Saviour

by Christopher Gallagher

  One more session with each of them should wrap it up, Swanger thought, then, as a reward for their co-operation, Beaumont and Bocus would be extinguished without ceremony. The chemicals running down the lines into their bodies would be changed. It would be a slow descent into nothingness. Swanger shuddered, conscious of her own mortality, she didn't like to think about death. She couldn't imagine anything after this life, couldn't imagine not existing anymore either.

  Swanger stubbed out the butt end of her cigarette, rubbed her eyes, drained the glass of whisky. She knew full well she smoked and drank too much, the doctor at her last medical had advised her to cut back at once. She turned on the TV for a final glance at the news before leaving. A familiar face appeared on the screen. Jesus. He was seen arriving in York on the open topped bus. The crowds going wild. Swanger watched with amusement. Most politicians would sell their souls for a reception like that. A montage of shots followed showing Jesus schmoozing the crowds, healing the sick and breaking bread with the poor. What was he about?

  The picture changed. Caiaphas the Jewish high priest looked disapproving, the camera tracking him as he arrived at the Governor's residence. The picture changed again. Jesus once more at the fair this time, on the Waltzer, on the Dodgems, laughing, joking with his disciples, hanging out, having a good time and enjoying life.

  Why hadn't he harnessed the power of the people? Swanger wondered. Stormed his way into power. He had the looks, the popularity. The people would follow him anywhere. Because, she realised, he'd never intended it that way. If he was a king, then he was a different kind of king. A type never before experienced on earth.

  ✝

  After the meal, Jesus called for silence, said, 'This will be the last meal we share together.'

  There were concerned looks among the disciples, and conversation stopped. Jesus produced a wooden drinking bowl from his pack, poured wine, took a piece of leftover naan bread, looked up, and gave thanks. He broke the bread into pieces, handed it round the twelve. 'This bread is my body given for you, eat it, and remember me.'

  Mystified, they all ate a piece of bread.

  Jesus again looked up, gave thanks, and pouring wine into the bowl he passed it round the table, 'This is the new covenant made with my own blood, which is shed for you. Drink and remember me.'

  They all drank from the bowl. Tom noticed that Jude the Dude who drank last slipped the bowl into his own pack.

  Jamie said, 'what is happening Jesus, why you are saying these things? We're not giving up now, are we?'

  Jesus looked troubled. 'You don't understand, but soon it will become clear.' He looked at each of the disciples in turn. 'I'll tell you the truth. One of you around this table will betray me tonight.'

  'No.' Peter jumped to his feet. 'Never. That's impossible.' Feeling awkward, he sat down, noticed John leaning in towards Jesus. He beckoned to him. 'Go on John, ask him who it is.'

  Jesus looked at them both. 'Watch.' He said, and breaking a piece of naan, dipped it in some curry sauce, and gave it to Judas. 'It's time Judas, to do what you have to do. Go, and be quick about it.'

  Judas took the bread, stood, muttered something about needing a pee and left, throwing the piece of bread into the corner.

  After Judas had gone, Jesus once again bemused the remainder with his words. 'Brothers, we have travelled far and wide these past three years, but I'll be with you for just a short time now.’

  They looked at him in silence as he continued, 'Let me give you a new command, Love one another. I ask that you love each other in the same way I have loved you. In this way people will recognise you as my followers.'

  As the power and simplicity of these words settled on the room, Peter blurted out. 'Lord, where are you going?'

  'I am going,' Jesus replied, 'where you can't follow now, though you will follow me later.'

  'Why can't I follow you now?' Peter demanded.

  'You will look for me and want to join me, but I tell you now, where I am going you will not be able to follow.'

  There was much muttering and confusion until Jesus held up his hands. 'Tonight though, every one of you will lose faith in me. As it says in the ancient scriptures, "I will strike the shepherd and the sheep will be scattered".' He looked at them all. 'Believe me, it will happen.'

