Chapter 8

Esther had been brought up on that ancient adage. Whatever injury another person does to you, simple justice recommended that you repay it in kind. But the Carpenter was saying that we must have done with that eye-for-an-eye justice, in the interest of mercy and peace. Henceforth—if you would possess the blessed life—you must do unto others what you would like to have them do unto you…The blessed life sounded very attractive. Esther was sensing an intimation of its richness. She sighed, shut her eyes, and involuntarily shook her head; for she had an eye-for-an-eye vow to keep.

The Carpenter had ended his speaking now and to the obvious surprise of the multitude he sat down on the grassy knoll, apparently very weary. The crowd shifted its posture a little, straightened its spine, re-crossed its cramped legs, but remained seated. Loosed from her deep reverie, Esther turned inquiring eyes toward Hannah, who drew a long breath and shook her head mystifiedly.

‘Esther,’ she whispered, ‘there never was anyone like him—never—never before—in this world!’

‘There’s something very queer about all this,’ agreed Esther.

Hannah leaned closer and was about to speak again when a stir and a murmur in the densely packed crowd fronting the knoll brought them to attention.

Two little children, a boy of six and a girl of four, had run up the slope and seated themselves on either side of the fatigued Carpenter. Perhaps he had beckoned to them. But no—for now their mothers were hurrying forward to bring them back. The Carpenter was shaking his head, apparently insisting that they let the children remain with him. Now—more little children broke loose from their parents and were clambering up the bank. They huddled closely about him. More and more children joined the party. They sat, blinking and squinting against the sun, seemingly intent upon what he was saying to them, in a low tone inaudible to the multitude.

From throughout the great assembly, scores of children, tugged by some irresistible invitation, were rushing forward, stumbling heedlessly over grown-up legs. One thin-faced little fellow was limping painfully up the slope, leaning his frail body against a crutch. The Carpenter, still speaking, had motioned to the children to open a path for the lame boy, and they edged over to give him room.

Now a spontaneous ‘Oh!’ went up from the people close enough to see clearly what was happening. Without pausing in his gentle speech, the Carpenter had reached out his hand for the crutch. The boy had hesitated before giving it up, but now he stood on both feet, erect and confident. He took a few experimental steps. Now, apparently overcome by the amazing thing that had happened to him, he knelt down, pressed his face hard against the Carpenter’s knee—and cried. And so did everybody else.

Raising his voice to embrace the multitude, the Carpenter spoke.

‘These children come to me because, in their innocence, they are of the Father’s Kingdom. And if you, too, would be of this Kingdom, you must enter it with the heart of a child.’

He then spoke a final word to the little ones alone and they arose. The boy who had been lame marched down the slope with shining eyes. Intent upon his reunion with his parents, who had pressed forward to meet him, the crowd was not immediately aware of the Carpenter’s retreat down the further side of the knoll. The people remained seated, thinking that after he had rested—for he seemed quite spent with weariness—he might return and speak again. But it soon became evident that the day’s events had ended. In groups the multitude began to scramble to their feet. There was almost no conversation as the great crowd broke up and strolled back toward the highway.

Hannah and Esther, hand in hand, too deeply moved for any talk, trudged slowly along with the other awe-stricken people who had had a brief, mystifying glimpse into a Kingdom that was not of this world.

Far in advance of them, striding along alone, with slumped shoulders and bent head, was Simon. The women’s eyes met diffidently. Nothing was said for a long moment. Then Hannah murmured, ‘Now we know what ails him. It’s this Jesus.’

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