The Nazarene
by Jeannette Cabraal
It was a warm day. In the
sweltering heat of the sun under a spreading tree that lent its shade
sat the Nazarene in a reflective mood.
The stillness of the raw mid-morning was suddenly shattered by
raucous voices. A mob on the rampage ? It broke into his pensive mood
and lifting his head he saw a mob indeed shoving a young woman into his
presence.
A winsome young woman of stature, cascading hair, eyelids lowered in
shame "She was caught in adultery" they screamed incriminatingly,
testingly, wondering what this saintly preacher had to say.
 He spoke not a word but stooping picked a twig and began to scribble
on the sand continuously. One by one the accusers stealthily slipped
away; for there on the sand was the manifestation of their own
wrong-doings.
Lifting his head he saw the young woman alone wretched and bowed in
shame. The gentle voice of the Nazarene queried "Has no one condemned
thee? "No Rabbi!" she murmured. "Neither do I. Go and sin no more". One
quick shameful glance of remorse at the Nazarene and she slipped away as
quickly as her accusers.
It was a late afternoon. A crowd had gathered around the young
Nazarene. A motley crowd of critics, faithful followers, suspicious
individuals, those on the alert to point an accusing finger, looking for
loopholes in his preaching, whereby they could condemn him. Suddenly,
there broke into his presence, the young woman caught in adultery the
other day.
She threw herself at his feet and breaking open a box of alabaster,
with tears of repentance anointed his feet with its perfumed contents,
wiping with her cascading hair. Here was grist to the mill of those who
were looking out to condemn. There was a smirk on their faces, as they
questioned his passivity in permitting such a woman to kiss his feet.
"I came to you, you offered me no water for my feet. But she has
bathed my feet with her tears of repentance and wiped them with her
hair. She has anointed my feet with perfume" - She had symbolically
prepared his body for burial according to Jewish rites. They narrowed
their eyes. They looked at one another nodding meaningfully.
It was late one evening. The atmosphere was sombre. Thunder rumbled
in the distance. Streaks of lightning rent the sky. Silhouetted against
the disturbed sky, in the gathering gloom were three crosses on a hill.
The woman stood at the foot of the central cross together with the
Nazareen's mother and another - Three Marys. He who gave her his
infinite sympathy now needed hers. She gazed at the broken form in
undisguised sympathetic anguish as he gave up his spirit forgiving those
who had wronged him.
It was a glorious morn. The golden rays just lighting up through the
haze. She went with quick steps with unctions for the corpse. She stood
aghast! The stone was rolled away. A white shroud lay within. A white
lily bloomed beside in its purity. A young gardener stood." Do you know
where they have taken the master?" she queried in anguish.
"Mary!" He said.
"Rabbi!" she beamed in happiness
She had found her saviour. Her true repentance had earned for her
this first apparition of the risen Saviour that Easter morn.
Her joy was replete! |
