by Krishna Rose
I would have no one to defend me from Peter’s insolence, for Jesu was the only one brave enough to challenge his injurious insults. The men never hazarded to go against him, they just rolled their eyes and nodded at one another in silent understanding—there goes Peter again, blowing off steam.
“Peter, that’s enough!” James said suddenly. “She is my brother’s wife and she is to be respected. I will not stand by and let you speak to her thus. You and I will have a serious problem if you reproach her before me.” “Oh come on James! Are you in all seriousness going to defend her? Do you not see through her malicious intent? She wishes to rule us. It has always been so. Well, I’m not falling for it!” he said, narrowing his eyes in my direction.
Tilting my head back boisterously in an easygoing manner, I laughed at Peter, dismissing his accusations as reprehensible—staying strong in my role. I refused to lose steam in the face of Peter’s lofty accusations. I was getting good at this, like an actor on a stage.
“Your discrimination betrays you, Peter,” I replied. “You are blind to the unvarnished truth, that your Master lives,” I said, believing in my own lie. ‘Well in spirit at least,’ I thought, as conviction grew in me. Part of it was a reaction to the immoral way in which Peter treated me, the other was my pressing need for survival. I wanted to get my consignment completed . . . get it done and make a quick escape. Then I could make my move, away from people like Peter, who I found weary. I was puzzled as to why Jesu had kept him close, for he knew that we all suffered him in silence. Such was Jesu’s vision. Beyond our petty problems, he saw the innocence in us. In Peter, he had seen an ability, as well as a way to further our mission. I, however, was not so tolerant. Life was hard enough.
“Did you not have faith that he would be restored?” I said, stretching my tired limbs, imitating courage. “Uncle Joseph secretly made arrangements to bring Jesu down from the cross before sundown so that he could be revived,” I reported truthfully, endeavoring to have the right amount of enthusiasm in my voice.
“Sister, sit with us a while and tell us what you saw,” James said politely, giving me a chance to explain. Refusing to sit, I assumed an air of excitement, grateful for the opportunity to tell my very well-rehearsed story. Pacing the floor, seemingly overwhelmed by what had transpired, I told them, “When I came upon the sepulcher this day, where before we had left him, I noticed that the stone had been rolled away. The guards were nowhere to be seen. Obviously I was alarmed, thinking that someone might have stolen my husband’s body,” I said pausing, glancing in Peter’s direction. “Just like you said Peter—that had been my first thought too,” I said, offering him credence for his quick thinking. He liked to be complimented, and I had become expert in dishing out compliments to him whenever I needed to calm his fiery spirit.
“So I ran inside the sepulcher to where my husband had been buried, and there stood two angels dressed in white,” I lied. ‘Be not afraid, for your spouse is not here. He has been raised,’ they said in unison. Just then, I heard someone coming, so I went to see who it was. I was beside myself with uncertainty, thinking that perhaps I was dreaming. But there in the garden, I saw a man in the dim light, his figure was indistinct, for he was masked by the shadows. He was seated upon a rock, as if he had expected my arrival there.
“Though at first I did not recognize him. ‘Why are you weeping?’ he asked in a gentle voice, as I was of course by now quite desperate. So I told him, ‘Good man, this is the tomb of my husband who I laid to rest here just two days last. And now upon coming here again to perform final burial rites, I find that he is not where I had left him. I thought that perhaps his body may have been stolen, but just a moment ago, inside the sepulcher, I saw two angels, who informed me that my spouse is risen! Now I know not where he is, nor what I should do.’ I was by this time, nauseated with worry, wondering what could have happened to him,” I said clutching at my stomach convincingly.
“Then the stranger, as if sensing my hurt, came to me ‘Mariam, it is I,’ he said, and when he spoke to me, immediately I recognized him,” I said, floods of tears falling from my lying eyes, half-believing my own wondrous tale. “So I ran to him, falling to my knees, but he stepped away from me, saying ‘Do not touch me, for I am not yet fully risen.’
“Standing a few feet from where I kneeled, he shone like the risen sun, such that it hurt my eyes to look upon him. Then he instructed me to deliver you the message of his resurrection,” I said looking Peter square in the eyes, so that he might feel comforted by my words. Peter listened nervously, cracking his knuckles in a threatening way. He seemed uncomfortable and distracted.
“Then what happened?” James probed, as Peter’s wife, Mari, handed me a drink, which I sipped gratefully. “After he told me to come to you, then . . . well . . . then he disappeared from sight like a ghost,” I concluded with a dramatic ending, drawing on all my hidden womanly wile.
Drying the tears from my flushing face with the edge of my mourning dress, I persuaded myself to continue. Was it the heat of the fireplace, or the heat of my lie which made me blush so? I moved away from the fire. Mari smiled compassionately, as if she ‘knew’. Sighing, I told them, “My spouse has established the tabernacle. He has broken the seal of death and been rewarded with the title Messiah. He is victorious!” I said emotionally.
