M e s s i a h
by Bill Crumpler
© 2010 Bill Crumpler
Special thanks to my proofreader, Nina Candler.
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Dedicated to the memory of a beautiful, Christian person:
Angie Drake (1950-2009)
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All royalties go to:
Christian Women’s Job Corps
First Baptist Church
PO Box 310
Burnet, TX 78611
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Author’s note: The story you are about to read is by no means “the” way it happened.
It is merely “a” way that it might have happened.
PART 1—THE PREPARATION: THE MINISTRY OF JOHN THE BAPTIST
Chapter 1: The Proclamation
“The voice of one calling in the wilderness”
On a hot spring afternoon in A.D. 27, John the Baptist stood on the bank of the Jordan River and gazed at the desert hills to the west, in the general direction of Jerusalem. Behind him near the shoreline a crowd of about two hundred or so men, women, and children had gathered to hear him speak. He took a small handkerchief from his belt, mopped the sweat from his brow, then lifted a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun, as if the brilliant light were too much for him to bear. His eyes—deep gray, the color of the eternal sea in winter—squinted and strained as they searched the far horizon.
Would today be the day? Would he see his cousin Jesus descend those hills and advance toward him? Would this be the day when his kinsman would step down into the waters of the Jordan River to be baptized? When the time finally came, would he be able to baptize his cousin?
But he saw nothing. Only dust devils swirling down the slopes of the barren hills. John smiled and muttered softly to himself: “Would the Messiah emerge from a brood of dust devils?”
The crowd grew restless. They had come from all over Judea and from the length and breadth of the Jordan valley—farmers, blacksmiths, shopkeepers, tentmakers, owners of vineyards, keepers of sheep, even a few Roman soldiers. Also among them were two Pharisees from Jerusalem. The tall one with a pointed beard whispered to the short one: “What do you think?”
“What is there to think? So far his words have been neither blasphemous nor seditious. I fear the High Priest has sent us on a fool’s errand.”
“Well,” said the tall Pharisee, “the day is still young.”
“And like us, not getting any younger. Just between you and me, I doubt these rumors we’ve heard about this man John the Baptizer. Who would be so foolish as to teach the things he’s accused of teaching? These are modern times—times of peace and prosperity throughout the Roman Empire. This is the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Caesar. Pontius Pilate is Governor of Judea, Herod Antipas is Tetrarch of Galilee, and Caiaphas is High Priest of the Sanhedrin. The world is just as it should be. No one in their right mind—”
“Who said he was in his right mind? Perhaps he’s demon possessed. Perhaps—wait. Look. He speaks.”
The Baptist turned toward the crowd and adjusted his broad, leather belt. A gust of wind ruffled the hairs of his camel-skin shirt. He twined the tip of his beard around his finger, a habit he had picked up from watching his cousin Jesus. A hush of anticipation fell upon the crowd. Then the Baptist drew in a deep breath and said:
“Brothers! Sisters! Repent ... for the Kingdom of Heaven is near. As it is written in the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, ‘I will send a messenger who will prepare the way. He will say “Prepare the way for the Lord.”’ I am that voice. The Kingdom is coming. And when it comes, as the prophet says, ‘The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth. And all mankind will see God’s salvation’!”
The short Pharisee cocked an eyebrow and whispered up to his slender friend: “Nothing wrong with that. We read Isaiah every Sabbath in every synagogue in the land.”
“Be patient. Listen to him. His own words will condemn him.”
“What does God want you to do?” thundered the Baptist. “God wants you to repent of your sins and to be baptized.”
“There!” said the tall Pharisee. “There! You see? Baptized! Why should Jews be baptized? What’s the—”
“Shh, shh!”
“When the King of the Kingdom comes, he will be the Light of the whole world. Hear my words, oh Israel, for I bear witness to that Light. Through him all men will believe and all men will be offered salvation.”
“Do you hear that?” said the tall Pharisee. “Who does this wild man think he is? ‘All men’ will be offered salvation only if they are circumcised, ceremonially washed, and formally inducted into the Jewish religion. And what is this repentance thing? We keep the Law of Moses. What right does—”
The tall Pharisee noticed that his friend’s eyes had grown large. He turned to see John the Baptist standing right beside the two of them. “The Law of Moses,” said John, indirectly to the crowd and directly to the two Pharisees, “is not enough. You must confess your sins and—”
“Sin is the transgression of the law,” shouted the tall Pharisee. “You should be teaching these people to obey the law. Only in that way will they achieve salvation. The God of Israel demands that we—”
“You brood of vipers!” The crowd gasped at John’s boldness. They could see from the tassels and the purple embroidery on the robes of the two men that they were Pharisees and members of the High Council, the Sanhedrin. John’s gray eyes narrowed as he continued: “Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? You must repent and your lives must show the fruits of that repentance.”
“Repent?” said the tall Pharisee. “What for? We have Abraham as our father. What need have we to—”
“Don’t tell me about being Abraham’s children. We’re all Abraham’s children. And if we weren’t, God could raise up stones to be Abraham’s children. Shall the tree of Abraham protect you from the wrath to come? Shall you be saved simply because you were born as a limb on the family tree of Abraham? What are trees to God? The axe is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”
“So what should we do?” called an old man from the crowd.
“I’ll tell you what you should do. If you have two tunics, give one to the man who has none. If you have food, share it with those who have no food.”
