The Expected One (43 page)

“If this is the case, perhaps it is not good to marry,” joked a man in the crowd.

Easa did not laugh. The sacrament of marriage and the importance of family life were cornerstones of the Nazarene way. He spoke out against this idea. “Some men are born eunuchs and others have been made eunuchs. For those men alone is marriage unacceptable. Let all men who are able to receive the sacrament of marriage receive it, for it is the will of the Lord our father. And let him cling unto his wife until death do them part.”

Stung, the Pharisee fought back. “And what of you, Nazarene? The law of Moses says that any man who would be an anointed one must marry a virgin, and never a harlot or even a widow.” It was an overt attack on Mary Magdalene, who stood back from the crowd with her children. She had elected to dress plainly to blend into the crowd and was not wearing the red veil of her station. She was glad of it at that moment as she waited for Easa’s reply.

His response was another question to the Pharisee. “Am I a David?”

The man nodded. “That is not in question.”

“And was David a great king and an anointed one of our people?”

The Pharisee replied in the affirmative, aware that he was being led into a trap but unsure how to extricate himself from it.

“Would you not ask that I emulate David if I am to be his heir? Who here would not think it a fine and honorable thing to walk in the steps of David?” Easa’s question rang out through the crowd, who acknowledged with nods and gestures that it would indeed be a fine thing to model oneself after the Great Lion of Judah.

“For that is exactly what I have done. As David wed the widow Abigail, who was a fine and well-bred daughter of Israel, so have I wed a widow with noble blood.”

The Pharisee knew he had been snared by his own trap and sunk back into the crowd. But the men of the Temple power structure were not easily deterred. As questions were fired at Easa, his answers became like sharp, pointed arrows fired back at the Pharisees. Another man, this one dressed openly in priestly garb, came at Easa with open aggression. “I have heard that you and your disciples transgress the tradition of the elders. Why do they not wash their hands when they eat bread?”

The crowd had been stirring during these last exchanges. There was dissent in the air, and Easa knew he would have to take a stand. These men of Jerusalem were not the same as those of Galilee and the outer regions. Here in the city the men required action. They might follow a king who could lead them out of bondage, but he would have to prove his strength and his worthiness first.

Easa’s rich voice rang out, not in defense of the Nazarenes so much as in condemnation of the priests. “Why do you transgress the commandments of God by your tradition, you hypocrites?” The open insult rang off the stone walls of the Temple. “My cousin John called you vipers, and he was right to do so.” The reference to the Baptizer was a canny inclusion to gain the support of the more conservative men in the crowd. “John was known as Isaiah incarnate, and it was Isaiah who said, ‘These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.’ Now I see that you Pharisees make yourselves clean on the outside, but internally you are full of greed and wickedness. Did not the Lord who made what is without also make what is within?”

Easa raised his voice to make a final point. “And this is the difference between my Nazarenes and these priests,” he said. “We care for the cleanliness of our souls, that we may keep God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.”

“This is blasphemy against the Temple!” one man shouted from the crowd. Then a great roar erupted — with some in agreement, others in opposition.

The noise and commotion in the crowd were escalating. Watching from an elevated space above the Temple walls, Mary thought at first that this was solely a reaction to Easa’s bold words. Indeed, much of the consternation among the men of Jerusalem did stem from that. But several of the Nazarene disciples were pushing through the throng to get to Easa, leading a huddled group of men and women who had heard of the miraculous healings. They were a wretched lot, tragedies who were considered less than human in their blindness or their lameness.

The moneylenders and the merchants raised objections as these damaged ones moved through the Temple complex. This was their most profitable week, and this crowd was now encroaching on the business of the Temple. When a blind man fell into a merchant’s table, scattering his wares, tempers flared. The merchant came after the blind man with a stick, shouting insults at the poor wretch and at the Nazarenes. Easa came to the aid of the blind man, setting him on his feet gently and whispering something into his ear. Motioning to his disciples to move the injured masses to the side, Easa turned over the other tables of the cruel merchant who had attacked the blind man. He yelled to be heard over the growing din. “It is written that God’s Temple should be a house of prayer. You have made it a den of thieves.”

Other merchants shouted at Easa in defiance as he moved through the Temple complex. The chaos bordered on rioting until Easa held up his hands and asked his disciples to follow him to the front of the Temple complex. Here, the unfortunates with their infirmities, diseases, and lameness were brought forth. Beginning with the blind man, Easa healed each and every one of them.

The crowds around the Temple grew to great numbers. Despite Easa’s daring words, or perhaps because of them, the men and women of Jerusalem were very interested in this Nazarene, this man who healed in seconds the illnesses of many decades. Mary could no longer see him from her vantage point. Besides, Tamar and John were restless with the energy of small children in an exciting environment. Mary moved away from the spectacle to take the children into the marketplace.

As they walked through the cobbled roads, Mary saw the black robes of two Pharisees ahead of her. She was certain she had overheard Easa’s name on their lips. Pulling her plain veil to cover most of her face, she kept pace with them, pushing the children forward. The men were speaking openly, but they were doing so in Greek — likely because they knew the common people around them would not understand the more worldly language. But Mary, an educated noblewoman, spoke Greek fluently.

She understood completely when one of the men turned to his companion and said, “As long as this Nazarene is alive, we will have no peace. The sooner we are rid of him, the better for us all.”

