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Home  »  Complete Poetical Works by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  »  Part I. The Divine Tragedy. The Third Passover. II. Solomon’s Porch

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893.

Christus: A Mystery

Part I. The Divine Tragedy. The Third Passover. II. Solomon’s Porch

GAMALIEL THE SCRIBE.
WHEN Rabban Simeon, upon whom be peace!

Taught in these Schools, he boasted that his pen

Had written no word that he could call his own,

But wholly and always had been consecrated

To the transcribing of the Law and Prophets.

He used to say, and never tired of saying,

The world itself was built upon the Law.

And ancient Hillel said, that whosoever

Gains a good name, gains something for himself,

But he who gains a knowledge of the Law

Gains everlasting life. And they spake truly.

Great is the Written Law; but greater still

The Unwritten, the Traditions of the Elders,

The lovely words of Levites, spoken first

To Moses on the Mount, and handed down

From mouth to mouth, in one unbroken sound

And sequence of divine authority,

The voice of God resounding through the ages.

The Written Law is water; the Unwritten

Is precious wine; the Written Law is salt,

The Unwritten costly spice; the Written Law

Is but the body; the Unwritten, the soul

That quickens it and makes it breathe and live.

I can remember, many years ago,

A little bright-eyed school-boy, a mere stripling,

Son of a Galilean carpenter,

From Nazareth, I think, who came one day

And sat here in the Temple with the Scribes,

Hearing us speak, and asking many questions,

And we were all astonished at his quickness.

And when his mother came, and said: Behold

Thy father and I have sought thee, sorrowing;

He looked as one astonished, and made answer,

How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not

That I must be about my Father’s business?

Often since then I see him here among us,

Or dream I see him, with his upraised face

Intent and eager, and I often wonder

Unto what manner of manhood he hath grown!

Perhaps a poor mechanic, like his father,

Lost in his little Galilean village

And toiling at his craft, to die unknown

And be no more remembered among men.

CHRISTUS in the outer court.
The Scribes and Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat;

All, therefore, whatsoever they command you,

Observe and do; but follow not their works;

They say and do not. They bind heavy burdens

And very grievous to be borne, and lay them

Upon men’s shoulders, but they move them not

With so much as a finger!

GAMALIEL, looking forth.
Who is this

Exhorting in the outer courts so loudly?

CHRISTUS.
Their works they do for to be seen of men.

They make broad their phylacteries, and enlarge

The borders of their garments, and they love

The uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats

In Synagogues, and greetings in the markets,

And to be called of all men Rabbi, Rabbi!

GAMALIEL.
It is that loud and turbulent Galilean,

That came here at the Feast of Dedication,

And stirred the people up to break the Law!

CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,

Ye hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom

Of heaven, and neither go ye in yourselves

Nor suffer them that are entering to go in!

GAMALIEL.
How eagerly the people throng and listen,

As if his ribald words were words of wisdom!

CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,

Ye hypocrites! for ye devour the houses

Of widows, and for pretence ye make long prayers;

Therefore shall ye receive the more damnation.

GAMALIEL.
This brawler is no Jew,—he is a vile

Samaritan, and hath an unclean spirit!

CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,

Ye hypocrites! ye compass sea and land

To make one proselyte, and when he is made

Ye make him twofold more the child of hell

Than you yourselves are!

GAMALIEL.
O my father’s father!

Hillel of blessed memory, hear and judge!

CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,

Ye hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint,

Of anise, and of cumin, and omit

The weightier matters of the law of God,

Judgment and faith and mercy; and all these

Ye ought to have done, nor leave undone the others!

GAMALIEL.
O Rabban Simeon! how must thy bones

Stir in their grave to hear such blasphemies!

CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,

Ye hypocrites! for ye make clean and sweet

The outside of the cup and of the platter,

But they within are full of all excess!

GAMALIEL.
Patience of God! canst thou endure so long?

Or art thou deaf, or gone upon a journey?

CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,

Ye hypocrites! for ye are very like

To whited sepulchres, which indeed appear

Beautiful outwardly, but are within

Filled full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness!

GAMALIEL.
Am I awake? Is this Jerusalem?

And are these Jews that throng and stare and listen?

CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,

Ye hypocrites! because ye build the tombs

Of prophets, and adorn the sepulchres

Of righteous men, and say: If we had lived

When lived our fathers, we would not have been

Partakers with them in the blood of Prophets.

So ye be witnesses unto yourselves,

That ye are children of them that killed the Prophets!

Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers.

I send unto you Prophets and Wise Men,

And Scribes, and some ye crucify, and some

Scourge in your Synagogues, and persecute

From city to city; that on you may come

The righteous blood that hath been shed on earth,

From the blood of righteous Abel to the blood

Of Zacharias, son of Barachias,

Ye slew between the Temple and the altar!

GAMALIEL.
Oh, had I here my subtle dialectician,

My little Saul of Tarsus, the tent-maker,

Whose wit is sharper than his needle’s point,

He would delight to foil this noisy wrangler!

CHRISTUS.
Jerusalem! Jerusalem! O thou

That killest the Prophets, and that stonest them

Which are sent unto thee, how often would I

Have gathered together thy children, as a hen

Gathereth her chickens underneath her wing,

And ye would not! Behold, your house is left

Unto you desolate!

THE PEOPLE.
This is a Prophet!

This is the Christ that was to come!

GAMALIEL.
Ye fools!

Think ye, shall Christ come out of Galilee?