“Teacher,” said a man dressed in a rather expensive tunic. “I am a tax collector.” The people standing near him scrutinized the man and whispered indignantly among themselves, for tax collectors were hated because of their dishonesty. “What should we tax collectors do?”
“Be honest. Don’t collect more than you should.”
“What about us?” said a young Roman soldier.
“Don’t extort money from people. Don’t accuse people falsely. Be satisfied with your pay.”
“You should try to live on our pay,” shouted another soldier, and the crowd laughed.
John smiled and shot back: “At least you don’t have to live on locusts and wild honey as I do.”
The crowd laughed again—all but the two Pharisees.
“Teacher,” called someone from far in the back—a woman with a small child in her arms. “Tell us plainly. Are you the Anointed One? The Christ? The Messiah?”
John looked down at the ground and shook his head. Then he raised his hands as if in exasperation and spoke in a loud voice: “No, I’m not. You think that I am a great man because I draw large crowds and expound the Holy Scripture. I tell you, there is another one coming, a man much more powerful than I, a man whose sandals I’m not worthy to unloose. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit. When he comes, you must listen to him, for he is the Messiah, the Christ. He’s what the Greek philosophers called the logos—the Cosmic Reason. And what our prophets called the Word of God, so listen to him. As for me, I’m nobody. Just the voice of one calling in the wilderness.”
Chapter 2: The Baptism
“You are my Son, whom I love and in whom I am delighted”
For six months John continued preaching his message of repentance to the people, telling them about the soon coming Kingdom, and baptizing them wherever there was water. Then one day, very near the same place on the shores of the Jordan River where he had been six months earlier, John looked up and saw Jesus standing on the bank. The Baptist had just baptized an old woman and was still waste deep in water. He carefully handed the woman to her two sons, who had assisted in the ceremony, and took a step toward the shore.
“Wait a minute,” said Jesus. “I’m thirty years old now. The time has come for you to baptize me.” He stepped down into the muddy water and waded out to John. The eyes of the hundred or more onlookers watched the two men.
John stood motionless. A small black twig about the length of a man’s hand drifted by. He scooped it out of the water, examined it for a moment, then tossed it downriver. He squinted at his cousin as the late afternoon sun shined brilliantly over the Galilean’s shoulders. John shook his head and, grinning like schoolboy, said in a low voice: “I can’t baptize you.”
“Sure you can,” said Jesus and smiled back at him as he patted him on the shoulder. “You’re John the Baptist. You can baptize anybody.”
John smiled at his cousin’s humor and said, “But I’m not worthy. You should baptize me.”
“That’s not the way it’s done. The proper thing now is for you to baptize me. Otherwise, all this work you’ve done wouldn’t amount to anything. You’d be nothing more than a voice calling in the wilderness.”
John laughed. His teeth glistened in the sunlight. “Come on, then.” He guided Jesus into deeper water, placed his right hand behind his cousin’s head, and raised his left hand toward heaven. “Father God, by your authority I baptize this man ... this very special man ... who has come seeking to do your will.”
With that, he guided Jesus down into the water until the brown river covered him as if he were a corpse being lowered into a grave. Then the very special man raised himself out of the water. Dripping wet and glistening in the sunshine, the Galilean and the Baptist looked at each other for a moment, then embraced. The crowds watched in solemn silence.
John waded out of the water and began drying himself off with a towel. A cool rush of wind blew upon his face. He looked up at the sky and saw a dark cloud that had drifted between earth and sun. Then he turned around, expecting to see Jesus right behind him. But the Galilean was still standing at the shoreline, one foot in the shallow water and one foot on dry land. He too had noticed the heavy cloud that had boiled and churned and grown so large that it now filled the entire sky. Those ashore watched and waited.
Then a strange thing happened. The cloud seemed to split in two, and a great shaft of sunlight radiated down between the two halves. On this beam of light a swirl of brilliance gathered itself into the form of a dove, which proceeded to descend in silence to the man standing calmly by the river with his eyes looking down. The people there heard a voice from the sky that said: “You are my Son, whom I love and in whom I am delighted.”
Chapter 3: The Temptation
“Get away from me, you liar!”
Forty days later, Jesus of Nazareth lay in the cleft of a sandstone ridge somewhere out in the desert hill country south of Jerusalem. All this time he had fasted—no bread, no water. The morning sunlight filtered through the scrawny limbs of a wild olive tree and woke him. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into those of a lean, lanky she-wolf who had bedded down beside him for the night. The wolf’s eyes had huge black pupils with sickly amber irises. Still reclining, he reached out and playfully mussed the hair on the scruff of her neck.
“Make you a deal,” he said weakly. “I won’t eat you if you won’t eat me.”
The wolf whined like a house cat who wanted her breakfast. Suddenly she perked up. Her ears stiffened, her hackles raised, and she growled a low, guttural growl as she looked down into the wadi. Then she hopped to her feet and bolted off into the desert, leaving Jesus to the mercies of a tall, violet-clad figure making his way up the wadi. The eastern sun behind the man hid his dark-complected face in shadows so that Jesus saw no lips move as the newcomer spoke cheerfully: “Good morning, Jesus of Nazareth. How are you today? Had your breakfast yet?”
Jesus propped himself up onto one elbow. He curled the tip of his beard around his index finger. “Did you bring me something to eat?”
The man laughed. “You’d be surprised what I’ve brought you. You’d be surprised. Mind if I join you?” He sat down on the cloak Jesus had spread out upon the ground to lie on.
