The Redeemer (20 page)
“Has Jesus ever claimed to be God’s Son in front of Judas?”
“Uh, well, in a manner of speaking, but He told him not to tell anyone.”
“If Caiaphas has evidence and a witness to blasphemy, he will have Jesus stoned.”
“No, he won’t,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I knew never to correct Satan, especially in front of another demon.
Mouth, stay closed.
But it didn’t.
“What I mean to say, all-knowing one, is that Caiaphas
can’t
have Jesus killed by stoning or any other method.”
“Ridiculous. The Jews have been stoning each other for blasphemy for centuries.”
“Technically, you are right, mighty one, but part of the arrangement Caiaphas made with Rome is no one is allowed to be sentenced to death except by a Roman court.”
“Then Rome will have to order him stoned.”
“They won’t do it, sir. They refuse to get involved in religious squabbles. Besides, stoning, per se, is not in their repertoire of execution methods. They won’t hear a case based on religion. He would have to break the civil law or become a threat to Rome, which, if I may say so, is highly unlikely.”
Satan paced back and forth and snorted his discontent as Reywal and I waited. Then Satan stopped right in front of me and growled.
“How can Rome kill Him?”
“But, sir, they won’t. He has to be found guilty—”
“Answer the question.”
“Well, uh, depending on the crime, they could flog Him or crucify Him. Since He’s a Jew, they might ask Caiaphas to choose the method.”
Satan pushed me aside and got nose to nose with Reywal.
“Listen to me carefully. Spin your web of religious legalism. Judas has to betray Jesus, and Caiaphas has to find a way to make it an issue for Rome. Caiaphas must demand He be flogged to death. But,” he paused and leaned closer to the trembling demon, “under no circumstances is Caiaphas to ask for crucifixion. Am I clear?”
“As glass, sir.”
W
HAT DO YOU
expect me to do?” Herod was never comfortable when the high priest demanded an audience. Reywal and I sat quietly on the sofa watching Caiaphas manipulate the king of Israel. “He’s breaking the law,” Caiaphas said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What law?”
“He doesn’t respect our Sabbath. He pretends to heal people, including cripples and blind people, all on the Sabbath, which I shouldn’t have to tell you is forbidden.”
“
Pretends
to heal? Tell me, does anyone pretend to
be
healed?”
“Some are deluded by His sleight of hand. The sick are so desperate they don’t realize they’re still sick. It’s a mirage, an overactive imagination, that’s all.”
“How does a cripple imagine he can walk or a blind man imagine he can see? It sounds like a miracle worker has come to town, and you’re jealous. Who have you healed lately?”
The high priest’s face betrayed no emotion.
“I can see you don’t share our concerns,” he said as he smoothed out the long tassels on his robe. “What if I told you there are other reports you’d care a great deal about?”
“Like what?” Herod was losing patience.
“That He can raise people from the dead.”
“Why would I care about that?” Herod’s jaw flinched as his stomach turned over. “It’s not true, right? You said He’s a fraud.”
“I said He pretends to heal. Raising someone from the dead is another issue altogether.” Caiaphas smelled Herod’s fear. “Particularly if it should be someone who wasn’t supposed to die.”
“You mean like an accident victim.”
“Or someone who had been murdered unjustly. Rumor has it He can raise people no matter how long they’ve been dead.”
“I see,” Herod walked over to his window and looked out toward the empty jail in the courtyard below. “I was not aware.”
Caiaphas joined him at the window and looked out.
“Is that where John the Baptist was imprisoned?”
“What of it?” Herod said as he brushed past Caiaphas and took cover behind his desk.
“So now,” Caiaphas asked mockingly, “what shall we do about Jesus, O king?”
Herod fussed with the parchments on his desk, turning an inkwell over when he slammed his fist down in frustration.
“Tell Him to stop it. I forbid Him to raise the dead.”
I saw Reywal’s quizzical look and explained it to him.
“Here’s what happened: Herod had an innocent man beheaded. He hasn’t slept since, and Caiaphas knows it. The executed man was John the Baptist—Jesus’ cousin and popular with the people. If Jesus can raise the dead, Herod is afraid He will raise John. When Herod first heard about Jesus, he had nightmares that Jesus
was
John come back to life.”
Caiaphas took a cloth from Herod’s cabinet and dropped it on the ink spill.
“Your paranoia is well known, Herod, but trust me, the ghost of John the Baptist should be the least of your worries. There are rumors Jesus intends to become king.”
“How can He do that? I’m the king.”
“Now who feels threatened? By the way, how
is
your wife?”
Herod’s face flushed to a bright crimson.
“Jesus has to be stopped.” Herod grabbed the ink-covered cloth and tossed it on the floor. “Rome won’t tolerate a political coup.”
Caiaphas gave a perfunctory bow and straightened his prayer shawl.
“I knew we could count on your cooperation. It’s for the good of Israel, you know.”
When Caiaphas left, so did we. I was anxious to find Judas so I could point him out to Reywal; then maybe he would stop following me. When we found our man, he was with the rest of the disciples and a few thousand other people seated on a sloping hill in front of a lake. Jesus stood at the bottom of the slope exhorting the crowd.
“The teachers of the Law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’s seat, so you must be careful to do everything they tell you, but do not do what they do, for they don’t practice what they preach. They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on your shoulders, but they themselves aren’t willing to lift a finger to help you.
“Everything they do is to impress people with how holy they are. They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long, and they love the place of honor at banquets and take the most important seats in the synagogues. They love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and to have people call them rabbi.”
Reywal and I made our way forward and took a seat on the first row. I was just about to point out who was who among the disciples when I detected a murmuring spreading through the crowd. I looked over my shoulder to see five or six of the highest ranking of the Pharisees coming into view. The assembly parted and allowed the religious elite to make their way toward the front. Before they could sit down, Jesus greeted them with a shout-out.
