn’ ?”
This was more than the master could bear. He brought the rod down with all his might on Jesus’s head, where it flew into pieces.
Jesus did not flinch or defend himself, but stood gazing fixedly at the angry man, who presently returned to his chair and tried to resume his teaching. But suddenly he clutched at his heart and fell forward dead.
So for a while ended the schooling of Jesus, for no other rabbi in Leontopolis would accept him as a pupil. For months afterwards passers-by in the street would point at him, shaking their heads and muttering : “The boy who killed his master by asking shameless questions! Yet they say that the learned man answered him witheringly before he died and prophesied that he would hang on a felon’s cross.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Return from Egypt
ONE of Joseph’s customers, a retired schoolmaster from Alexandria, took a liking to Jesus and volunteered to undertake his education. Simeon was a learned, lonely old scholar who, though no longer capable of managing a class of boys, was ready, he said, to give his undivided attention to one of more than usual promise. He lived a few miles away from Leontopolis at Matarieh, a pleasant village, renowned for its figs.
Joseph was pleased and decided to move his business to Matarieh, where there was a small synagogue ; and hearing that Simeon’s wife had recently died invited him to share their house. So it was arranged. Jesus studied with Simeon every morning from dawn until two hours before midday ; the rest of his day he spent in the workshop with Joseph, except for an hour of leisure in the cool of the evening. From Simeon, Jesus learned in three years as much as few children learn in ten years of ordinary schooling ; for in a large class it always happens that the dull boys delay the intelligent, and that the schoolmaster cannot unbend lest the bad-hearted take advantage of a kindness suitable only for the good-hearted. Moreover, unless he treats every child with equal attention and equal severity, jealous parents will abuse him and charge him with favouritism. But in a class consisting of a single eager pupil, anything is possible.
Simeon’s method was not to say : “Such-and-such is the meaning of this text”, but “This text the Sadducees interpret in such-and-such a sense, whereas the Pharisees of the school of Rabbi Shammai interpret it in this other sense ; and those of Rabbi Hillel’s school, again, in this. The Essenes interpret it in still another sense, as follows….”
Since Joseph was growing feeble and slow, Jesus was obliged gradually to take over a large part of the carpentry business from him, but never worked at his bench except with a chapter of the Scriptures close at hand for memorization or study. His work was sound and graceful, and he left to Joseph’s spokeshave and emery file only the subtler curves of yoke and plough, curves which no craftsman can master until he has spent a dozen years at the bench.
Those were happy years for Mary ; she would have been content to live in their small neat house with Joseph and Jesus and Simeon for the rest of her life, had that been possible. Though she felt troubled at being the cause of Joseph’s sudden departure and continued absence from his elder family and constantly told herself that he must somehow contrive to see them all again before he died, he appeared not to miss them greatly and assured her more than once that these last years of his life had been the sweetest of all. But Jesus : his was an altogether different case. Jesus, she knew, had a royal destiny to fulfil. He was preparing himself for it : one day it must lead him out of Egypt and back to the City which to her was the centre of the world. He had been there only once, as an infant, when she had brought him to the Temple to make the customary thank-offerings for her safe delivery, and had shown him to Anna the daughter of Phanuel.
One afternoon Simcon said to her, out of Jesus’s hearing : “Your son is a good boy, a very good boy. He is modest, pious, courageous, prodigiously industrious and
intelligent ; yet he has one grave fault.”
Mary asked in surprise : “Why, Simeon, what fault can that be ?” In her heart she thought him perfect.
“That his extreme generosity of heart always draws him where his spirit suffers the most hurt.”
“And is that a fault ?”
“Do you know where he goes in the evenings between the end of his work and our supper ?”
“What is he hiding from his mother and father ?” she cried anxiously.
“Every evening he goes out to the Shame of Israel, as it is called, or the Camp of Lost Souls.”
“I cannot believe it !” Mary had heard of this camp, which was a group of filthy hovels on the fringe of the desert, inhabited by the outcasts of the Jewish congregation of Leontopolis and the villages near by. Thieves, beggars, maniacs, worn-out prostitutes, men and women entirely lost to shame, most of them suffering from loathsome diseases, eaters of crows, rats and lizards, people whose very existence offended the soul : for when Jews fall into the mire, they plunge down deeper than members of any other race—I suppose from having been stationed higher at first.
“It is true ; I followed him there last night.”
“Oh, Simeon, tell me, what takes him to that loathsome place ?”
“He goes there to persuade the lost souls that they can still be found by the Lord’s mercy. In one hand he holds a roll of the Scriptures, in the other a baton : he preaches to them from a hummock of sand and they listen, though the Lord alone knows what they hear when they listen. Last night I ventured out there to watch him and hid behind a ruined wall. The ragged and stinking crew squatted around him in a half-circle while he read to them from the Book of Job. This was a Jesus whom I had not hitherto known. For all his generous mind he spoke no soft words of comfort to them but boldly accused them in the words of Elihu the Jebusite of having hard and stubborn hearts, and ordered them to turn again with tears to their Creator before it was too late. They squinted up at him with eyes of rage and fear, snarling threats and blasphemies or irrelevantly whining for alms ; but held there by some power which he possesses, the nature of which I do not altogether understand. As I watched, a madman made a rush at him, but he drove him off with the baton and beat him over the head ; at which the madman brayed horribly and went dancing away. The boy wept, but continued with his preaching. I came quietly away.”