“This little cloak,” said Jesus, “is a bit too crowded for the two of us.”
“Surely not too crowded. Look, uh, Jesus, we both know that you can end this fast any time you want to. Why don’t you just take these rocks here”—he picked one up and began tossing it gently into the air and catching it, the way a carefree boy toys with an apple—“and turn them into bagels.”
Jesus smiled. “As it’s written, man does not live by bread alone, but by that which comes from the mouth of God.”
The man in violet pursed his lips and nodded. “I figured you’d say something like that. Come on,” he said as he stood up. “I want to show you something.” He assisted Jesus to his feet and led him down the wadi to where a pair of horses were tied to a bramble bush.
In less than an hour they had ridden through Jerusalem’s Essene Gate on the south side of town, and in a few minutes they were standing on the Pinnacle of the Temple gazing off to the east and south, across the Kidron Valley to the Mount of Olives and beyond.
The dark-complected man leaned against one of the golden spikes that adorned the ramparts. He touched the spike and caressed it with his slender fingers. A quick gust of wind blew a strand of long black hair into his face. He brushed it aside and nonchalantly adjusted his violet cape so that the soft breeze caught the silk folds just right, just enough to provide a touch of spirited dash. He was handsome. Self-confident. A prince.
“So,” said the man in the silk cape, “I understand that you think you’re the Son of God.”
“Is that what you understand?”
The princely man smiled. “You know, if you were the Son of God, you could leap from this pinnacle, fall all the way to the rocks below, and not be hurt. I mean, since you like to quote scriptures, isn’t it written that ‘He will command his angels to protect you’? Isn’t that what the Good Book says?”
Jesus rubbed his eyes: “Yes. But it also says ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ I’m surprised that an ambitious man like you doesn’t have that verse memorized.”
“Must have slipped my mind. Look, do me a favor. See the mountain over there? You’ve been there, right? The Mount of Olives? Over two thousand six hundred feet high. From here you can see for miles in all directions. I want you to close your eyes—would you do that for me?—and imagine a mountain so high that you could see all the kingdoms of the world. I want you to imagine all those kingdoms. All the wealth. All the power. All the glory of the earth. Those kingdoms are mine, you know. God may rule way off up there”—he gestured with a debonair toss of his head—“but I rule down here. That’s why I’m called the Prince of the Power of the Air. The Day Star. The Son of the Dawn. The God of this World.”
“You’re also called the Father of Lies.”
The God of the World laughed aloud. “Right you are. That too. Father of Lies. You know, Jesus of Nazareth, I like you. I really do. You and I would make a great team. If you ....” He leaned closer to Jesus and said in a low, confidential voice: “If you would ... just ... worship me, I would give you all this.” He gestured with both arms spread wide as if to include the entire universe. “It’s mine to give. I can give it to whomever I please. And I want to give it to you. You’re young. You’re talented. You’re—”
“Get away from me, you liar. It’s written: ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve only him.’ That’s what I intend to do. God is God. You’re just a shoddy impostor.”
The Day Star drew back. A frown darkened his face, and a measureless hatred filled his eyes with malice so intense and so vile that even the bravest of men would have trembled with fear. But it lasted only a moment. Back came the pleasant, affable demeanor, and he said, “I knew you’d turn me down. Still, I had to ask. Well, I’ll go now. But ... we’ll meet again, Jesus of Nazareth.” He nodded his head in a gesture of affirmation accompanied by a twisted, serpentine smile. “We’ll meet again.”
The man in violet left, and the angels came and attended to Jesus.
Chapter 4: The Baptist and the Sanhedrin
“Are you Elijah?”
John continued baptizing people. Early one morning as he headed out from Bethany on the Jordan, near the place where he had baptized Jesus, a group of priests and Levites stopped him on the road.
“We’d like a word with you, sir,” said the tall Pharisee whom John recognized from an earlier encounter. The Baptist looked up at the man and was amazed at the ashen whiteness of his face. It was the face of a man too long confined to the musty air of his study, poring over piles of old manuscripts, noting carefully the theological significance of every jot and tittle on every scrap of parchment, the face of a man who rarely sees the sun. How sharply the Pharisee’s pallid skin contrasted John’s skin, bronzed and enriched by the warm sun and the invigorating air of Palestine.
“Sure.” John strolled over to a fig tree, picked a couple of figs and munched on them as the tall Pharisee asked the first question, the one question that gnawed at their hearts:
“Are you the Messiah?”
John smiled patiently and tossed away the stem of a fig. “Am I the Messiah? Am I the Anointed One? Listen to me carefully. You are educated and astute men, important men. The answer is no. N-O. No.” He raised his eyebrows as if to affirm both what he had said and that they had heard what he had said. His gray eyes flashed with the thrill of challenge.
“Then who are you?” asked the short Pharisee. “Are you Elijah?”
John laughed aloud. “Elijah’s been dead for years. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.” A few of the men in the group smiled, but most remained stone faced.
“Are you the Promised Prophet?” asked another man. “The one mentioned in the Second Book of Moses?”
“Aren’t the Promised Prophet and the Messiah one in the same?” retorted John. “Again, the answer is no.”
“Then who are you!” said the tall Pharisee, his white face now reddened with anger.
“You know who I am. I’m John the Baptist.”
“You’re a nonconformist and a radical!” snapped a student of the law, a young man with only a peach-fuzz beard. “You should remove yourself from the Land of Israel!”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said the short Pharisee diplomatically as he stroked his massive midsection. “Sir, I think you know what we mean when we ask the question about who you are. So please, tell us plainly. Who are you? We must have an answer to give to those who have sent us.”
