I, Judas

by Taylor Caldwell

  “And you,” said the Master, “make straight in this desert a highway to that heaven.”

  A glow came to the Baptist’s face. “Would the Son of Man baptize him who cried alone in the Wilderness?”

  “As you will, but first sprinkle me with the water you have made holy with your faith.”

  “That I will do. For a man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven. He who has the bride is the bridegroom, but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands near him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice. This my joy is therefore fulfilled.”

  The Baptist plainly spoke not only to the Master but to the multitude.

  “Since he is greater, I baptize him through the prophet who said how we would find the Son of Man, and how he would find us.”

  Looking at Levi and the others, I saw a reflection of my own emotions in their faces. For all Jews knew that the Son of Man was the Anointed, the Messiah or Christ, promised by the prophet Ezekiel.

  How well we knew the words of the prophet.

  “And he said unto me, Son of Man, stand upon thy feet, and I will speak unto thee.”

  The Master’s head was lifted to the heavens, and in the immense depths of his eyes I could see the endless ages of time.

  Not even Ezekiel could have spelled out his own words with greater fervor.

  “And the spirit entered into me when he spoke unto me and set me upon my feet. And he said unto me, ‘Son of Man, I send thee to the children of Israel, to a rebellious nation that hath rebelled against me. For they are impudent children and stiffhearted. I do send thee unto them, and thou shalt say unto them, Thus saith the Lord God. And they, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear, yet shall know that there hath been a prophet among them.’”

  The Master inclined his head, as if to indicate that all surely knew this prophet was John.

  As a Judean of the twelve tribes, I exulted that the ceremony now unfolding was a fulfillment of all that had been written.

  “And thou, Son of Man,” said John with unaccustomed tenderness, “be not afraid of them, neither be afraid of their words, though briers and thorns be with thee, and thou dost dwell among scorpions. Be not afraid of their words, nor be dismayed at their looks, though they be a rebellious house. And thou shalt speak my words unto them, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear; for they are most rebellious. But thou. Son of Man, hear what I say unto thee: Be not thou rebellious like that rebellious house, but open thy mouth, and eat that I give thee.”

  The Baptist again dipped his hand into the Jordan and gently put his hand to the Master’s forehead.

  “Son of Man, I have made thee a watchman unto the House of Israel. If thou warn the righteous man that the righteous sin not, and he doth not sin, he shall surely live, because he is warned. Also thou hast delivered thy soul.” His voice rose. “Son of Man, lift up thine eyes toward the north. Seest thou what they do? Even the great abominations that the House of Israel committeth there?”

  I stole a look at the carping Sadoc, for all knew the Holy Temple was meant. His face flushed and he gave the two in the water a poisonous look. But they were oblivious to such as he, for clearly the Divine Spirit had passed between them. And they were in a realm apart.

  The Baptist’s eyes had closed, but when he opened them I saw the tears. He had a distant look, and his voice, too, seemed far off, as though peering beyond the veil of time, for the message was still Ezekiel’s. “And he brought me to the door of the court. And he said unto me. Go in, and behold the wicked abominations that they do here. So I went in and saw, and beheld every form of creeping things, and all the idols of the House of Israel, portrayed upon the wall round about. And there stood before them seventy men of the ancients of the House of Israel, and he said unto me. Son of Man, hast thou seen what the ancients of the House of Israel do in the dark, every man in the chambers of his imagery? For they say, The Lord seeth us not; the Lord hath forsaken the earth.”

  It was clear that the Sanhedrin’s body of seventy was meant, but what had these venal men to do with the Son of Man? The Messiah was not their concern, but the Council’s.

  For the Baptist, none existed but the man whose hand rested on his shoulder, and he intoned in a voice suddenly tinged with sorrow: “And when I looked, behold, a hand was sent unto me. And there was written therein lamentations and mourning and woe. For, behold, Son of Man, they shall put bands upon thee, and shall bind thee with them.”

