Jonah
people.
“Evening comes suddenly in the wilderness. The shadows lengthen, and
night approaches across the desert. The wind of night blows upon the
east, which turns dark and blue with cold. In the west the sun goes
down into the sea; the sky turns yellow, then green, and shines like
a lamp. The stars appear, the dews descend, and the wings of angels
begin to sweep through the skies. It is cold, and the desert is silent,
save for the prayers of the hermits, which rise in a soft sigh from the
earth. As it grows darker the voices of animals begin to mingle with
our psalms, and we hear, far off, the roaring of lions on their way to
drink. Then our fires are lighted, to guide the Hosts of Heaven to our
homes.
“The animals are our friends. The little divinities of the rocks and
streams know and reverence us. They bring us food, and they tell us of
the approach of demons in the form of ostriches and jackals. Against
such beings as these our holiness is sufficient protection while we are
on God’s land.
“Well, that is all, really. It is a simple life, but it has its beauty.
In the quiet of the desert our hearts expand like flowers in warm
weather, and in our minds blossom lovely and tranquil thoughts.”
Moved by a sweet emotion, Judith replied, “How delightful it must be to
live in the desert.”
She continued in a low tone, “When you speak of God, I seem to feel Him
in my heart. It is such a strange feeling, so peaceful and yet a little
painful.”
And she looked at him with surprised and shining eyes.
Suddenly she looked down; the dark lashes rested softly against her
cheeks warm as sunny roses. “I must go home now,” she murmured.
“Good-by.”
She got swiftly to her feet. “I will not look in my mirror any more,”
she said, “if you think it is wrong.”
And she ran away without once looking behind her. When she got home
she hid her mirror in a box of ivory and sandalwood. Then she went to
put her silver dove away also. But all at once, instead of hiding it,
she gave it a kiss on its ruby eyes.
“Little dove,” she said, “tell me what love is.”
Going to her box, she took out her mirror again, and gazed for a long
time, and with a smile, at her own reflection.
Jonah went thoughtfully home. There he found his Uncle David, who
had stopped in for a moment to see if anything was being cooked.
Deborah was filling the lamps for the Sabbath. When she saw Jonah she
straightened her bent back, and remarked anxiously, “Where have you
been all morning?”
“I have been out walking,” replied Jonah evasively. And he sat gloomily
down in a corner of the room, as far as possible from his uncle. Then
all at once he burst out laughing. When his mother asked him what he
was laughing at, he answered,
“I was thinking of a green beetle.”
“You see,” said Uncle David, nodding his head, “he is not all there.”
Deborah arose, and went to fetch more oil for the lamps. As she passed
her son, she touched his forehead with her hand. “What is there so
peculiar about that?” she demanded of her brother. “Or perhaps you have
never seen a green beetle? Well, I have been amused by them myself.”
“Sit still for a little,” she said anxiously to Jonah; “after walking
so much in the sun.”
Uncle David settled himself comfortably in his seat. “To-day,” he said,
“who should I meet but Bildad, the water carrier. He said to me, ‘This
is fine news about your nephew, Jonah. I suppose that we shall hear
from you soon,’ and with that he gave me a look full of meaning.
“I did not reply; naturally, because I had nothing to say. Could I tell
him the truth? We should be the laughing-stock of the entire village.
I simply wrinkled my forehead and looked as grave as possible. At any
rate, my expression struck him as peculiar, because he said as he went
away, ‘Excuse me for intruding in your affairs.’”
“I have been thinking of something,” said Deborah. “It has occurred to
me that if we do not give a feast, people might begin to think that we
wished to give ourselves airs.”
“There you are,” said David; “that is the way I feel about it, word for
word. Speak up, and people believe you. Otherwise what is the good of
all this?”
Jonah stirred uneasily in his corner. “Mother,” he said, “do you really
insist upon giving a feast for me? I think it is foolish. Still, if it
would give you pleasure ... but who would come? The whole village, I
suppose. Would you actually ask the prince, and his niece?”
“What?” cried David; “what? I shall ask him myself, because I am
acquainted with him in a humble way.”
“Well,” said Jonah, hesitating.... “But what would you wear, Mother?”
he asked with sudden anxiety. “These old rags.... And who would pay for
it? No, it is impossible.”
“Do not worry about what I would wear,” returned Deborah sharply. “You
will not be ashamed of me. As for who is to pay for it ... you need not
worry about that, either, because it will not be you, at all events.”
Jonah sat for a long time without speaking. At last he sighed. “Very
well,” he said, “if you like....
“I will stay a few days longer.”
VI
So Jonah did not at once return to the desert. Instead, he said shyly
to his mother the next morning: “My cloak is torn almost in two. Is
there nothing else for me to wear?”
“There is an old coat which belonged to your father,” said Deborah.
“But it is brightly colored, and it is too heavy for this mild weather.”
“It cannot be helped,” replied Jonah; “if people are going to notice
me.”
When it was brought to him, he regarded it with a timid expression.
Nevertheless, he put it on, giving Deborah his old coat to mend.
“You will be overheated,” said Deborah. She added, “Must you go out on
such a hot day? You will come home all wet, like a river.”
“Mother,” said Jonah earnestly, “I am not a child any longer.”
“Was I interfering in your affairs?” cried Deborah. “I simply said it
was such a hot day.”
