Behold the Man

  “But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only. Watch therefore, for you do not know what hour your Lord is coming.”20

  Jono considered the teaching of Jesus. In spite of the danger, Jesus had come to Jerusalem. And now he spoke of the End of Days as though it was on the very doorstep.

  “When the Son of Man comes in His glory,” Jesus continued, “and all the holy angels with Him, then He will sit on the throne of His glory. All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate them one from another, as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats. And He will set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on His right hand, ‘Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.’

  “Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’

  “Then He will also say to those on the left hand, ‘Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels: for I was hungry and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink; I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me.’

  “Then they also will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to You?’ Then He will answer them, saying, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.’ And these will go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”21

  He finished his teaching. “As you know, Passover begins in two days. Then the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.”22

  There was an unhappy whispering among the men, but no one dared to argue with Jesus. Surely he did not mean it, they reasoned. Surely Jesus was speaking of other men—rebels who would be captured and executed by the Roman tyrants. But Jesus could not be speaking of himself!

  Judas skulked away from the campfire, then slipped into the night, Jono noticed. By and by the other disciples drifted off to sleep.

  Jono leaned his back against a tree and studied the profile of the master. While his disciples slept, Jesus gazed into the flame as though he could see what trials lay before him.

  On the Temple Mount, in an assembly hall known as the Chamber of Hewn Stone, High Priest Caiaphas convened a secret meeting. He had called an emergency session of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish high council, but several of its members were deliberately not invited.

  High-placed Temple authorities and wealthy Pharisees, normally rivals in religious dealings, were united by what they had recently witnessed when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem. The room buzzed with conversation—some anxious, some angry.

  Caiaphas called the meeting to order with an imperious slap of his hands. “Jerusalem overflows with conspiracy,” he announced. “The governor and Herod are concerned and have asked for our insight. We are fortunate to have an informant . . . a member of the inner circle of the charlatan, Jesus of Nazareth.”

  The noise of a hive of bees erupted again in the chamber.

  At a snap of his fingers, Caiaphas summoned a guard. “Bring him,” he ordered.

  Looking around apprehensively, Judas was brought into the room. When the guard abandoned him in front of the high priest, Judas appeared to search for any friendly face. There was none.

  Caiaphas pinned Judas in place by staring down his daggerlike nose. “Judas Iscariot. How long have you been a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth?”

  “Three years.”

  “Three years among his closest followers . . . friends. You know him very well, yet you are willing to hand your master over to us? Why?”

  Judas stammered. His face was sweaty, and he smelled foul. “This is . . . he is . . . not what I expected.”

  Caiaphas exchanged a pleased look with several of the other officials. “And what did you expect?”

  “He was offered a crown and the swords of loyal men who would die for him. But he hasn’t the courage to face our enemies. He will never fight to liberate Judea from—” Judas stared around as if suddenly fearful of condemning himself by association.

  “From . . . Rome?” Caiaphas offered.

  Judas licked dry lips and nodded. “From tyranny,” he whispered.

  “What, then, is his plan?”

  “He claims . . . that is, he says . . . he is sent by God.”

  “Blasphemy!” Caiaphas spat.

  The accusation, tinged with horror and satisfaction, was repeated all around the room.

  “To establish a heavenly kingdom,” Judas hastily added.

  “Which will eventually overthrow the authority of Rome?” the high priest demanded. “Well?”

  “To rule all peoples and all nations.”

  “Ha!” Caiaphas exulted. “Treason.”

  From being scarcely able to speak earlier, now Judas could not stop prattling. “He proclaims that if the Temple is destroyed . . .”

  The recitation of Jesus’ crimes was interrupted by renewed expressions of outrage.

  Judas continued, “He will raise it up again in three days.”

  “Utterly ridiculous!” a Pharisee shouted.

  “Blasphemy and treason,” another shrilled.

  “Makes himself a god.”

  “Inciter of rebellion!”

  Motioning for quiet, Caiaphas waited for a measure of the noise to subside, then added, “So Jesus declares he will destroy our Temple and rebuild in three days what has taken more than forty years to build?”

  Wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his robe, Judas held out imploring hands. “No, not like that. I don’t . . . I don’t know what he means. But I know this—love your enemies, he says. Pray for those who oppress us, he teaches. He believes God’s love will conquer our enemies. His words pluck swords from the hands of loyal men . . . from the grasp of those of us who would fight to drive Rome from our land. Jesus declares he is the Son of God.”

  At this expression several of the Pharisees tore the lapels of their robes to show their abhorrence.

  “The Son . . . of . . . God?” Caiaphas repeated. “You, a man of his inner circle, you will bear witness to his blasphemy?”