  I looked to see how the Master took these foreboding words of Ezekiel, but he only inclined his head slightly, and then peered over the Baptist’s head into the crowd.

  “Whatever my Father wills,” he said, “I accept in his name.”

  The Baptist appeared to be listening to a distant voice. Abruptly he held up his hand and said with a throb in his throat: “I hear the voice of the psalmist. And he tells who we have here today, and whom he serves.” He would have fallen to his knees, but the Master stayed him. Almost engulfed with emotion, he sang out the psalm until it echoed over the heads of the people.

  “I will declare the decree. The Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my son. This day have I begotten thee.” He bowed low before the Master, and his voice rang out: “You are indeed my son with whom I am well pleased.”

  I had been ready for the Messiah, the Deliverer, the Prince of Peace, but not this. The Son of God. He himself must then be a deity. It was a stultifying thought, and I could tell from the stunned silence that even the most enthusiastic were thrown into confusion. Did not our schema, wrapped inside every phylactery, remind Israel that the Lord God was one, indivisible, and that there were none before him? We could accept the Messiah, for whom all Israel was waiting, but a Son? Was he then a God as well?

  But this crisis was soon resolved by the Master himself. “I come to you,” said he, “on the wings of the prophet Isaiah, who tells Israel: ‘Behold my servant, whom I uphold, mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth. I have put my spirit upon him.”

  The Baptist was in no mood to retreat.

  “You are the embodiment of Israel and will fulfill the covenant God made with his people.”

  And what could that be but that God, through Israel, would triumph over all nations?

  My heart sang with joy. He would find us worthy. We were ready to do battle, and with him we would win. For truly he was God-sent for one like John to be subordinate. John’s smoldering eyes appeared to demolish the doubters. And in his fiery style he lashed out once again. “Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me. And the Lord, whom you seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom you delight in. And who shall stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap. And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may make unto the Lord an offering of righteousness.”

  Surely this meant that the Master, whose name we did not even know, would launch an assault on the Temple before moving against the tyrant who kept these false priests in power.

  I searched the Master’s face for a clue.

  “I will do what I am sent to do,” he said quietly.

  “It will come after I am gone,” said John.

  The Master’s eyes were like the dew and I recalled with a start the inscription on the Jewish shekel: “I shall be as the dew unto Israel.”

  A look of resolution came over the Baptist’s face. “I do now what I was sent to do. In the name of God the Father, and the Holy Ghost, I sprinkle you, Joshua-bar-Joseph, with the living water. Hereafter, because your mission will extend into every nation, you will be known in many tongues as Jesus the Christ, the savior of the world, the Anointed of the Lord. Through you shall salvation come for the peoples of the earth.”

  I detected a barely perceptible change in that serene figure whose name we had just heard. His face paled and his hand shook. His eyes closed for an instant.
And then I realized that whatever he was to God, he was human as well and could suffer like the rest. I was glad, for I had no faith in Gods who walked like men. Rome was full of them. Better, I thought, looking at him reverently, a man who walked like a God.

  The Baptist had knelt now, like so many had unto him. And the man Jesus dipped his hand in the Jordan and lightly touched the Baptist’s head.

  “In the name of the Father, I prepare the way for you, John, once Jochanan-bar-Zacharias, into the Kingdom of Heaven. You have served God well, messenger of Israel.”

  He rubbed his palms together to dry them. “No more shall these hands baptize, for no greater than he shall hereafter baptize, though many others shall baptize in my name.”

  They came out of the water together, John’s head bowed, the Master, as I would know him, making ready to address the expectant crowd. His eyes roamed over the assemblage, taking note of the least stir. The two had been speaking Aramaic between them, with occasionally a word of Greek. But he now spoke in Hebrew, as if to stress that his ministry was first to his own people.

  His voice was deep and musical and pitched effortlessly to whatever range or place he wished his words to carry. About his broad shoulders he had now thrown a plain prayer shawl, free of the stripes which reflected the separateness of the Pharisees from the rest of the religious community.