“Those who have sent you? My, my. That sounds rather ominous. All right. Tell those who have sent you this: ‘I am the voice of one calling in the wilderness, “Make straight the way for the Lord.”‘ Tell them that’s what I said. Tell them that’s what the prophet Isaiah said.”
An older Pharisee stepped forward: “But if you are not the Christ, nor Elijah, nor the Promised Prophet, then why do you baptize people?”
“I baptize with water, and you don’t understand it. Well, let me tell you this: There is a man walking among us now whose sandals I’m not worthy to unloose. When he comes forth, he will baptize with spirit. And I’ll bet you won’t understand his baptism either. Now. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have some very important people to meet down at the Jordan. Uneducated dirt farmers mostly. Good day.”
All eyes followed him as he walked away from them down the narrow, winding path toward the Jordan.
Chapter 5: The First of the Twelve
“You will see heaven open”
The next morning John rose early, as his custom was, and headed out from Bethany on the Jordan, down to the river to begin another day of preaching and baptizing. He had been joined during the night by two of his most devout disciples who had journeyed here from their homes up north in Galilee: John the son of Zebedee, and Andrew the son of Jonah.
By late afternoon the three of them had baptized over a hundred people and were nearly exhausted. John sent the crowds home and led his two students up from the riverside and out onto the road toward Jericho that lay about six miles to the west. Near a huge oak tree, the road forked, and the three men turned south off the main road, intending to trek down to the cliffs of Qumran by the Dead Sea. The sun was hot. Hardly a breeze stirred.
Their purpose in going to Qumran was therapeutic—to take a brief holiday, to relax a little from the hectic schedule the Baptist had maintained since his emergence from seclusion in the Judean desert six months earlier. John spotted a lone traveler approaching them from the south on the Qumran Road. He shielded his eyes against sun. He thought he recognized the man. Yes. It was his cousin.
While Jesus was still a good distance away, John stopped, took his two students by the arm, and waited. When Jesus arrived, the Galilean and the Baptist eyed each other for a moment, then embraced—a long, hearty embrace. Andrew Barjonah and John Zebedee looked on in silence. Jesus shook hands with the two men. It was a strange meeting. No one spoke. Then the man from Nazareth continued on his way up the road toward Jericho. He had gone only a few paces when John said softly to his companions: “Gentlemen, behold the Lamb of God.”
The two young men exchanged skeptical glances with each other, looked up the dusty road at Jesus, then turned their eyes back toward the Baptist. He smiled and patted them on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m just Elijah. He’s the Lamb of God.” He gently nudged them toward his kinsman, like a father eagle nudging young eaglets out of the nest and into the air. As the Baptist continued on southward toward Qumran, his two disciples headed the other direction, following Jesus.
They had traveled almost a quarter mile when Jesus suddenly stopped, turned to them, and said, “What are you looking for?”
The young men stood there awkwardly. What were they looking for? They both knew that the answer to that question would take quite a while even to formulate. “Well,” said Andrew with a sheepish grin, “Rabbi, uh ... where are you staying?”
Jesus laughed and embraced both men at once, one arm around each man’s shoulder, “As the rabbis in Jerusalem say, come and see.” It was four o’clock in the afternoon.
Several days later they were up near the Lake of Galilee, close to the fishing village of Capernaum where Andrew and his younger brother Simon made their home. Andrew raced down to the dock where his brother sat, dangling his feet off into the water, mending his fishing nets, and humming an unknown melody. Simon was a short, muscular man with curly red hair and a receding hairline.
“Simon! Simon!” he shouted as he grabbed his brother by the sleeve and struggled to catch his breath.
“Andrew. Where on earth have you been? I thought—”
“Simon, we’ve found the Messiah!”
Simon cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
“The Messiah. He’s here. Jesus. Jesus of Nazareth.” Simon’s face betrayed his skepticism, but Andrew persisted. “Come on. He’s here. Just—there. Look there. There he is.” Andrew pointed to Jesus, sitting cross-legged in the shade of a fig tree just up the hill. Andrew led his brother up to him.
“Teacher,” said Andrew, “this is my brother.” Simon said nothing.
Jesus, still sitting, scrutinized the husky fisherman—the way a general scrutinizes a soldier to see whether or not he’s man enough to charge into the impending battle. “You’re Simon, the son of Jonah.” He stood up and stretched out his hand. “But I’m going to call you Peter. The Rock.”
The newly christened Peter hesitated a moment, then shook the hand—a hearty handshake, the beginning of a hearty friendship.
Early the next morning Jesus found a man by the name of Philip down near the shore. “Follow me,” he said, and Philip followed. Later that day Philip found his friend Nathanael sitting on a bench near the dock. Both men were fishermen from the town of Bethsaida on the north shore of the Lake of Galilee.
“Nathanael, you won’t believe this. We’ve found the one Moses wrote about in the law—the one all the prophets wrote about. The Messiah. He’s Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”
Nathanael had been eating a pomegranate. His fingers were sticky with juice and crimson pulp as he meticulously plucked out the seeds. He spoke to his friend without looking up. “Nazareth?” He cut a small incision into the pomegranate skin with his sailor’s knife. “Come on, Philip. You know the scriptures as well as I do. What good can come from Nazareth? Messiahs are born in Bethlehem—not Nazareth.”