  Judas looked everywhere but at the high priest, but there was no escape—nothing but hard stares. Finally, he nodded.

  Caiaphas strutted around the room, hands clasped behind his back and satisfaction imprinted on his face. “Then we have all the evidence we need.” Turning again toward Judas he inquired, “When? Where?”

  “Soon . . . by night . . . the Garden of Gethsemane.”

  At another snap of Caiaphas’s fingers, a secretary tossed a small bag of coins at Judas’s feet, forcing him to bend over to pick it up. The traitor hesitated, aware of every eye being on him. Finally he snatched it up and tucked it inside his robe.

  When the same guard who had admitted him grabbed Judas’s elbow, he flinched and looked stricken. The sentry merely escorted him out of the chamber and closed the door on him.

  Caiaphas summoned the
captain of the Temple Guard. “Alert Governor Pilate and Tetrarch Herod that we have proof of treason . . . and a plan to arrest the rebel leader.”

  Chapter 42

  After tucking Philo into bed, Claudia heard the murmur of voices. There was a door leading from the private apartments of the palace directly to Pilate’s audience chamber. It was behind this portal that Claudia crept to listen while two members of the Jewish High Council made their report to the governor.

  “It is all arranged,” she overheard one say.

  “There will be no commotion,” the other reassured. “When Jerusalem wakes tomorrow, it will already be done. No opportunity for trouble.”

  Pilate growled, “Tell your master that for his sake there had better not be!”

  What was to be done? Claudia thought Jesus might be in Jerusalem, but it was said he returned every night to stay with friends in Bethany. How could she locate him? Warn him?

  Josephus would know.

  After a quick visit to her bedchamber to don a long cloak, Claudia headed for the palace grounds with her maid. Once outside, she swore her maid to secrecy. Then, disguised head to toe, she summoned two of the Jerusalem Sparrows and set out alone through the night.

  The streets were deserted as the Passover celebration continued. Families gathered in homes; shops were closed and locked. Through shuttered windows Claudia glimpsed pilgrims and residents seated around meals of lamb and unleavened bread. Her heart beat faster as she neared Josephus’s door.

  In Cassius’s quarters in the Antonia, which had previously belonged to Marcus, Cassius shared his news with his former superior. “We’ve already called in troops from as far as Caesarea and Galilee for the holy days. Expecting riots, especially now that Jesus has come.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Nothing ever changes in Jerusalem.”

  “You’ve seen the man . . . heard him. What did you find?”

  Taking a drink of wine from a clay mug, Marcus reported, “He is all you’ve heard . . . and more.”

  Cassius snorted. “Liar? Lunatic? Traitor? Blasphemer? A very busy fellow to manage all that.”

  Setting aside his cup, Marcus stared out the window at the enormous full moon rising over the Mount of Olives. “The truth will be revealed.”

  Laughing again, Cassius retorted, “Truth? No one wants truth. Too dangerous! Those who hold power have too much to lose if Jesus is . . . whatever it is Jews imagine their messiah to be.”

  Watching the moon’s reflection dancing on the surface of the wine in the cup, Marcus corrected, “Not imagination, Cassius. No ordinary man. Not of this world. I’ve seen him. He heals the sick and feeds the hungry from nothing, and . . . he raises the dead. You’ve heard of Lazarus of Bethany, yes? Jesus . . . the perfect general. The perfect king. Everything Rome fears.”

  Incredulous, Cassius asked, “Is that what you’ll tell Pilate? Herod? Caiaphas?”

  “Yes,” Marcus said forcefully. “If they ask me.”

  Putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder, Cassius said quietly, “Then you’ll be crucified alongside your Jewish king.”

  “I tell you, Cassius,” Marcus replied with conviction. “He is a man worth dying for. It may come to that.”

  The sound of booted feet approaching the door was followed by a loud, hammering knock. “We are sent for! That Jesus character is being arrested tonight. Pilate wants us on alert to put down any trouble.”

  Marcus stood.

  “You see?” Cassius also stood and rebuckled his sword belt. “It has come to this.” Even more seriously than before, he advised, “Just follow orders. And if you want to survive the night, stay away from Jesus.”

  Claudia reached Josephus’s house. A hum of conversation came from within. After paying and dismissing the Sparrows, she knocked urgently on the door. The talk was instantly stilled, replaced a moment later by a babble of questions, and then by Josephus calling for calm. He answered the door and drew Claudia inside.

  The small, rather plain dwelling was crowded with friends and relatives sharing the Passover meal together. Josephus did not introduce her but rather took Claudia immediately into his study.

  Explaining why she had come, Claudia waited for the scholar’s response.

  “You’re sure?” he inquired.

  Claudia nodded vigorously. “The threat is now—real and immediate. We must get word to him. Warn him.”