  There was nothing of the fanatic or the ascetic about him. Indeed, as he looked about him and saw the long faces of the Essenes, a gleam almost of mischief came to the azure blue eyes.

  He searched the sky. He appeared to be listening.

  “I have not come before,” said he finally, “because Israel was not ready. None would have believed, and though many will scoff, some will believe. And these will carry the message of another kingdom, greater than this, to the Chosen of Israel, so that one day the world will be aware of God’s salvation.

  “Israel is again in the hands of the Philistines, but this too shall pass. For the greatest enemy is not the enemy without, but the enemy within: your own wavering loyalty to God, the commandments, and the emissary sent from heaven unto you.”

  From the gasps on all sides I could tell that he had stirred in the multitude a sense of wonder. Who was this stranger, vouched for only by John, who was now talking so boldly of descending from heaven?

  He had spoken for only moments, but I already knew that his was not to be an easy ministry. He had come to shock the people out of their complacency. This was evident in his every word. There were no sacred sheep in his flock. For with one breath, he now chided both the Pharisees and the Essenes, who made such a show of their piety.

  “Piety without joy, faith without cheer, duty without pleasure, prayer without delight—these do not please the Lord God.”

  Some dour countenances took on the purplish color of their fringed shawls, and even the Baptist seemed struck silent.

  But he was not at all disconcerted, for he went ahead almost as if speaking of a new faith. “I have not come to put new patches on old garments. And the ways I have chosen are my own. Has not God said, justice do I demand of you and not the blood of sacrifices? I have not come to call the righteous to repentance, but the sinners. And not alone by mortification and fasting shall man serve the Lord. I say unto you that you shall come close to him only in joy. For the good man, like the good tree, gives forth good and not evil. Beware of too much righteousness, for they that fast overmuch are sicker than the sick in body.”

  Sadoc’s beady eyes looked triumphant.

  “You say you come from heaven?”

  Jesus looked at him calmly. “No man shall ascend to heaven unless he comes from there.”

  I understood of course that he was speaking of reincarnation, but not for a moment would any Sadducee grant this concept.

  “And you call yourself the Messiah?”

  The hint of a smile played on the Master’s lips.

  “You say that, Sadoc.”

  Sadoc was visibly taken aback.

  Like John, Jesus obviously had the gift of divination, for how else could he name a man he had never seen before?

  “You have accomplices in the crowd,” cried Sadoc in his frustration.

  “Many I trust,” said the Master, serenely moving his eyes over the throng.

  “You call yourself the Son of God?”

  Jesus shook his head good-naturedly. “John was reciting from Scripture.”

  Sadoc’s look said the impostor would not get off so easily. “He applied it to you, and you accepted it as such.”

  “We are all children of God, Sadoc, even you.”

  Again, Sadoc seemed to be getting the worst of it. But he drove on relentlessly.

  “If you are the promised Deliverer, from what will you deliver us?”

  “From hatefulness and hypocrisy,” the Master replied.

  The Baptist seemed restive under this attack on Jesus, but there was no stopping the Sadducee.

  “Should we not know more about you before we acclaim you our leader?” he said in his silkiest voice.

  “Ask what you like.”

  “Who are your parents, that you should be born in heaven?”

  “My Father is in heaven.”

  “Have you no parents on this planet, or did you appear in a cloud one rainy day?”

  “My earthly father was Joseph, a poor carpenter of Nazareth, dead these many years, and my mother, Mary, a sainted angel if there ever was one.” How clear it all was now, the rod of Jesse, the nazar, the Nazarene.

  Sadoc sensed that the people were troubled about the newcomer’s antecedents.

  “But the Messiah,” he said with an air of triumph, “was to be born in Bethlehem of a virgin of the royal House of David.”

  Jesus smiled. “Many have been born so, without being the Messiah.”

