C. P. Gasquoine - "The Story of the Cambrian"

George Adolphus Storey - "The Theory and Practice of Perspective"

Henry Beam Piper - "Ministry of Disturbance"

A. F. Pollard - "Henry VIII."

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Coming of the King

B >> Bernie Babcock >> The Coming of the King






[1] Festival branches carried at the annual Feast of Ingathering.




CHAPTER XIV

WITH WHAT EYES

Without the walls of Jerusalem, the hills and vales were dotted with
booths of green. Inside the gates the city seemed to have burst into
springtime bloom, and the populace looked like a walking garden, for
every Jew carried an armful of green boughs, and in his hand a sprig of
willow to be placed on the great altar. Many pious ones had witnessed
the early morning service when a priest, entering from the water gate,
brought a gold pitcher full of water from the Pool of Siloam. At the
sacred altar it was mixed with wine and through silver basins and pipes
sent on its way to Chedron while a thousand trumpets proclaimed the
ceremony. But it was at night the great crowds thronged the Temple at
the most festive of all Jewish holidays for at this time the Great
Lights were lit, the altar piled with leafy offerings brought by
pilgrims from all Palestine, and the thanksgiving music of the priestly
choir made a glorious shout of rejoicing.

Into the Court of the Gentiles the crowds passed, and up the marble
steps of the Beautiful Gate with its Parian marble sculptured in gold
and set with jewels. There had been the brightness of flambeau and
lanterns in the outer court, but it was in the Court of Women that the
Great Lights, branching out on high supports, were lighted. Just
beyond this pillared and shining court and approached by fifteen marble
steps, rose the Nicantor Gate with its titanic doors of Corinthian
brass, more costly than fine gold, and towering to such a height that
the moving throng looked like a line of ants creeping between its
burnished pillars.

In the crowd thronging the Court of Women was Zador Ben Amon, and with
him a Temple lawyer, who passed here and there to hear what the
populace might be saying. When the people had turned toward the
Nicantor Gate, just beyond which ten thousand candles illuminated the
willow-decked altar, Zador stopped suddenly and stepped aside saying,
"Let us tarry. I would use my eyes." After pausing a moment Zador
pointed toward the steps and said, "Look, seest thou the woman with a
man on each side of her? She weareth white with a veil. And the one
man is a Rabbi with uncovered head and carrying a staff. The other
weareth a blue turban with fringed sash on the side. See them? Midway
of the third step they stand. Let us move toward them."

Keeping to the outer edge of the animated throng, Zador soon came to a
place from which, by standing on the base of a pillar he could see over
the heads of the people. "Yea," he said to his companion, "it is
Lazarus and his sister as I thought. And at his heels is the other
sister with her man. Now I will get me on the track of my anklet.
Watch thou my standing place while I call a guard." Leaving the Temple
lawyer by the pillar, Zador Ben Amon soon found a guard to whom he
said, "The woman in the white cloak and veil who walketh between the
Rabbi uncovered, and the man in blue head-dress, with a sash, hath in
times past vexed me sore because of a lost anklet which she prayed me
to find for her. Since I have seen her last, good fortune may have
brought her the trinket. This would I know. For her right leg just
above the ankle was it made. Pass thou behind her as she maketh her
way to Nicantor. There are fifteen steps, on one of these shalt thou
overtake her. When thou hast done so, lift thou her skirt and--if she
be offended, swear that thou didst it unwittingly. If she wear not the
anklet, lift thy sword as though thou wouldst open a way for a priest.
If it be there, make haste to tell me and a piece of gold shall be
thine. I will watch thee from the base-stone of the fourth pillar."

So it happened that as the group from Bethany stood for a moment midway
of the marble steps to look forward to the shining altar and backward
at the surging crowd, some one lifted the skirt of Mary. "What meanest
thou," she exclaimed, turning to face a Temple guard. "He hath lifted
my skirt," was her angry explanation as her brother and the Rabbi
turned to the offender.

"Not of purpose did I, but from the press of the crowd," was his answer.

"Nay, with thy hands didst thou do it. I felt the touch of thy
fingers."

Leaving Lazarus and Joel to have words over the matter, the Rabbi moved
quickly a step higher and cast his eyes across the moving throng to the
outskirts where he saw a thick-set man who wore a royal blue cloak and
gold embroidered head-dress, standing above the others, and looking
with fixed and eager eye at the group on the steps. Suddenly he became
nervous, moved his body as if some discomfiture had come upon him and
then turned his head slowly. The next instant he met the eyes of the
Rabbi. As if he had been struck, he moved down from his foot-stone.
"By the strength of my beard!" he exclaimed. "Didst thou see the face
of that Rabbi? Nay? Such eyes he hath as looketh a hole into the
inward parts of a man. Of a certainty will he know me again--and I
him. Come, let us lose ourselves in this vast assemblage and yet go
under the Gate of Nicantor. I would learn if this is the Rabbi who was
with the woman."