Walking over to the chair where my cape lay, in case I needed a hasty exit, I pretended to be self-confident. With a sudden cheer to my voice, believably, I announced, “Celebrate this day brethren, for on this day the Master has risen! Go to the sepulcher—see for yourselves. And once you return, tell the others what you have seen. Then go forth and spread the good news carefully amongst our followers,” I said convincingly, staring off into the dark corner where Peter still stood. “Now I must make haste. Without delay, I came straight here to share with you the glad tidings. Now I am anxious to see The Mary and tell her the good news,” I said with a playful grin. “Like a tree which has bloomed in the dead of midwinter, the miracle of resurrection has come to pass,” I said, making a show of contentedness, avoiding eye contact with James, who knew me too well.
As if deep in thought, there was an uncomfortable deafening silence. I knew not which way to go with this. I had to convince them. “I am saddened to see how willingly you disbelieve me, though I am more dismayed to see how little faith you have in your Master. I have offended you and filled you with anger and mistrust, so please forgive me. I shall now take my leave of you.”
“Mariam, one thing,” James said all at once, “Where is he?” “I do not know Brother,” I said sincerely, with a far off look in my eye. “Now I must make haste, for your mother is with Sarah and the others, and they are no doubt waiting for my return. I left at the crack of dawn and have not since returned,” I said, reaching for the door with a spring in my step, as if I could not contain my happiness. “Forgive me,” I said genuinely, bowing to them respectfully.
Cephas, known as Peter, forcefully strode towards me, blocking my way with both his arms in front of the door. “Peter!” James shouted rushing to my side. “For God’s sake man, you will rouse the whole neighborhood, may the Lord protect us. Go, Mariam. I will come soon to see my mother, sister, and brothers,” he said, setting Peter aside. “Let her go!” he demanded.
Peter lunged at the door like a mad man, glancing bitterly in my direction out of the corner of one eye. “I shall see for myself!” he said indignantly. And with that, he turned on his heels like a bird escaping a cage.
“Mariam, where is he?” James asked me again, this time kneeling at my feet pleadingly. “Brother, I do not know,” I answered without hesitation, reaching for his arm to help him back up. I needed to be careful not to let my guard slip. “Like I said, he disappeared before I could ask him anything,” I lied.
“Mariam, why do you lead us astray?” he asked in a l
ow hushed voice, penetrating my shield with a knowing look in his eye. ‘Don’t break down,’ I told myself. “You came here speaking one thing, while your eyes betray you,” he whispered. “Forget you how well I know you? Pretending—you attempt to beguile us. Now tell me truthfully what really happened?” he said, brazenly leaning towards me, so that the rest of them could not hear. He hoped that I would tell him my secret in his ear!
I knew that I had to act quickly. It would be harder to fool James than it was to draw the others into my lie. “I told you the truth,” I whispered, withdrawing from his close proximity. Crossing my arms protectively in front of me, I bit at my lip, attempting to force back my tears which could so easily betray me. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lie to James. Nor would I be able to face The Mary or the others.
I ached to confide in someone so that this very great burden would be unloaded. James doubted me and it had put me on edge.
“Mariam, I have known you all of my life. Do you really think you can deceive me? I know for certain that you keep a secret from me Sister,” he said intrusively, trying to catch my gaze. Panicking, I asserted “You are wrong. What I told you is the truth! I am just weary and still in shock . . . but do not doubt me Brother,” I said, telling only a half-lie . . . making excuses for my irrational behavior.
James was like Jesu in many ways, though of course he was only a half-brother, for he was the son of Yosef who had married The Mary after her husband’s tragic death. “I may yet be shaken for a long time to come . . . in fact I may never recover from this” I said truthfully.
Sensing he wasn’t buying my story, I told him, “Brother, do as you will. I cannot wait for you. You have little confidence in me and even less in your risen brother. I am sorry to see that your faith in him is weak. I had hoped to find a believer in you.”
Hurrying to the door, I cut myself loose from a particularly precarious situation, grateful to escape Peter’s stuffy house. James’s prying eyes and perceptive questioning had been agonizing.
When Peter returns, he will proclaim to all that the tomb was indeed empty. Knowing him, he would no doubt find a way to turn these events to his advantage. Perhaps their faith would change. Perhaps not.
“Dear Lord, please forgive me and give me Your strength, for I have sinned against my brother this night,” I whispered.
In haste, I turned towards my uncle’s estate, to face The Mary and the rest of my family. My burdensome charge was far from completed.
CHAPTER 6
BRAVERY
Bravery is having courage in the face of great fear or difficulty.
PETER & THE DISCIPLES
All that day, Peter had characteristically vacillated between faith and doubt concerning his Master’s possible resurrection. As he came upon the sepulcher, he saw that there were no guards and the front stone had been rolled aside—just as Mariam had described. Cautiously, Peter went inside like a burglar in the night. He was surprised to find the bloody linen burial shrouds still lying there, as if his Master’s body had just evaporated.
Peter was angry with himself, for he had lashed out at the one person his Master loved more than anyone—Mariam. But his anger had overtaken him, as it often did. He felt cheated that their Master had risen and shown himself first to her—a woman. ‘Envy,’ he thought to himself. ‘Let it go!’