Clasping her hands anxiously, she asked, “Shall I put some oil upon
your hair before you go out?”
For she thought, “Then his head will be cool, at all events.”
Without waiting for an answer, she ran to get the oil. Then she combed
her son’s beard and poured oil upon his hair. “There,” she said,
stepping back to admire him, “now you look like somebody.”
As Jonah stalked gloomily out of the house, she called after him
tenderly, “Keep out of the sun.”
In the village Jonah met Bildad, the water carrier. Balancing his heavy
gourds upon his shoulder by means of a wooden yoke and some leather
thongs, the old man was going slowly from house to house with his
wares. When he saw Jonah, he stopped and said with surprise,
“I see that you have a new coat.”
“Yes,” said Jonah.
Bildad scratched his head. “I am glad to see that you are doing so well
in your profession,” he said.
And he passed by, carrying his water gourds.
Walking hastily through the village, Jonah climbed the hill toward
Ahab’s house. The moment he entered the garden he saw Judith. She was
seated in the same spot as the day before, and she was twining a wreath
of flowers in her hair.
“What a surprise,” she exclaimed, “to see you again.”
“Yes,” said Jonah. “I was passing by; it occurred to me to stop ...
that is, I thought you might be interested to hear that I am going
back to the desert again.”
Judith’s face remained drowsy and content. “Are you going soon?” she
asked, and held up her wreath to admire it. The wide golden sleeves of
her robe fell back from her round brown arms; and she smiled dreamily
at nothing.
Jonah replied that he had decided to wait a few days in order to
satisfy his mother, who wished to give a feast in his honor. “Just
imagine,” he said, with a laugh. “Nevertheless, her heart is set on it.”
Judith sighed. “I wish I were a man,” she said, “and could go to
feasts.”
Jonah told her that the whole village was to be asked. “Your uncle,
the great prince,” he said, “has also been invited. He might even,” he
added timidly, “bring his family.”
“Oh, how exciting that would be,” she cried.
And they looked at each other with happy smiles.
“Why are you going back to the desert?” she asked at length. “But I
suppose it is necessary for a prophet. Well, I hope you will be a great
man.”
Something suddenly occurred to her, for she added, “My goodness, you
are really a great man already, aren’t you?”
“Oh, no,” he said; “it was nothing; God simply wished to speak to me.”
“You are modest,” said Judith; “that is nice.”
Smiling, she looked at the flowers in her hand. Suddenly she frowned,
and said seriously,
“One finds so few modest people nowadays. All the prophets have so much
to say, but I do not like what they say; they talk about such gloomy
things. Jonah, tell me--what is there to be so sad about in Israel?”
Jonah replied gravely, “We are sad because life is not simple, the way
it used to be. We imitate other nations and so we are not certain about
ourselves any more. We are not even sure of God; we begin to wonder if
He is not a bull, or a dove, and if He is not also the god of Aram and
Babylon. That is why we are unhappy. When the things we believe in are
questioned, it makes us restless and sad. Patriots are the only happy
people, for they believe in themselves; and if other people disagree
with them, they do not forgive them for it.”
Judith gazed at the young prophet with admiration. His black eyes
glowed, his head was lifted, and he continued bitterly:
“However, that is not all, by any means. One expects a certain amount
of ignorance among the poor. But the rich ought to be an example to
the rest of the people. Well, the rich have only one desire, to forget
that they are Jews. With their beards curled like Assyrians, they vex
and oppress the poor, who cry out to the gods of other lands for
deliverance.”
“That is not true,” cried Judith angrily. “And I will not let you speak
of my uncle like that.”
“Your uncle,” stammered Jonah; “yes ... well ....”
He sat staring at the grass, with burning cheeks. Presently Judith
remarked timidly,
“Forgive me.”
“You see,” said Jonah in a low voice, “you do not know what it is to be
poor.”
“I am sorry,” said Judith sweetly. And she added, “What is the good of
talking about it?”
“Do you think that I mind being poor?” cried Jonah. “I do not wish to
be anything else. Since I am poor, I am free, my heart is at peace.
Remember that I live in the desert, where all your uncle’s wealth would
not do him the least good. It is you, not I, for whom you ought to
reserve your sympathy. I do not need anything; I am happy, my heart is
full of beauty, like the wilderness, quiet, fragrant, and bare.”
Judith bowed her head, “My heart is bare, too,” she thought. But
something moved in it, and she sighed.
“No,” she told herself, “my heart is quite bare.”
Jonah continued: “You have never seen the dawn come up across the
desert. The night rolls away into the west like the last clouds of
a storm, dark and terrifying. The east grows brighter and brighter,
shining like a lamp, so clear and quiet; and the sky seems to be full
of angels going out into the world. There is no sound, for the birds do
not sing yet. All is peace, all is holiness and beauty. No, you do not
know anything about such things.”
Judith sat silent, her hands clasped in her lap, her brown eyes cloudy.
At last she murmured sighing,
“I should like to be poor, like you.”
And they sat dreaming, hearing their thoughts knock like echoes on the
walls of their hearts.
At noon Jonah returned home through the field where his brother Aaron
was grazing the village cattle. Bright-colored insects buzzed and
hummed about him as he walked; lazy lizards sunned themselves on
stones; in the noonday heat earth spoke with faint but audible voices.