The Project Gutenberg eBook, An Easter Disciple, by Arthur Benton Sanford

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Title: An Easter Disciple

Author: Arthur Benton Sanford

Release Date: June 21, 2004 [eBook #12671]

Language: English

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EASTER DISCIPLE***

E-text prepared by Al Haines

AN EASTER DISCIPLE

The Chronicle of Quintus, the Roman Knight

By

ARTHUR BENTON SANFORD

1922

IN MEMORY OF ABSENT ONES

WHO HAVE ENTERED INTO LIFE

CONTENTS

An Opening Word

I. A Roman Quest

II. In Solomon's Porch

III. Christ Himself the Witness to Immortality

IV. Cicero or Christ?

V. The Vision of the Risen Christ

VI. Christ's Witnesses at Rome

AN OPENING WORD

Many voices had been speaking of eternal life, before the days of the Son of man. Especially pronounced had been the teachings of the Egyptians that there is another world. In their Acadian hymns the Chaldaeans had dimly foretold a future life. The belief of the Parsees, as expressed in their Zend-Avesta, had included a place of darkness for the evil soul and a reward for the good in the realm of light. The Hindus had declared, in their Rig-Veda, their beautiful conception of the immortality of the soul, and had written of a future "imperishable world, where there is eternal light and glory." The Grecian and Roman mythologies had voiced their hope of blessedness for the shades of the departed. Everywhere serious men had been asking as to the experiences beyond the grave. It was as if the Eastern world had become a vast parliament chamber, wherein the nations were proclaiming their different doctrines as to a future life.

In the midst of these varying and uncertain voices, Christ spoke his authoritative message. There was no wavering in his tone. What the Oriental philosophers were guessing, he revealed; what the Hebrew prophets had foreshadowed in their holy writings, he unfolded in full light. The ancient Vedic hymns, the oracles of Greece, the Egyptian Book of the Dead, anticipating by two thousand years the Hebrew exodus—all these are naught compared with the words of that inspired Teacher who spoke in Palestine.

In addition, Christ was himself the vital evidence of the resurrection which he taught. Against the assaults of doubt his unique teachings are buttressed forevermore by his own return from the land of silence. In a short week after his words to Martha at Bethany he had become, through his own rare experience, the resurrection and the life. Not the dead Buddha, nor the departed Zoroaster, nor the vanished Pythagoras ever came back through the opened door of the sepulcher, wearing the grave clothes of those who sleep. Human fancy had never dreamed of such a rapturous denouement for faiths other than Christianity. The resurrection of the Lord is the crowning narrative with which the Gospels close. It is a risen Christ who repairs the wastage of human decay and death. A voice above all those from Ind or Persia or the Nile speaks henceforth in Judaea and the world concerning immortality. The superlative Easter argument is the risen Christ himself.

I

A ROMAN QUEST

"If one might only have a guide to the truth."—Seneca.

On Scopus, the high mountain north of Jerusalem, the Roman camp was pitched, that last autumn in the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. A few years further on, if the warriors of the Emperor Tiberius could then have foreseen the future, Titus was to quarter his famous legions on that vantage point; and from its elevation he was to hurl himself as a resistless battering ram against the Holy City. But, on this autumn day, when these chronicles begin, no blare of trumpets was summoning the Roman soldiery to arms; only the feet of the camp sentinels, as they walked their appointed rounds, broke the quiet of the sunlit afternoon.

That lithesome, cultivated, serious-minded young knight, Quintus Cornelius Benignus, is standing on the height which overlooks the great metropolis. He is the son of Marcus Cornelius Magnus, that Roman noble who is the intimate associate of the reigning Caesar, and who has been a luxurious resident on the Palatine Hill since his distinguished proconsulship in Africa.

* * * * *

NOTE.—It is not from any time-marked Hebrew roll that this story of Quintus is now taken. He was of Roman blood, and his record is, rather, to be found in the Latin literature of his time. Well it is when some new leaf is discovered among the musty folios, reciting the saintly character and the triumphs of those who lived when Christianity was new. This record shows the worth of consecrated life and service in the days when the luxurious Roman state most needed a Christian citizenship. But the lesson is none the less for these last days, when the hope of the world is in the creed of Quintus.

* * * * *

By the side of Quintus is his fellow soldier Aulus. They had spent their boyhood together among the scenes of Rome; now they are companions still, on this last Roman expedition to the district of Judaea. While the common soldiery are throwing their dice in the camp thoroughfare, these are speaking of more serious things. The picture on which they look from lofty Scopus includes the shining roofs of Jerusalem, the wooded Mount of Olives, and the far landscape to the south and west; its undulations and brilliant colorings no Roman artist might put upon the canvas.

With the autumn haze covering the extended panorama, Quintus says first to his comrade:

"What the fates have in store for me, here in the city of Hierosolyma, I am much wondering. The day before our trireme sailed from Brundisium for Tyrus I made a visit to the augur's tent. His prediction was that my journey hither would be followed by strange consequences. The flight of the birds through the air did not reveal to him just what was to occur; but that something eventful was to take place he was very sure. What is to be my fortune?"

"Your lot it may be," answers Aulus, "to perform some daring deed, here in our Jewish campaign; and on your return to Rome you may receive a great reward from the hand of Tiberius."

"In my mind this has been," replies Quintus; "before I left Rome I had an audience with our divine Caesar, and he was pleased to say that my fidelity here might bring me special recompense. Yet would that be satisfying? I have seen the triumphal processions in the streets of Rome, when heroes have been acclaimed; I have heard our statesmen in the Senate hall, and prize the joys of oratory; I have been served all my days by slaves in my father's palace, and know the sweetness of the Falernian wine in the banquet room. A proconsulate, if I might come to that dignity, would be a high honor to write in my life story. But, my dear Aulus, would there be content in this? My restless soul seems crying out for