For some time Zador Ben Amon and the Temple lawyer moved with the
crowd. Now and then they caught sight of the Bethany party and Zador
made comment. "She walketh by her brother," he first said. Then, "Now
she is with the Rabbi," and again, "Now she is with both of them. Yet
I can not determine what I would from this place. Let us go to the
East Gate that openeth on to the Bethany road. There the way is narrow
and as they turn toward home the Rabbi will walk with the woman, if
this is their choice."

The last stall on the narrow street toward the East Gate was that of a
pottery molder and baker of small ovens. Outside his door, which was
now securely barred, stood several large water-jars and behind them a
low table used for mixing clay. When Zador and his companion reached
this place they stopped and withdrew into the shadows. "The moon is
rising. They will not be long coming," he said. "Whether the Rabbi is
with the brother or the woman, this is the question."

"Thou dost not know him?"

"Nay, nor care I to know a man with eyes like the Great Lights--unless
he is crossing my path with the woman."

"By the hair that lieth upon his shoulders and the staff in his hand he
looketh like the Galilean Rabbi that hath been teaching in the Temple."

"A Galilean Rabbi? When did this Province of diggers in dirt and
gutters of fish send forth Rabbis? Thou makest a jest."

"Nay. If thy eyes were turned more to the study of the Law and less to
thy gold, then wouldst thou know that a Galilean Rabbi hath arisen."

"Now do I know he is a friend of the brother, for the woman is fair and
her ways gentle, nor would she give to a rough and witless Galilean
what she would withhold from me."

"There is a puzzle. The Galilean is not witless, but hath both wit and
wisdom and speaketh with authority. Yet came neither his wisdom nor
authority from the Temple. So did the lawyers and scribes question
among themselves, and we held council. And to me it was given to
speak, calling in question his authority. And I did say, 'By what
authority dost thou speak things? And who gave thee this authority?'
For the moment he did not speak. Then he lifted up two such eyes upon
me as thou sayest look holes into the inward parts. And he did say,
'The baptism of John--whence was it? From Heaven or of men?' Then did
we see of a surety he had entrapped us, for hard by hung the multitude
that hold John the Baptiser,--whose father officiated in the Temple and
who would have succeeded to the priesthood had he not taken to the
wilderness shouting 'Repent, for the Kingdom be at hand!--as a great
and mighty prophet. If we answer him saying, 'The baptism of John is
of man,' then would they murmur and throw stones. If we say, 'The
baptism of John is of God,' then would this man of eyes say, 'Why did
ye not hear him?' and he would claim succession to the Priesthood
through the baptism of John."

"Thy speech doth upset my peace of mind if this is the man and he is
with the woman, for as I live she is curious in her notions and might
be taken with such words. But they will be coming soon. Watch well
and look closely."

"Thy words sound pleasant. But my watch will I keep between the cracks
of the water-jars. Once is enough to feel defeat by the wit of a
Galilean."

As the Temple lawyer spoke, voices were heard not far down the narrow
street. Both men stepped behind the jars. The lawyer sat low. Zador
dropped on his knees keeping his eyes above the edge of the vessel.
Several groups passed, laughing and talking, when the quick eye of the
lawyer caught sight of the friends from Bethany. "It is the Galilean
Rabbi," he whispered to Zador.

"Doth he walk with the woman?"

"Yea, following them all. But they pass. Look you."

Simon the Leper and two other elders walked in front with staffs. Then
Lazarus and Anna carrying between them a branch over which they were
making merry, while Joel and Martha followed close, singing bits of the
thanksgiving choral. Following them and apart, walked the Rabbi and
the woman Zador Ben Amon was waiting to see.

"He walketh with the woman," Zador said to himself. "With what eyes
doth he look upon her?"

"A veil doth hide her face that only the Galilean may look upon it in
the moonlight," the lawyer breathed softly.

"Doth he hold her hand?" and there was suppressed emotion in Zador's
voice.

"Who knoweth?"

"Doth her shoulder touch his as she leaneth close to hear the words he
speaks?"

"Who knoweth?"

"How doth he hold his arm nearest the woman?" and in his anxiety to
see, Zador raised his head above the jar. "His words and touch maketh
her face to shine. Like a sour citron did her countenance glow when I
did try to touch her," he growled.

"Hst! Hst! Hst!"