“I know, I know. But ... look, come with me. See for yourself.” He took Nathanael urgently by the arm. Nathanael tossed away the rest of his snack, wiped off his knife before sticking it back into its sheath, and dried his hands on his tunic as he stumbled off under Andrew’s guidance.
Jesus stood by the roadside talking to a group of teenagers as Andrew and Nathanael approached. “Ah,” he called out. “Here’s a true Israelite, a man in whose heart is no deceit.”
Nathanael stared at him for a moment. “How do you know me?”
Jesus smiled. “Before Philip found you just now, I saw you while you were still under the fig tree.”
Nathanael tried to fathom the man’s deep, dark eyes. “But I didn’t do anything there.”
Jesus smiled. “I know.”
“I was just ... thinking.”
“Yes. I know.”
Suddenly it occurred to Nathanael that the dark-eyed stranger knew that he had been thinking and, in fact, knew what he had been thinking.
“Rabbi! You—you’re the Son of God! You’re the King of Israel!” He started to drop to his knees, but Jesus prevented him.
“Nathanael, Nathanael. You believe just because I told you that I saw you under a fig tree? You’ll see greater things than that.” He leaned forward and whispered in his ear so that only he would hear: “You’ll see heaven open and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”
From that moment on, Nathanael was a disciple. And as the ministry of John the Baptist drew to a close, the ministry of Jesus the Messiah—for which John had prepared the world—was ready to begin.
PART 2—THE BEGINNING: CHRIST’S FIRST JUDEAN MINISTRY
Chapter 6: The First Miracle
“Where did this wine come from anyway?”
In the spring of A.D. 28, Mary, the mother of Jesus, and her sons and daughters attended the wedding of one of their cousins in Cana, about ten miles north of Nazareth. Ever since the death of her husband Joseph several years earlier, she had grown to depend heavily upon Jesus, who, as eldest son, had become the “man of the house.”
Jesus’ younger brothers—James, Joses, Juda, and Simon—looked up to him, although they sometimes thought him a bit odd. For example, on the day of the wedding Jesus had brought with him five young men—disciples, he called them—as guests. This was entirely proper, of course, since Mary had been given special responsibilities at the wedding, overseeing food, drink, and the other varied and numerous details of the festivities. It was a rather large wedding—nearly five hundred guests from all over Galilee-—-so five additional people wouldn’t make that much difference. But to the brothers of Jesus, it was the principle of the thing: He should spend more time with his own flesh and blood, and less time with these interlopers, these “disciples.”
This was a fine spring day—sunny and clear with a cool breeze blowing in off the Mediterranean that lay only thirteen miles to the west. A perfect day for a Jewish wedding. But there was a problem. It showed on Mary’s face as she, followed by a half dozen servants, approached her son.
Jesus and the five—Peter, Andrew, John, Philip, and Nathanael—had formed a circle with a dozen or so teenagers and were kicking a ball back and forth among them, the ball being nothing more than a block of chiseled cork with a goat-skin covering.
“What’s wrong, Mother?” said Jesus.
“It’s the wine. We just opened the last cask and it’s gone bad. We’re right in the middle of the festivities, and there’s no more wine.”
He smiled. “Dear lady, what do you want me to do? You know, the time isn’t yet right for me to show myself to the world.”
She smiled at him and he at her, as if the two of them shared a very personal and private secret. She turned to the servants. “Please do whatever he tells you to do.” She touched her son gently on the arm, the way mothers do, turned, and walked away.
Jesus rubbed his nose said to the servants. “Okay. You see those water jars over there?” He pointed to a row of six earthenware containers, each one with a capacity of about twenty-five gallons. These vessels were common in Jewish households and were used to hold water for ceremonial washings. “Each man take a jar and fill it with water—full, right up to the brim. Then report back to me.”
At once five of the servants looked at the chief servant, a slender man with a large nose. He responded with a shrug, as if to say, “Okay, you’re the boss,” and led the others over to the well to start drawing up water. Meanwhile, Jesus and the others continued with their game of kick the ball.
After a few minutes the chief servant returned to Jesus. “The vessels are full, sir.”
“Ah, good. Take a silver chalice from the serving table over there and ladle up a cupful of water into the chalice. Then take the chalice and present it to the master of the banquet.”
The servant looked askance at Jesus and grinned a blushing sort of grin. He glanced over at his fellow servants, who were likewise skeptical.
“What?” said Jesus.
“Sir, you want me to take ... a cup of water ... to ....”
“To the master of the banquet. That man right over there.” Jesus nodded to a gray-haired man in his seventies who was chatting with the bridegroom on the patio on the far side of the courtyard.
“Yes, sir, I know the master of the banquet. But ....”
The dark eyes of Jesus twinkled playfully. “What?”
“Very well, sir.”
As the chief servant left, Jesus winked at John, picked up the ball and drop-kicked it over to one of the teenagers.
Like a child who knew he was about to get into trouble, the slender servant ladled up the water into the chalice as he had been instructed and started the long walk across the courtyard to the master of the banquet. When he arrived, the master noticed him immediately. “Yes?”
“Excuse me, sir. The gentleman over there has bid me that I present you with this wa— ... this, uh, chalice.”
“Ah, is this the new wine?” asked the gray-haired man as he took the cup from the servant.
“Yes, sir. I mean, it is the, uh ....”