  'I would lay down my life for you Lord.' Peter stated.

  A sad smile creased Jesus’ face. ‘The truth, Peter,' Jesus said, 'is that before the cockerel crows tomorrow, you'll deny me three times.'

  Peter, speechless for once, looked at the other disciples, dared any to speak. Nobody met his eye. Nobody spoke.

  Jesus, unconcerned by Peter's annoyance, held his arms wide. 'Lads,' he implored, 'why the long faces? Don't let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God. Believe also in me. My Father's house has many rooms. I am going there to prepare a place for you. I'll come back and take you with me.'

  Silence.

  'You know the way to the place where I'm going.' Jesus assured them.

  'Lord,' Tom shook his head, 'we don't know where you're going. How can we know the way?'

  'I am the way and the truth and the life,' Jesus answered, 'no one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father as well.’

  'Lord,' Phil said, 'show us the Father and that will be enough for us.'

  'Don't you know me, Phil?' Jesus responded. 'Even after I've been with you such a long time.' He looked round them all. 'Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. Don't you believe that I'm in the Father, and the Father is in me? The words I say to you, I don't say on my own authority. It is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work. Believe me when I say that I'm in the Father and the Father is in me. Or at least believe in the evidence of the works themselves. I tell you the truth, lads, whoever believes in me will do the works I've been doing, and they'll do even greater things than these, because I'm going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.'

  The disciples were quiet as they took in Jesus' words. 'If you love me,’ he went on, ‘keep my commands. I will ask the Father to send you another advocate to help you and be with you for all time. The Spirit of Truth. The world can't accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.' He smiled. 'I will not leave you as orphans.'

  Peter, still smarting from being told he would betray Jesus, didn’t take in a lot of what Jesus was saying. John was busy writing it all down. At least he could read it later, he thought.

  After a short while, Jesus concluded by saying, 'Come on, lads, it's time to leave.'

  ✝

  The Garden.

  Peter paced up and down.

  It was a beautiful evening, mild for the time of year. T-shirt weather, not that Northumbrians needed mild weather to wear next to nothing. He remembered the lasses in the city earlier. The acres of flesh. It was a long time since he'd known a woman, too long. He remembered with shame the man he used to be, and the women of whom he'd taken advantage. Taking out his phone, he read again the texts from Jayne. Did he want her back? Could they make it work? He'd meant to ask Jesus what he thought, but now didn't seem the right time. He sighed, and walked some more.

  The moon, pale, and low in the sky, provided little light in the depths of the park. He could just about hear noises from the river Ouse, pleasure boats, blaring music, carousing. He looked around. It seemed quiet enough, no danger.

  It had been a good evening until Jesus had started talking about betrayal. What was that about? Peter recalled Jesus' words, 'One of you will betray me.'

  He knew Jesus was an excellent judge of character but to say that, and then point the finger at Judas. Okay the bloke could be a wazzock at times, but betrayal, to the authorities? Peter found that difficult to accept. No wonder Judas had rushed off in a huff.

  And then, to come out with, 'And you Peter, will deny m
e three times before the cock crows.'

  That had been hurtful. If anyone else had spoken like that, they'd be still picking up their teeth. But Jesus was another matter. You couldn't help loving the guy.

  Peter stopped by the bench, suppressed a burp. He rubbed his eyes. That third pint had been a mistake. Neither Jamie nor John responded. Peter looked at them with contempt. Jamie was slumped on a park bench, half curled up, arms wrapped round his body. His eyes were closed, and he twitched every so often. While John, the beloved John as he liked to call himself, was seated on the opposite end of the bench, one leg on the bench, one on the floor, head back, snores rasping.

  Pillocks.

  Both of them.

  He peered into the shadows. Could just make out the form of Jesus on his knees praying. Peter couldn't hear the words but it sounded urgent, desperate almost.