"Where he walketh, there should Zador Ben Amon walk, whispering over
her smiling face. Yet by all the worms of torment shall not that
Galilean ass take from me the comely one of Bethany!" he muttered.

While the breath of the words yet hung on his lips the Rabbi turned as
if in answer to a call and before Zador could drop behind the jar, a
message had been flashed to him. And the Galilean smiled.

"God of Abraham!" Zador Ben Amon exclaimed when Lazarus and his friends
had passed through the gate. "With what eyes doth he do it? Twice
hath he sent me his mind without words. As I stood by the pillar in
the Temple did he not say to me, keen as the arrow flies, 'Thou art the
man'? Now hath he shot again at me such words as lay hold like hooks
of steel in raw flesh. Thou fool!' he hath said, and in such manner
that now when the breath enter my body, it sayeth 'Thou fool!' and when
it passeth out it sayeth 'Thou fool!' To the fires of Gehenna with
such eyes!"




CHAPTER XV

THE DEATH OF LAZARUS

An illness had fallen on Lazarus. By his bedside sat Mary. The
curtains were drawn, and a lamp burned on a table near by. Bending
over the couch Mary called softly, "Lazarus! Lazarus!" She
straightened up and looked down at the body of her brother with grave
concern. "Three days," she said to herself, "hath his groaning fallen
heavily on my heart. Now doth the silence fall with heavier weight.
Yet doth the skill of the physician avail not." Stepping to the door
she called Martha. "Through the night I have been with him," she said
to her sister as she came in, "and have done as the physician directed.
Yet even before the midnight cock-crowing did he moan until tears wet
my eyes for his much suffering. With bath and soothing words did I
minister to him until the morning cometh, and sleep. But it is not
good sleep."

Hastening to the couch, Martha bent over, calling anxiously, "Lazarus!"
There was no reply. "I like not this sleep. It is too heavy--too
heavy. Rub thou his hands while I summon the physician."

"Aye, but, Martha, three days hath the physician poured potions between
the lips of our brother to no avail. Let us despatch a swift messenger
for him we love, who hath more healing in his voice and touch than have
all the physicians in Jerusalem. Beside the couch of Lazarus hath my
heart cried for Jesus."

"Aye, so doth my heart cry out for Jesus. Yet hath he taken a far
pilgrimage to Peraea. The physicians of Israel were good enough for
our father and mother."

"Even so. Yet rest their bones in the tombs of their fathers! Is this
good enough for our brother Lazarus?"

"Thou dost alarm my heart. With speed will I summon the physician."

"And send thou to me the servant."

Quickly on Martha's departure Eli came into the sick chamber. "With
haste lend thine hand to help awaken thy master Lazarus," Mary said.
"Rub thou his feet diligently while I rub his hands." After a few
moments of effort which brought no response, Mary gave fresh orders.
"He doth not awaken. Take thou the rue and the pennag and make a brew
over the coals. Bring it steaming! Hasten."

"Doth our brother awake?" Martha asked, reentering the room. "Nay? A
messenger is well on his way with a command of haste and the promise of
thrice his fee if the physician is swift."

"Thou art wise. The promise of gold putteth wings on slow heels. But,
Martha, my sister, would that the servant, Eli, had wings and were
flying toward Peraea. Through the night as I did watch beside my
brother, I did think of the many suffering ones the Master hath healed.
And not one of them all did he love as he loveth our brother."

"Aye, he loveth Lazarus. And if death crosses our threshold will it
not be as if death entered his own abode?"

"Lazarus--oh, my brother--wouldst thou lie so silent if the Master
called thy name?" Mary pleaded, bending over the couch. Then to Martha
she said, "The minutes pass like aged oxen turning rocky soil."

"The physician will not be long coming. With haste must I set the
house in order." And Martha hung several garments on hooks in the
wall, smoothed the couch covers, straightened the cups and bowls on the
table, blew out the lamp and pulled back the curtains. Looking out the
window she gave a short cry, exclaiming, "The sky is red--red as if a
great veil had been dipped in blood and hung across the sun. Such a
sight in the morning is an evil sign," and her face showed fear.

"I put not faith in signs," Mary replied.

"Since the beginning hath Israel been warned by signs and dreams," and
Martha shook her head in sadness.

"Signs take neither the living nor bring back the dead. Hand me the
pot of herbs and help me here," and Mary turned to the couch.

"Doth he swallow?" Martha inquired anxiously as she held her brother's
head while Mary tried to administer the dose.

"Nay."

"As well. There is no virtue in it. He hath swallowed a water pot
full already. Evil is about. The sky is red."