The master of the banquet had already taken his first sip. “Say, this is good. Very good, indeed.” He turned to the bridegroom. “You know, most people serve up the best wine first and save the cheap stuff for later, when the guests can’t tell the difference. But this is some of the best wine I’ve ever tasted.” He turned back to the chief servant. “Serve this to the quests at once. Where did this wine come from anyway?”
The chief servant turned and pointed over to where Jesus had been standing, but he was no longer there. He had disappeared into the crowd—mingling, chatting, socializing in a very unmiraculous manner with the other guests, as if he were an ordinary man. As if he were one of them. Which he was.
Chapter 7: The First Cleansing of the Temple
“If you destroy this temple, I will raise it up in three days”
They had camped just outside the village of Emmaus, a small town nestled in the hills about seven miles west of Jerusalem. Jesus had risen earlier than the others and prepared their breakfast of parched wheat cakes and dried figs. Smoke from the campfire swirled lazily upward and mingled with the heavy fog that had settled into the little valley along the creek bed by which they had spent a peaceful April night.
Peter was up—grumpy, as usual. He smoothed back his red hair and tried to be polite as Jesus passed him his tin breakfast tray. John was making himself useful by gathering up their blankets and stowing their gear onto the two pack-donkeys. Andrew, Philip, and Nathanael were down by the creek washing up. A new day was beginning.
An hour later they were tromping eastward on the Jerusalem road. “So. What did you learn from the wedding at Cana?”
Peter answered quickly: “That you have magic powers. Water into wine. No one can do that.”
Jesus nodded a lazy, noncommittal nod. “Andrew. What do you say?”
Andrew’s face pivoted over toward Jesus’ direction then back toward the road ahead. “A wedding. Something about ... marriage.”
A broad smile from Jesus: “Yes. Marriage. There’s much to learn from the concept of marriage. The bride, the bridegroom, the wedding ceremony. What about the wine itself? John, what do you say?”
John’s green eyes turned toward his Teacher and stayed there as he spoke: “Wine is more precious than water.”
“Well said. You fellows learn quickly. Yesterday we drank from a wedding cup in Cana. Today we drink from the Passover cup in Jerusalem. Who knows what cup we’ll drink from tomorrow?”
John stumbled. He turned his eyes back to the road and scratched his head as they continued their journey to Jerusalem.
The Holy City was crowded with throngs of Passover-keepers. They pushed and jostled their way through the Damascus Gate on the city’s northwest wall. The Temple was the most impressive structure in all Palestine. Work had begun forty-six years ago when Herod the Great had issued the decree to build it, and it was still under construction. Humans were dwarfed beneath its towering walls of white marble.
As they proceeded toward the Temple, the five disciples noticed a certain change of mood in their Teacher. His lips uttered no witty comment. His eyes—normally sparkling with the zest and exuberance for life—had narrowed with a strange intent, a dark purpose they had not seen in their brief tenure as his disciples. They exchanged glances with each other in silent concern. And when they entered the outer court of the Temple, their concern turned into outright fear.
“Look at this,” he said through tightly clenched teeth. “Just look at this!” They were passing by several long rows of temporary shops and stables that had been erected, as they had been each year for as long as anyone could remember, for the purpose of meeting the needs of Passover pilgrims. The Holy Season had become thoroughly commercialized. Shopkeepers outnumbered priests.
“Just look at this!” Jesus pushed his headdress down tighter and more securely onto his head. His eyes narrowed and blazed with fury. His pace quickened and his stride lengthened. His disciples had to hurry to stay up with him.
The entire Court of the Gentiles had been converted into a madhouse of commerce. Passover devotees haggled rowdily with vendors as livestock and trinket dealers hawked their wares: oxen, cattle, sheep, doves, little wooden models of the Temple, and all sorts of souvenirs and novelties for sightseers interested in collecting memorabilia of the festival seasonal. But the most important merchandise fell into two categories: animals used for the required Passover sacrifices, and money used for the required Temple tax.
The disciples were shocked when Jesus snatched up some strips of cowhide from a leather-vendor’s table without even as much as an “excuse me.” He quickly tied the strips together into a sort of scourge, like a Roman cat-o’-nine-tails.
“You charlatans!” he cried out to those who stood directly behind a long line of tables that had been placed end to end. The eyes of these particular vendors bulged with horror as they drew back from the wrath of the man who faced them.
These were the money changers. Under the guise of providing a service to the people who came to the Temple to worship, these shrewd entrepreneurs made a handsome profit by exchange coins from all over the Roman Empire for the “shekels of the sanctuary”—the only currency allowed for the paying of the obligatory Temple tax. The silver and copper coins of Rome, Greece, Egypt, Persia, Tyre, Sidon—all were good in Palestine if one were buying an overcoat or a dining table, or if one were paying a debt to a creditor. But if the debt were to God, it had to be paid at the Temple with shekels of the sanctuary.
John whispered to Peter: “What’s he going to do?”
Peter, his mouth agape, shook his head in silence. They watched in horror as Jesus erupted into rage of words and deeds: “Get out of here with this stuff!” His right hand flailed away with the whip—not against the merchants themselves, but against their wares—and his left hand slipped under the front edge of one of the wooden tables and lifted it up and over, spilling everything onto the flagstone floor with a series of reverberating crashes. The vendors scattered like rabbits running for their lives. “How dare you turn my Father’s house into a marketplace!” One by one he overturned each of the tables.
Soon a posse of Temple priests and their servants surrounded him. “You there!” shouted their leader. “Who do you think you are? By whose authority are you doing this?”