  “You deny being a Nazarene?”

  “I deny nothing, now or ever. Only God knows what I am, for by his will alone am I here.”

  He was being evasive, but I could hardly blame him in the circumstances.

  “In the five books of Moses,” said Sadoc, a malevolent gleam in his eye, “the Lord God warned his people: ‘If there arise among you a prophet, or a dreamer of dreams, and he shall speak of other gods, thou shalt surely kill him. Thine hand shall be the first upon him to put him to death, and afterwards the hand of all the people.’”

  Jesus gave him a placid look.

  “I lead no man from God, only to him, just as Moses led the people of Israel out of bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land.”

  Sadoc laughed in his glee. “You make yourself the equal of Moses?”

  “I do nothing of myself, only with my Father’s help.”

  Sadoc had been biding his time. “Then, Almighty Prophet, with the connivance of your father, save this small child, if you can.”

  It was a cruel thing to do. Looking behind him, the Sadducee brought forward a mother and child. The child was clinging to the woman and sobbing in fright. She could have been no more than seven or eight years old. Her body quivered, and I could see that she still shook after she ceased weeping. She suffered from the palsy, an incurable ailment.

  “Cure this child, if you are sent of God.”

  A frown clouded the Master’s face, and I could see his fingers clench and unclench.

  “God’s work is not a spectacle for the curious.”

  Sadoc rubbed his hands together in his exuberance.

  “So it is only talk.”

  I saw a momentary indecision, and then a light seemed to emanate from Jesus’ eyes.

  “The Lord loves little children, for they have not yet learned the wicked ways of the world and so, in their innocence, are dearer to him than any.”

  “You will not talk your way out of this one,” cried a jubilant Sadoc, drawing so near Jesus that the Baptist stepped into his path.

  Jesus moved forward coolly and gently touched the child.

  Sadoc was about to scoff further when the shouts of the people drowned him
out. “It is a miracle,” they cried. “The child is healed.”

  The quivering had indeed stopped, and the child, her arms about her mother, was crying: “Mother, I felt warm, and then the pain left me. I am well.”

  Where Jesus had placed his hand on the child’s neck, the skin had turned red. Presumably a healing energy had flown out of him into the child.

  “It is a trick,” cried Sadoc. “The man is a magician and practices black magic like the Chaldeans.”

  Jesus gave him a scornful glance. “And if the child had not been healed, what then? I tell you, Sadoc, you have much to answer for in cynically abusing one of God’s children.” He lifted up the mother, who had fallen at his feet. “Rise and go with your child, knowing that God took notice of this day.”

  Jesus then mingled with the people. Their watchful reserve had melted away with the remarkable healing, which did more than any words to convince them that this man was indeed sent by God.

  Levi and Simon Zelotes pressed through the throng to kiss his hand. Others clamored for healings, but he appeared not to notice. I held back, not knowing how to behave in his presence. But after a while his eyes fell upon me and his head inclined sightly, as if encouraging me to come forward. I saluted him, bending to the ground.

  “You are indeed the Son of God,” I said in a voice hoarse with emotion.

  He stood off and gave me a sad smile, as if he knew something that I didn’t know. Before I could speak his eyes swiftly took in Levi and Simon, and the Zealots, Cestus and Dysmas, who still hung back, still unsure, apparently, that he was the leader they were looking for.

  His sad gaze returned to me.

  “I will be at the campfire tonight. Join me there if you will.”

  The crowd still looked on him expectantly, save for the glowering Sadducees and Pharisees, who wisely kept their own counsel, judging correctly that the throng had swung over to him.

  “Ask what you like,” said he, “and my Father shall hear you. For he is everywhere, in the very trees and flowers, in the skies and the earth, and in you yourselves, when you permit it by good thoughts and actions.”

  Again there was a clamor by the ailing. “Help us, help us,” they cried, holding up their canes and pushing forward their withered limbs and raddled faces.