  Well he wouldn't let the Boss down. He was certain of that. He would stay awake, keep watch, and show these two he could be relied upon. Still, it wouldn't harm to sit down for a minute or two. He pushed John's leg from the bench, and slumped down.

  It was so peaceful here. It was hard to believe they were in the middle of a metropolitan city, the capital of Northumbria. He could almost believe he was out in the Dales. Peter closed his eyes, breathed in the night air. Life was good.

  ✝

  The Temple.

  The Temple, illuminated by discreet lighting, as magnificent at night as during the day was both welcoming and forbidding. The main gates were closed. Anybody wanting entry had to convince the security guard of their credentials. Judas could see the guard inside the booth. He looked to be making tea.

  He stood in the shadows over the road turning over in his mind the step he was about to take. He couldn't back away now. The man he'd met the previous night had made it plain. He'd been committed from the second he'd picked up the Silver Euro Express card with its weight of money, blood money. First thing he'd done was check the balance on the card. It was there alright. Thirty thousand Euros, his escape route.

  This was it though, the ultimate betrayal. He was giving up the man he'd lived side by side with for the past three years. There was no real alternative, Judas realised, not if he wanted to live, anyway.

  But to betray Jesus.

  Judas sighed, a deep heartfelt groan that came from the depths of his being. It was almost as if Jesus knew what was going to happen, who it was that would betray him. The way he'd looked at him, the way he'd said, 'It's time Judas, to do what you have to do. Go, and be quick about it.'

  Perhaps Judas was part of some cosmic plan. He'd never been convinced that Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah. In his head, yes, but not in his heart, not where it mattered. He wasn't alone in that, the mood of the people seemed to be changing. There'd been grumblings of discontent since their arrival in the capital on Monday. They wanted a king to defeat the Saxons. Love and peace was all well and good, but it would never overcome the bomb and the bullet.

  But just supposing Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah, then Judas would be betraying God himself. That would put him on the side of the devil, the evil one. He wasn't sure he could live with that, the end result might be the same, no matter what he did.

  He shivered uncontrollably, looked around, there was nobody watching. Quick look at his watch, decision time.

  Judas, mind made up, crossed the road, entered the warmth of the security booth, gave his name to the guard, and was led into the Temple complex.

  ✝

  The Garden.

  Jesus looked at the sleeping disciples on the bench. His closest companions, sleeping like innocent children. He sighed, shook his head. 'Peter, Peter.'

  No response. Jesus shook Peter's arm. 'Peter.'

  Peter opened his eyes, saw who it was and struggled to his feet. 'Sorry, Boss. I just closed my eyes for a minute.' He shook Jamie and John awake. 'Hoy, you two, you're letting the Boss down, falling asleep on the job.'

  The other two roused themselves. They stood before Jesus, repentant. 'Your spirit is willing but your flesh is weak.' He told them.

  John and Jamie mumbled their apologies as Jesus continued. 'I need you three to keep awake, to keep watch. All of you pray that you don't have to face temptation.'

  With a final look, Jesus moved back to where he'd been praying earlier. Falling to his knees, he lowered his head until his forehead was touching the dry earth, said, 'Father, if it is not possible for this cup to pass from me then let your will be done.'

  Silence.

  Minutes passed, Jesus remained in the same position for a short while, and then went back to the disciples, who once again were asleep.

  More hurt than angry he left them, and knelt in prayer.

  He needed to be sure.

  He stood a few minutes later. There was no room for doubt.

  Silence was the affirmation.

  The time had come.

  He returned to the three disciples, shook them awake. 'Can you not keep awake for ten minutes? In a minute, you will see the Son of Man betrayed into the hands of evil men. Look,' he pointed, 'here comes my betrayer.'

  Peter exchanged glances with John and Jamie. He could tell they were as perplexed as he was. Peter looked at Jesus who was staring towards the park entrance.

  'Let's go meet them.' Jesus said and walked towards the gates.