“Look who it is. Woe to you, teachers of the Law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to. You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and then you make that convert twice as much a child of hell as you are.”
Ouch.
I flinched and hoped Jesus wouldn’t say anything else to inflame the hatred the Pharisees had for Him.
“No wonder they don’t like Him,” Reywal whispered.
I worried if Jesus knew how much danger He could be in if He continued to excoriate the religious leaders. If He knew, He didn’t seem to care.
“Woe to you, teachers of the Law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to be righteous, but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.”
Double ouch.
“You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell?”
“Excuse me,” I said as I sidled past Reywal into the aisle. “I’ll just be a moment.” I made my way to the back of the crowd, stomped my hooves, shook all over, and screamed like a banshee. Shedding myself of stroke-level anxiety, I made my way back and took my seat next to my wide-eyed cohort.
“Sorry, what did I miss?”
“Do you do that often?” Reywal scrunched over to give me plenty of space.
“No, no. Just when I’m unusually stressed. Like right now.”
I tightened my neck and pulled my head down toward my shoulders as if by doing so I could dodge the arrows Jesus was lobbing at the Pharisees.
“Therefore I am sending you prophets and sages and teachers. Some of them you will kill and crucify; others you will flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town. And upon you will come all the righteous blood that has been shed on the earth. Truly I tell you, the full penalty of your sin will come on this generation.”
The crowd was shocked into silence.
“Is He always like this?” Reywal asked. “I don’t remember ever seeing Him angry before.”
“We were in heaven when you saw Him last. There was nothing to be angry about.” I cleared my throat. “At least there wasn’t until— well, you know.”
The crowd found its voice, and the murmuring began.
“Why is He saying such things to our priests and teachers?” someone in the crowd whispered.
“What does He mean? Our rabbis are not in sin, are they?”
Seizing the moment of confusion, the Pharisees rose to their feet and began making their way to the quickest exit. That’s when Jesus, His eyes full of emotion, took several steps toward them with outstretched arms.
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you leaders of Israel who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.”
“He’s insane,” one of the priests said under his breath.
“Walk faster,” said another.
“Schizoid,” said Reywal.
“What did you call Him?” I was angry.
“Multiple personality disorder—you know, good Jesus/bad Jesus. It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“It most certainly is not, and don’t ever say such a thing again.”
That’s what I said, but here’s what I was thinking:
Jesus, if You’re going to criticize the Pharisees in public, You simply must be consistent. The range of Your passion is too extreme for humans to process in short spans of time. I recommend saying nothing more at this time.
He ignored my counsel entirely. Jesus raised His voice so the whole assembly could hear.
“You teachers of Israel, hear Me. Unless you repent, your house will be left to you desolate.”
The chastised Pharisees stumbled all over one another in their hurry to get away.
“You stepped on my robe.”
“You tore my tassel off.”
“Did not.”
“Just keep moving.”
As the perplexed crowd dispersed to go home, one of the disciples stepped in front of Jesus and confronted Him.
“Why did You do that? Isn’t it enough that You’ve jeopardized all of us with Your disregard for the Law? Must You also insult our religious leaders to their faces? Why can’t you see they are not Israel’s problem? Rome is the problem.” He paused, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked Jesus in the eye. “Who are You?”
When Jesus didn’t answer, he turned abruptly and ran away. I pointed to him as he ran roughshod through the crowd.
“And that would be Judas.”
R
EYWAL TOOK OFF
after Judas, and was I ever glad to be rid of him. I was afraid Judas’s words had hurt Jesus’ feelings. I hoped one of the disciples would try to encourage Him by saying Judas was crazy and didn’t speak for any of the rest of us, but no one did.
Guys, one of you needs to stand up in Jesus’ defense. I know He’ d do the same for you.
Not one of them said a word of support as they continued packing up. Could it be they, like Judas, were also having doubts about Jesus? I tried to talk to them.
“Why are you acting like you know better than He does? God is not required to explain His ways to you. Jesus is God’s Son. You do know that, don’t you?”
Right then I had an out-of-body experience. The world started spinning, and déjà vu—I was back in heaven on that awful day when Lucifer rebelled. I felt it all over again, just what the disciples were feeling at that moment, the agony of doubt and indecision.
What do I do? Who’s going to win? Where do I stand? I changed my mind. It’s too late.
When I snapped back into my body, I darted frantically between the disciples.
“Don’t make my mistake! Stand firm! Judas is wrong!”
“Peter, James, and John,” Jesus called out to them. “Let the others finish up here. The three of you come with Me to the top of the mountain. I’m going to pray.”
They didn’t protest or ask why, but they weren’t enthusiastic about going.
I was too distraught to stay behind. I had to go along. If they were close to defecting, I knew Jesus wouldn’t do one single thing to stop them. He was just like His Father that way. No matter the consequences, He would not override their free will.
John is the most levelheaded of the three. Maybe I can talk sense to him on the way up.
“John, think back to the demoniac and the pigs.” I tugged on his sleeve, but he didn’t look my way. “When the townspeople told Jesus to leave, what did He do? He left. If you threaten to leave Him, He’ll let you go, and there’s no way back.”
We climbed for about an hour until we arrived at a wide ledge. Jesus told the men to sit down while He found a place to pray. I myself was pooped, emotionally exhausted, and out of breath from the altitude, so I was the first to find a rock to sit on.
Should I bang my head on it or just lie down? My efforts don’t seem to matter to anyone.
I opted to lie down. Jesus stepped over me as He walked to the edge and began to pray. None of the others were praying, just eyeing Jesus and speculating under their breath.