While the sisters stood about the bed the physician, garbed in a long
coat of brown and striped turban, hurried in with an air of importance.
He was followed by a servant carrying a bundle of herbs, some green
sprigs and several cruises of oil. "What evil thing hath befallen thy
brother since yesternoon?" he asked, going to the couch.

"A strange sleep hath fallen upon him."

The physician turned back his patient's eyelids and looked carefully.
"Evil spirits are about," he announced. "When the medicine I did leave
yesterday drove from his veins the devils of fire, then did demons of
sleep rush in. So doth he sleep."

"Canst thou awaken him?" Mary asked.

"By my rare skill I can. Pour out thine oil," this to the servant,
"and set forth the herbs. Mix thou a bitter potion and I will
administer a prayer." From a wallet the physician took a small paper
which he rolled into a pill between the palms of his hands. The pill
he dipped in a bowl. "This is to dispel evil spirits," he explained.
"Make fast his head while I push the prayer between his lips."

Mary and Martha raised the shoulders of Lazarus, and the physician
tried to force the pill into his throat.

"Even of his mouth have the evil spirits taken possession," he said,
failing to force open the set teeth of the man. "Bring the oil." Then
followed an elaborate anointing while the physician tried to rub in his
prayers. Meantime several neighbors had entered the room and while
Mary watched eagerly for the awakening of her brother, Martha stepped
to the door to tell in anxious whispers of her brother's serious
condition.

"Evil spirits have taken entire possession," the physician told the
sisters when no sign of life responded to the oil bath. "There be yet
one manner in which evil may be driven from thy brother. Wilt thou
give of thy abundant hair, Mary?"

"Of my hair? Yea, thou shalt have all--even my blood for my brother
Larazus."

"Seat thyself and bid thy servant to give me a plait of thy hair. And
thou, Martha, bring me a knife wholly of iron and have thy man-servant
in readiness with an ax."

Mary sat down on a stool and unbound her hair. In the middle of the
back a plait was made, and this was cut from her head.

"Evil are the spirits that have taken possession of the master of this
abode and fierce must be the contention of the angel of the Lord else
they accomplish their dark desire. Pray thou who standest about this
bed and seest the knife bound in this hair, that the path of evil
spirits be cut off." Taking the iron knife which Martha handed him, he
prayed over it, tied Mary's hair about it, uttered another prayer and
turned toward the servant who had appeared with an ax. "Take thou this
to the valley. Find there a thorn-bush aside from the pathway and
there tie the iron knife by the hair of Mary and repeat the scripture
which is on the scroll I give thee, and as the Lord appeared in a
thorn-bush to Moses, so shall he appear again. And if thine eyes be
holden that thou seest not the flame, yet will it of a surety be there,
this being the sign--the bush be not consumed. Then shalt thou turn
aside as did Moses when the Lord commanded him to take his shoes from
his feet, for so shalt thou be on holy ground. And when thou hast hid
thy face a sufficient time for the angel of the Lord to find thy iron
knife to destroy the evil spirits, then shalt thou turn again to the
bush and cut it down. Go thou, and hasten."

"How long ere thy skill will waken our brother?" Martha asked anxiously.

"Until the angel of the Lord doth overcome the demons of disease."

"Aye," said Mary, "but the time passes and the sleep of our brother
deepens." She bent over the couch and taking the hand of her brother
called softly, "Lazarus! Oh, that the Master was here! One touch of
his hand--one sound of his voice would be enough!"

"Who is this to whom thy sister's heart calleth?" the physician asked
Martha. "Some magician?"

"The Galilean Rabbi--Jesus," she answered.

"Him they call 'Jesus of Nazareth'?"

"Even the same."

"He is an impostor. Away with him! To whom hath it been given save to
a physician to cast out evil spirits with his pills and potions? Thy
sister doth behave foolishly."

While the household was engaged about the bedside a party of mourners,
having been told by the servant of the condition of Lazarus, gathered
about the door seeking information.

"A terrible and deadly evil hath lain hold of the master of the house,
a young man rich and noble," a neighbor said.

"What sayeth the physician?"

"A deep sleep hath fallen upon him from which neither the voices of his
sisters nor the skill of the physician can awaken him."

"Thou sayest he is rich?"

"He hath vineyards and olive orchards."

"His sisters love him much--much will they pay for loud mourning."

"Yea, much they love him. Listen how Mary doth entreat him to answer
her and Martha doth plead with the physician."

"Aye, aye," the mourners answered, nodding, "They will require much
wailing."

At the bedside the sisters hovered, making frequent appeals to the
physician for help. "His hands are getting cold!" Mary suddenly
exclaimed. "And the cold creepeth upon him," and she rubbed his arms.