“These money-changers cheat the people. I do this by the authority of Justice and by the authority of God.”
“Of God?” Their leader, a man unusually husky for a priest, laughed. “I suppose you can back up your claim with a miracle or something? What wondrous sign can you give us to prove your authority?” The priests and their servants were surprisingly calm—they had dealt with madmen before.
Jesus tossed the leather whip over onto the ruins of one of the tables he had just smashed. Then he said in a composed, level voice, which all could hear, for a nervous calm had descended upon the scene: “If you destroy this temple”—few people noticed the gesture he made, of placing his hand over his heart—“I will raise it up in three days.”
The husky priest placed his hands on his hips and laughed aloud. “Do you know how long it took to build this Temple? Forty-six years. And you’re going to raise it up in three days? Besides, no one’s going to destroy the Jerusalem Temple.” He pointed a beefy finger toward Jesus and said to the servants: “Escort this madman out of here.”
The servants started to advance, but Peter stepped forward, and the other disciples followed suite. For a brief moment the two sides faced each other in a tense standoff, but Jesus quickly defused the situation with a sardonic smile and a flitting motion of his hand.
As they left the Temple, Nathanael said: “Teacher, you certainly made your point back there with those money-changers. That’s a lesson they won’t soon forget.”
“I may have made my point,” said Jesus, “but I doubt that they’ve learned the lesson.”
Chapter 8: Nicodemus
“But how can a man be born when he is old?”
Two days after the incident at the Temple, still during the Passover Festival of A.D. 27, one of the Pharisees came to the inn where Jesus and the disciples were staying. It was late at night, and Jerusalem was asleep. They all sat around a little fireplace in their second-floor room, for it was quite chilly that night.
“My name is Nicodemus,” said the night visitor in a low, cautious voice.
“Ah, Nicodemus,” said Jesus. “I understand that you come from a distinguished Jerusalem family and are a member of the High Council, the Sanhedrin.”
Philip glanced over at Andrew. They had been the ones who had first met Nicodemus downstairs and introduced him to Jesus. No one had mentioned anything about Nicodemus’ family or his being a member of the Sanhedrin.
“That’s right,” Nicodemus said. “Some of us have been discussing ... well, you and your ... phenomenon.”
Jesus smiled. “The Sanhedrin discusses many things, don’t they? Sometimes even important things.”
Nicodemus smiled back. He was clearly a bit uncomfortable. “Yes. Yes, we do discuss many things. We’ve heard much about you. Some of what we’ve heard seems rather fanciful. For example, they say that you changed water into wine at a wedding feast in Cana.”
“Probably just rumors,” said Jesus playfully. “I wouldn’t put too much faith in what people say.”
Nicodemus smiled and toyed with the hem of his coat, not at all sure of how to react. “Yes, of course. But if these things are true, then you could not have done them if God were not with you.”
Jesus leaned forward. “You know, Nicodemus, unless a man is born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God.”
Nicodemus stared at the man. Their faces were only a foot or so apart. He was taken aback by the apparent and rather extreme shift in the topic of conversation. “Born again?”
“Um-hum.” Jesus reclined against the wall and placed his hands behind his head.
“But how can a man be born when he is old?” He laughed nervously. “I mean, he can’t enter into his mother’s womb a second time.”
“No, he can’t. Man can’t be reborn physically, but he can be reborn spiritually. Fleshly life is one thing, spiritual life is quite another. But unless a man is reborn spiritually, he can’t enter into the Kingdom.” Jesus stared at his guest’s perplexed expression and continued:
“You shouldn’t be surprised at this. You’ve read Plato, haven’t you? There’s a physical life, and there’s a spiritual life. Spirit is like the wind. The wind blows, but you don’t see it. You see the leaves moving in the trees as the wind passes by, but you don’t see the wind itself. You hear its sound, but you can’t tell where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with spirit. You must be born of and by the Spirit of God.”
“But ... how can this be?”
Jesus laughed, leaned forward again, and slapped Nicodemus gently on the knee. “You’re one of Israel’s teachers, but you don’t understand these things? Don’t you wonder why your teachers never taught you about the spirit? I’ll tell you why. Those guys—the priests and the Levites and the so-called experts of the law—they are concerned only with physical things—things like the width of the purple embroidery on their robes or the length of the tassels on their prayer shawls, physical things that show how righteous they are. They don’t concern themselves with heavenly things. Oh, they say they do, but they don’t. If the religious establishment focused on heavenly things, you wouldn’t have to come sneaking over here in the dead of night to find out what those heavenly things are, would you? Would you like something to drink? A cup of water? How about a glass of wine? We have plenty.”
Nicodemus laughed and shook his head. His bewilderment was complete, but he no longer seemed to care. “No, thank you, Rabbi. You know, you make it sound so ... simple.”
Jesus then said in a more serious tone: “Yes, it is simple, but it’s also difficult. The Son of Man must be lifted up.”
Nicodemus was startled. He knew the familiar Roman phrase and its dark portent. “Lifted up? You mean like a Roman crucifixion?”
“Yes, I do. But also like the snake that Moses lifted up in the wilderness. Whoever looked upon the snake was healed of whatever harm had been done by any other snake. Yes, the Son of Man must indeed be lifted up.”
The curiosity of Nicodemus now outweighed his timidity: “But you’re not saying that the Son of Man should be ‘lifted up’ upon a cross for execution, are you?”