  Stroking his beard, Josephus reviewed what she reported. “So Caiaphas called a council, excluding those of us who support Jesus?”

  “Caiaphas, yes,” she agreed. “A clever and violent man.”

  “And a frightened one,” Josephus added. “And a frightened adder may be even more dangerous. Now, you must get back before you’re missed.”

  Before they reached the street entry, another knock sounded from outside. Josephus and Claudia exchanged startled, apprehensive glances.

  “Were you followed?” Josephus asked.

  Claudia shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  The rapping came again, more demanding this time. Josephus leaned toward the panel and called out, “Who is it?”

  “Centurion Marcus Longinus, Rabbi. Open the door! I bring pressing news.”

  The scholar opened the door.

  Marcus said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the matter—” Then he spotted Claudia behind the scholar’s shoulder.

  While the dinner guests stared wide-eyed at the latest arrival, Claudia and Marcus saw only each other.

  Stepping aside, Josephus opened a lane instantly filled by Claudia and Marcus rushing into an embrace.

  “Claudia?” Marcus said with wonder. “You? Here?”

  “Oh, Marcus,” Claudia sighed. “Tonight, of all nights.” And she laid her head against his chest.

  “How? Why?”

  Recalling her mission, Claudia grasped Marcus’s shoulders. She held him at arm’s length to look into his eyes. “Marcus, they’re going to arrest Jesus.”

  As if both Claudia and Marcus had been rudely awakened from a pleasant dream, the centurion also shook himself and addressed Josephus. “It’s true. I came to ask your advice. I was at the Antonia when the order was given. Armed Herodian soldiers marched out.”

  “Armed?” Josephus repeated. “They’re expecting a fight, then?”

  “And Roman troops to back up Herod’s men,” Marcus confirmed. “If Jesus’ disciples resist, they’ll be slaughtered. If any survive the night, they’ll be crucified by morning.”

  “But the accusations against Jesus are purely religious matters,” Josephus protested.

  “Pilate cannot condemn him unless treason against Rome is proven,” Claudia concurred, seizing on Josephus’s words.

  Marcus disagreed. “They will trump something up . . . or, like the Baptizer, he’ll just die while in their custody. No. If we can warn him, he must leave tonight. I’ll arrange horses. He can get to the seacoast and then sail for Alexandria.”

  It was late, the dead of night after the most memorable Passover seder ever. Jesus brushed the dust from his clothing as he stood. His disciples were asleep. Jono, hand on the hilt of his sword, followed him as he walked. When Jesus came to a solitary place in the garden, he knelt to pray. Jono waited respectfully nearby.

  Moonlight fell on Jesus’ upturned face and revealed such grief that Jono could hardly bear to look upon him. As Jesus prayed, Jono scanned the shadows of the garden for any enemy who might attack.

  After the most recent events, what will tomorrow bring? Jono wondered.

  Chapter 43

  Joach
im, captain of the Temple Guard, advanced at the head of his men along the road that descended into the Kidron Valley from the Temple Mount. The Passover moon stood almost directly overhead, pinning the outlines of gnarled trees onto black pools beneath them. The soldiers all carried blazing torches so that the procession was a giant, flaming serpent that slithered down the slope and up the other side.

  “You men keep back thirty paces,” he directed. “But come running when I call. Malchus.” He addressed the high priest’s servant. “You accompany me and Iscariot.”

  Joachim and Malchus would see that Judas did not escape if he was leading them into a trap . . . or tried to change his mind about betraying Jesus. The entry to the site of the ancient olive-crushing location was just ahead.

  Joachim repeated his instructions.

  Judas, trapped between Joachim and Malchus, moved like a man made of wood. Walking stiffly, he stared straight ahead. The bag of coins tucked in the fold of his robe clinked with each step like a length of chain.

  A figure loomed up from beside the low stone wall that marked the rim of the olive press. It was Jesus of Nazareth.

  Judas stood frozen in place as if the weight of the chain around his heart would not allow one more pace forward.

  Joachim nudged him and growled, “Get on with it.”

  “Who are you seeking?” Jesus asked.

  “Jesus of Nazareth,” Joachim called out. His troops, holding their torches but also clutching swords and clubs, crept nearer.

  “I am he,” Jesus answered.

  The foremost rank of soldiers fell back as if struck. Joachim dropped his sword, then bent to retrieve it.

  Once again Jesus inquired, “Who are you seeking?”

  “Jesus,” Joachim repeated through clenched teeth.

  “I told you, I am he,” Jesus agreed. “Let these others go.”

  In a barely audible voice, Judas greeted Jesus, “Hail, Rabbi,” and leaned in to kiss Jesus on the cheek.