Mary found Bartolome in the marketplace; he had been sent to purchase provisions for the other disciples. Mary told him to go back to Easa and tell him and the followers that they should not stay with Joseph that night. They would need to get out of Jerusalem for the sake of Easa’s safety. Mary believed that the home she once shared with Lazarus and Martha in Bethany was the best choice. It was a safe distance from Jerusalem, yet it would not take too long to get back into the city — or out of it quickly.

Easa met Mary and the children in Bethany later that evening. Some of the disciples stayed with them at the home of Lazarus, while others went to the neighboring home of Simon, their trusted friend. It had been at Simon’s house that Mary had disobeyed Lazarus and John with such disastrous consequences years ago. The disciples gathered on this night to discuss the events of the day and plan for what awaited them.

Mary was worried. She sensed that the opinion in Jerusalem was split — half in favor of the brilliant Nazarene who was a miracle worker and a defender of the poor, and half opposed to an upstart who would challenge the Temple and their traditions in such an unapologetic way. She repeated the conversation of the priests as she had overheard it in the marketplace. As she spoke, Judas arrived from the home of Jairus with more news.

“She is right. Jerusalem is growing very dangerous for you,” he said to Easa. “Jairus says that Caiaphas and Annas are calling for your execution as a blasphemer.”

Peter was disgusted. “Rubbish,” he spat. “Easa has never spoken a blasphemy and could not if he so desired. They are the blasphemers, those vipers.”

Easa did not look concerned. “It matters not, Peter. The priests have no authority to put a man to death,” he told them, calling on his extensive knowledge of the law. “Only Rome can do that, and the Romans do not recognize the blasphemy laws of the Jews.”

The men talked into the night about the best course of action for the following day. Mary wanted to keep Easa out of Jerusalem for a day to allow some calm to return to the city. But he would not hear of it. Even larger crowds were expected the following day as word spread through Jerusalem of Easa’s bold teachings and extraordinary healings. He would not disappoint those who would travel to Jerusalem to see him. Nor would he bow to the pressure of the priests. Now, more than ever, he needed to be a leader.

The following day, Mary elected to stay in Bethany with the children and Martha. The weight of her pregnancy was taking its toll, and the long walk back to Bethany in such haste had exhausted her. She kept the children busy in the household, all the while trying to keep her own mind off the possible dangers that Easa might face within the city walls.

Mary sat in the front garden, watching Tamar play in the grass, when she saw a woman approaching the house, veiled heavily in black. Her face and hair were covered, and it was impossible to determine if the visitor was known or not. Perhaps it was a friend of Martha’s or a new neighbor that Mary was unaware of?

The woman drew closer and Mary could hear the stifled laugh. “What’s the matter, sister? You don’t recognize me after all this time?”

The veil came down to reveal the woman as Salome, the Herodian princess. Her face had lost the roundness of childhood; she was entering the full bloom of maturity. Mary ran to embrace her, and they held each other for a long moment. Following John’s death it had become too dangerous for Salome to be seen in the company of the Nazarenes. Her presence was dangerous for Easa. If her supporters hoped to win over John’s followers, they could not be seen to be consorting with the woman who was reviled for causing his arrest, if not his death.

The enforced separation had been hard on the two women. Salome was crushed that she would not be allowed to complete her training as a priestess and would be separated from the people she had grown to love more than her own family. For Mary, it was another bitter aftereffect of the unfair judgment that had been made on both of them following John’s execution.

Salome squealed when she saw little Tamar in the grass. “Look at her! She is the double of you!”

Mary nodded, smiling. “On the outside. But inside, she is already developing into the image of her father.” Mary recounted some of the stories of little Tamar and how she had shown herself to be special from the time she began to walk. She had healed a lamb that had fallen into a trench in Magdala with the touch of her infant hand. She was just over three years old now, but her speech was phenomenal — she spoke easily in both Greek and Aramaic.

“She is indeed a fortunate child to have two such parents,” Salome said, her face darkening. “And we need to keep both of those parents safe, which is why I’m here. Mary, I have word from the palace. Easa is in serious danger.”

“Let’s go inside, where we know there are no other ears, and where little ears such as these” — she gestured to Tamar — “can be otherwise occupied.”

Mary leaned over to lift Tamar, but her growing belly made it difficult to bend. Salome held her arms out. “Come to your sister Salome,” she said. Tamar paused, looking up at the unknown woman, then at her mother for reassurance. A perfect little smile spread across Tamar’s face as she jumped into the arms of the Herodian princess.

As they entered the house, Mary signaled for Martha to take Tamar.

Martha took the little girl from Salome. “Come, little princess, we will go find your brother.”

John was out walking the lands with Lazarus. Martha indicated that she would take her niece outside to allow privacy for the conversation between Salome and Mary. When they were out the door, Salome turned and grabbed Mary’s hand.

“Listen to me; this is very urgent. My stepfather was in Jerusalem today at the home of Pontius Pilate, and I with him. He is leaving for Rome to see the emperor in two days’ time and needed a full report from the procurator. I used the excuse of wanting to see Claudia Procula, Pilate’s wife, to obtain his leave to come with him. Claudia is the granddaughter of Caesar Augustus, and I knew my stepfather would not say ‘no’ to that. But of course, that is not why I wanted to come. I knew that you and Easa and the others were here. Where is the Great Mary?”