"He groweth cold?" asked the physician. "Then did not the iron knife
cut off the way of the evil spirits. Hath there been a sign?"

"A red sky," Martha answered, fear showing on her face.

"When?" and there was eager interest in the physician's voice.

"This morning," replied Martha.

"Thou shouldst have told me," he said sternly, "that my oil I might
have saved."

"Now do I send for the Master," Mary announced with decision. Turning
to the door filled with neighbors and mourners she said, "A messenger!
Is there among you one fleet of foot?" A lithe youth pushed his way to
the front. "My blessings on thee, and a purse of gold if thou make thy
tracks like that of a roe before a beast of prey. Fly thou to Peraea.
Take thou the road by the upper ford and follow on past Bethabara. As
thou goest inquire for the Galilean Prophet and when thou hast found
him, this say, 'Him whom thou lovest lies sick unto death!' And when
he shall ask who sent thee, naught say save 'Mary.' Hasten thee! And
God give thy feet wings like the eagle!"

"Thy brother will be dead before thy messenger gets beyond the brow of
Olive," the physician announced.

Throwing herself by the couch Mary cried, "Brother--my brother! Speak
thou to me--just once more speak thou thy sister's name!"

"No more shall his lips be opened till the Judgment Day," the steady
voice of the physician replied.

"Hearest thou not my voice? I am thy sister Mary. God of my fathers!
Dost thou not hear?"

"Closed be his ears until the trumpet of the dead shall sound," was the
comment.

"Thou dost not mean Lazarus sleeps the sleep of the dead?" Martha cried
in pain.

"By evil spirits hath my unfailing skill been set at naught. Thy
brother sleepeth the sleep of death."

"No--no!" sobbed Mary, as the physician turned to collect his oil and
herbs. "Lazarus is not dead!" and throwing her arms around Martha down
whose face tears were streaming, she cried over and over, "He is not
dead--he is not dead!"

While the sisters were giving way to their grief, the mourners filed
into the room. Some had cymbals, some flutes, some pieces of sackcloth
which they put over their heads before turning their faces to the wall.
"Alas the lion--alas the hero--alas for him!" wailed the mourners.
"Woe! Woe! Death hath entered into the place of the living and hath
taken the flower of its strength! Oh, grave! Oh, tomb! Hungry art
thou! Woe! Woe! From the garden of woman's smiles hath he gone to
darkness and the bat. Corruption hath gathered him to its bosom!
Weep! Howl! Never shall he return to the place of the living from the
place of the dead!"

Before the mourners had finished their lamentations, the body of
Lazarus had been wrapped in a sheet and was being hastily borne from
the house. Following the body, with her arms around her sister, Mary
sobbed, "If the Master had only been here, my brother had not died."




CHAPTER XVI

HE CALLETH FOR THEE

Three days after the death of Lazarus, Mary sat alone in his room
beside the empty couch, which was turned upside down, as were the
chairs also. The clothing that hung on the wall was covered with
sackcloth and the tightly drawn window curtains were banded with black.

"Art thou ready to go to the tomb?" Martha asked, coming to the door of
the room. "Soon will the mourners come from Jerusalem and great will
the weeping be at the grave of our brother. Where is thy sackcloth?"

"Neither sackcloth nor ashes have I put on. Only to think, come I to
this silent room."

"Knowest thou not it is yet unclean?"

"Uncleanness cometh not from the passing out of those we love. Only to
keep the Law, observe I the mourning rites. Yet in my quiet do I
think."

"Scarce four days is our brother dead and thou art at thy old habit of
thinking. Wilt thou never learn thinking is not to tax a woman's time?
Wouldst thou take from men their rights?"

"Methinks thinking is proper for whoever hath power to think. Why
shouldst not a woman think if by so doing she can find answer to some
question that doth perplex her heart?"

"Thou dost ever make thy way seem right because of fair speech. But of
thy thinking what cometh? Here hast thou sat thinking by the couch of
him who lieth in the tomb. Hast thou thought anything that is of
service?"

"Whether it is of service I know not. But of my thinking doth it come
to me that it is not wisdom to seal the dead in tombs when the breath
hath scarce left the body. They carried our brother to the garden and
laid him on fresh earth as is done with things unclean. There did they
trim his beard and cut his nails and wrap him. And before the sun went
down he was put in the tomb behind a great stone that scarce a score of
men could roll aside."

"Much thinking and much grieving doth make thee foolish. Know you not
that the Jew wanteth not corruption in the house after the sunset?
Even the air were not enough to hold the evil spirits that would come
of it."

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