The Betrayal

The Betrayal. BY SHIRLEY PENROSE JONES. It was evening on the first day of the Feast of the Passover, and Jerusalem was crowded with a motley assembly, from all parts of the known world, to commemorate deliverance from the angel of destruction. Devout Jews from Athens, from Egypt, and from nearly every quarter, mingled with the martial soldiers of Rome. The night promised great beauty.. To the East of Jerusalem the Mount of Olives stood like a sentinel on watch to guard the sacred city. Undefinable sadness was in the air; and over all, phantom mystery hung suspended. In the valley, leading from the city to the foot of the Mount, a small band of men was slowly wending its way. Upon these men sorrow rested, and One in their midst was burdened with great grief and longing. Yet withal the spirit of peace hovered over him, and from his divine features gleamed the hope of ages. Reaching the Mount they paused, and four of their number, including the Man of Sorrows, went forward into the silence of Gethsemane. With weary steps and heavy hearts they moved. "Tarry ye here and watch with me," said he upon whom sorrow was most depicted. And going further among the trees he flung himself face downward in agony of prayer: "0 my father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt." Above, the stars twinkled with that splendid lustre known to eastern lands, in living sympathy to this man of Sorrows. Their shining radiance seemed to reach down and soothe his aching heart. The calm serenity of the night entered into his being, as he arose and returned to the other three. They were sleeping. "Peter, what, could ye not watch with me an hour?" He turned once more to pray. The words of the prophet came to him. "I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scat- tered." Before him appeared, as in vision, a scene enacted two days before, in the palace of Caiaphas, ' chief of the priests. Al- though not present in the flesh, he yet had seen these details. The chief priests, the scribes, and elders assembled, and with them

THE BETRAYAL 159 one whose garments, by their plainness, betokened a different calling. His face pictured covetousness, as his small, shifty eyes turned towards Caiaphas. "What will ye give me, and I deliver him unto you?" Even the worldly Caiaphas recoiled with disgust and contempt from this being who would sell his Master's life for money. Thirty pieces of silver were counted out, and with downcast eyes the traitor shuffled from the palace. As he beheld, sad recollections came to the Man of Sorrows: How, as John said, "he knew all men," and "knew from the beginning who should betray him," but still with helpful love he had held forth the hand of charity to this traitor. How the traitor, not satisfied with this, desired further honors; of the wounded vanity, when humble Galileans were exalted above him, the only Judean among the Master's close followers. Remem- brance of the traitor's failing faith, when the Master refused to claim his kingdom by the force of arms; of the lack of gratitude in the man's little soul, and how day by day he grew more calloused, as his own baseness was measured with the Master's noble char- acter, until, finally, when the little band began to have funds, the traitor, as keeper of the bag, betrayed his trust by pilfering, so that, when enemies were seeking the Master's blood, his greed for gold moved him to this shameful betrayal. The night was fast going, when, after finding them once more asleep, the Man of Sorrows returned a third time to his three followers. Awakening them he said, "Rise, let us be going; behold, he is at hand that doth betray me." A murmuring, barely heard above the whispering trees, was on the breeze. Muffled thunder, the tramp of many feet, had fright- ened peace from the garden. Louder grew the tramping, more destinct the murmuring voices. Here and there, through the trees, could be seen the gleams of moving torches that, borne aloft, searched out the shadows from the dark places. By the light thus given, the dim outlines of many people were discernible beyond the flashing torches. Clearer and more distinct they grew, and nearer they came. The Man of Sorrows advanced, "Whom seek ye?" His voice was barely audible. The oncoming crowd hesitated, expectant. One from them stepped forward and kissing the Master exclaimed, "Hail, Master!"