“Nicodemus, you simply can’t fathom the love of God. Nobody can. God loves the world so much that He would give his only Son to save the world from death. And the Son of God would willingly give up his own life so that all men and women might enter the Kingdom and be given eternal life.” Jesus crossed his legs and continued:
“Although the world is wicked and deserves condemnation, the Son of God comes not to condemn the world, but to save the world. Those who believe the Son will not be condemned, but those who reject the Son are already condemned by their own decision and by their own deeds. These people hate light because they love darkness. Their deeds are dark and so are they. They hate the Light of Truth and Love. They love deceit and they love hatred. Those who love the light and live by the light will have no trouble seeing the Son of God when he appears to them. But those who love the darkness will not see the Son even when he is standing among them. Even when he is driving the money-changers from the Temple.”
Nicodemus stared at Jesus for a long time. “I think I’ll have that drink now.”
Chapter 9: The Baptist and His Disciples
“He must become greater—I must become less”
After the Passover season, Jesus took his disciples into the Judean countryside, where he taught the people and baptized them, the disciples doing the actual baptizing. Meanwhile, John the Baptist continued his work in the Jordan valley near the towns of Aenon and Salim, about midway between the Lake of Galilee and the Dead Sea.
Late one afternoon some of John’s disciples came to him. They rested in a grove of fig trees by the roadside. It was the middle of summer, and the figs were just getting ripe. John noticed the glum expressions of his followers. “What’s on your mind?”
“Oh, nothing,” said one. “We had an argument earlier today with a rabbi from Jerusalem.”
“What did his say?”
“Same old thing: We shouldn’t be baptizing, the focus should be on ceremonial washing only—all the old arguments.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?” John took a long drink of water from his goatskin canteen. He saw them look at each other timorously. “Well?”
“No, sir. What bothers us is that man you baptized the other day. That guy from Nazareth.”
John cocked his head. “Please explain.”
“Well, he’s baptizing more people than we are. Those who once flocked to you are now flocking to him.”
John shook his head and laughed, like a patient father. “Why should that surprise you? Haven’t I told you before? I am not the Christ. He is. This is the way it’s supposed to happen. He’s the Bridegroom. The people who are baptized—they are the bride. The bride goes to the bridegroom. I may be the ‘best man’ at the wedding, but I’m not the bridegroom. Look, you fellows better learn this while there’s still time: He must become greater—I must become less. ‘That guy from Nazareth’ is the Son of God. I’m just a friend of the Son of God.” They nodded, as if they understood. “Come on,” said the Baptist. “It’s getting late. Tomorrow’s a new day.”
The sun was low, and the western sky blazed with color. A beautiful Holy Land sunset. John was right: it was getting late. Soon darkness would be upon the face of the earth.
Chapter 10: The Baptist in Prison
“Go to a good wedding”
The next morning, before breaking camp, John heard the unmistakable rhythmic jingle of the sandal latches of Roman soldiers on the march. He looked up to see a troop of Herod’s palace guards accompanied by a detachment of Roman soldiers. The Roman captain was a rather quiet man, muscular and big-framed, but he had certain gentleness in his voice and manner. “Are you John? The son of Zacharias, the one called the Baptist?”
“You’re mistaken, sir.”
The captain eyed John suspiciously. He was a conscientious and thorough man. When it came to making an arrest, he never made mistakes.
“My father, Zacharias,” continued John, “is not called ‘the Baptist’—I am.”
“That’s what I meant—” Realizing that he had been taken, the captain tilted back his head and laughed out loud. He was surprised at John’s sense of humor and perhaps a little surprised that he was able to enjoy a good laugh. John didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, and the Roman liked that. But he had his orders.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.” He took out a piece of parchment from his tunic. “This is a warrant for your arrest—issued by the Tetrarch Herod Antipas himself. You are to accompany me at once to the fortress of Machaerus in Perea.”
John nodded, as if he were not at all surprised, and said, “Just out of curiosity, what’s the charge? I would guess it would come under the heading of general mandate rather than anything specific.”
“You guess correctly. General mandate.”
“I would also guess that it’s not Herod, but his so-called wife, Herodias, who is behind this. She who is simultaneously the wife of him and his brother Philip. The royal bed covers are rather tangled, aren’t they?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir. I only know my orders. You are to accompany me to Machaerus prison immediately.”
“And what about these men? My followers? Does the warrant cover them too?”
“No, sir. The warrant names only you.”
John raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips as if surprised. “Good. You men get your things together and leave me at once.”
“But, sir,” said one of his disciples, “where shall we go?”
“Remember what I told you yesterday? About the bride and the bridegroom? Go to a good wedding.”
And so they all departed—John’s disciples to the company of the Bridegroom and John to the isolation of prison.
Chapter 11: The Woman at the Well
“One day the Messiah will come and clear up all this confusion”
Jesus soon heard that his cousin John had been put into prison. He had also heard how angry the Pharisees had become when they learned that Jesus was drawing even larger crowds than John and was baptizing more people. So he decided to leave Judea for the time being. He would return to Galilee until the boiling passions in the Holy City could simmer down a bit. So he and his followers—still only five at this point—set out before dawn one morning for Galilee by the most direct route, straight through Samaria.
“What do you think, John?” said Peter. The two men were bringing up the rear, tagging along behind the pack-donkeys, with Jesus and the others up front.
“About what?” answered the son of Zebedee.
“About us taking this route through Samaria.”
“It’s the shortest route.”