  John and Jamie looked to Peter for direction. He shook his head in annoyance and frustration. They could stay or follow. He was tempted to stay. 'Come on,' he said after a second's hesitation. 'We can't leave him.'

  They hurried along the path after Jesus. 'Where are the others?' Peter asked.

  'Around. Here and there.' Jamie replied.

  'Round them up, meet us at the entrance.'

  John and Jamie hurried off to find the other disciples. If there was going to be trouble, there'd be safety in numbers. This is ridiculous, Peter thought. There’s nothing happening and nobody's here. But still, something had alarmed Jesus, and Peter, after the earlier criticism, wasn't taking any chances.

  It was the distant thrum, thrum, thrum of the helicopter seeping into Peter's consciousness that alerted him to the possibility of trouble, that and the flashing blue lights coming down the road. It was eerie seeing the lights penetrating the black of the park. Quiet too, no sirens to excite the good citizens of York. By the time Peter caught up with Jesus, he was waiting just inside the entrance looking at the gates. Peter stood by his side. They watched in silence as the convoy of vehicles came to a halt outside the park. The helicopter arrived overhead, took up station, its searchlight piercing the night air, lit up a wide circle around the two men.

  Peter touched Jesus' arm, leant in towards him, struggling to make himself heard above the rotor blades. 'There's still time to get away.' He said, but knew in his heart there wasn't.

  Jesus, staring as the Polizei officers began to disembark, said, 'I have to drink from the cup my father has prepared.'

  Uniformed officers formed up outside the gates. Peter could see they were armed but not expecting any trouble. This was a routine operation for them, an easy lift of a bunch of rebels. It was too late to get away now, they should have fled the moment Jesus sensed trouble. What was he playing at?

  The chopper with its spotlights and heat seeking equipment could follow them without any problems. There was no escape. Peter decided it would be better to go with the authorities and bluff it out. The others led by John, with Jamie bringing up the rear, arrived. He told them his thinking, was rewarded with nods of agreement. They formed up alongside Jesus, solidarity in action.

  A senior officer made his way through the gates. He was flanked by a sergeant and the rest of his squad, hands resting on their stun guns. Peter was amazed to see Judas trailing a step behind, the dog returning to its vomit.

  So Jesus was right after all.

  The inspector spoke to Judas who nodded, then stood in front of Jesus.

  Jesus smiled. 'Judas, my friend, you've returned.'

&nb
sp; 'Boss.' Judas acknowledged, leaned in, kissed Jesus on the cheek, then looked away, not meeting anybody's eye.

  'Are you Jesus?' The officer asked.

  'I am.' Jesus replied.

  'You're under arrest, on suspicion of sedition against the state.'

  'So, you've come with your helicopter and your armed police to arrest me like a common bandit,' Jesus shook his head, 'yet day after day I've been teaching in the Temple and you never laid a finger on me.'

  'Are you coming or not?’ The officer asked.

  'It is done like this in the night to fulfil the prophecy of the ancient scriptures.'

  'Let's go.' The sergeant spoke for the first time.

  'This is your hour.' Jesus replied. 'The power of darkness is yours.'

  Peter stirred. 'We'll come with you, Boss.'

  'They don't want you Peter, or the others.' Jesus told him.

  'He's right.' The sergeant said, an amused smile on his face. 'The rest of you can piss off. A chicken without a head will run around for a while but it's still a dead chicken.'

  Peter swung his fist, heard the satisfying crunch as it connected with the sergeant's face, and smiled as the man slumped to the floor in agony, his jaw shattered. He rubbed his knuckles ruefully.

  Jesus gave him a scathing look, stooped, touched the man's face, and helped him to his feet, his jaw healed. 'Keep your fists to yourself,’ he told Peter, ‘shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?'

  Peter, silent, looked round for the other disciples but they'd gone, scattered like sheep. He watched in impotent frustration as they handcuffed Jesus and led him away.