Peter had struggled with enviousness all of his life. Even as a child, he had been jealous of his brother, Andrew, who was coolheaded and handsome, unlike himself. Jesu had been the only living soul in Peter’s life, who had unreservedly accepted him. He stilled Peter’s irksome sin, which like a devil overpowered him at times—like his anger. These things interfered with his capacity for being perceived as the righteous spiritual man he knew he was.
But Jesu had loved him in spite of his shortcomings. He had given him faith, that deep down he was a virtuous and sincere man deserving of love. Peter had for his whole life doubted himself, and the Master, out of great affection for him, had raised him up. Peter grew sorrowful when he thought that perhaps his Master hadn’t come to him first, because he had denied him in the aftermath of his arrest, in Annas’s courtyard—before the cock had crowed. In fact, the cock had crowed three times that night, for Peter had denied any affiliation with his Master that many times—fulfilling Jesu’s prediction.
This was something Peter deeply regretted—it might even be the cause of his downfall. But at least the Master had sent Mariam to deliver the good news to him first, over the others. He had told her to come to him even before his own family! ‘He thought of me . . . Peter, before his own mother!’ he thought smugly to himself.
“No one is here!” he muttered to himself suspiciously, exploring the empty catacomb. Instinctively he rolled up the bloodstained shroud, tucking it under his cape. And with that, Peter left for his house to meet with the others, to decide upon their next move. On his way home, he continued to dance between faith and doubt. He could see an opportunity before him, and with thoughts racing, he was emphatically determined to report that he too had seen their risen Master.
This would ensure that he had been trusted with a vision of the resurrected Messiah—before the others. He could not be seen to be beneath a woman, for that was more than he could bear. This would assert his authority over the group. ‘Pride,’ he thought to himself, ‘wicked pride.’
Peter sat down in a field, to carefully map out his plan.
Resurrection day was a terrible day in the lives of the apostles. Most of them had spent the larger part of the day in the lower chambers of Peter’s house, where they oft would meet behind barred windows and doors. They might have fled Jerusalem, but fearful of being captured, they had remained, cloistered and hidden from sight.
Thomas brooded over his troubles alone. He was in the midst of one of his dark spells of despair which often overtook him. He had slept for part of the day in the hills outside of Jerusalem city, where he had found a rock to lay upon. There, he watched the clouds passing by peacefully. This eased his spirit. Thomas felt a pang to rejoin his fellow apostles, but the desire to be by himself was stronger. He did not wish to be involved with their discussions, and most likely, bickering. By the next day, he was so depressed that it required almost a week for him to make up his mind to return to Galilee.
All day long, John upheld the idea that his half-brother Jesu might survive and resurrect as promised. He reminded the others no less than five times of how Jesu had told them to have faith in him—for he would fulfill the prophecy. “At least three times he alluded to the third day,” John recalled. His positivity had considerable influence over some of them, especially on his elder brother James, who after meeting Mariam seemed to be in two minds whether to believe that his brother lived.
Their self-imposed isolation had much to do with their troubles. John, however, kept them in touch with regular news of developments at the temple, as well as the rumors already gaining headway in the city—that Jesu’s body was missing. Gossip was flooding the streets faster than butter could melt in the midday sun. The traitorous scheming temple priests, were already planning to cast a slur on the disciples’ good names, by saying that it was they who had stolen Jesu’s body—to deceive the gullible crowds who believed in the stories of his resurrection.
Sarah-Tamar wanted nothing more than to stay by The Mary’s side. She clung to her. She knew not what was happening. Her stepfather, Jesu, had been arrested and crucified. All she knew, was that her grandmother needed a silent, caring friend, and she intended to be that for her. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.
James had at first advocated that they all go to the tomb together. He was strongly in favor of doing something to get to the bottom of the mystery. It was Nathaniel who advised them not to be seen in public. He accomplished this, by reminding them of
Jesu’s warning against unduly jeopardizing their lives at this time. By noontime, James had settled down with the others in watchful waiting. He said little, and sat in a quiet melancholy mood staring at the fireplace deep in thought.
Andrew did much listening this day. He was exceedingly perplexed by the situation. Having had more than his share of doubts, he, at least, had a certain sense of freedom from responsibility—for guiding his fellow apostles would no doubt be his brother Peter’s job. On this day, he was grateful that Jesu had released him from the burden of having any position of leadership.
More than once during the long and weary hours of these tragic days, the only sustaining influence on the group, was the frequent contribution of Nathaniel’s characteristic philosophical counsel. He was the supporting influence among them. Never once did he express himself concerning either belief or disbelief in Jesu’s resurrection. But as the day wore on, he became increasingly inclined toward believing that their Master had done the impossible, as he had done on many occasions this year.
Simon was too demoralized to participate in the discussions. He had now lost two spiritual teachers to the jaws of death—as well as his friend, Judas. His faith was shaken. It rattled his brain. Most of the time he reclined on Peter’s couch with his face hidden beneath his shawl. He was disassembled in every way and prayer was his only consolation. He didn’t speak throughout the day, despite all the comings and goings, for his disappointment was very personal and altogether too deep to be recovered from in short notice, even in the face of such a stupendous rumor as resurrection.
Matthew was confused. He listened to the discussions of his brothers, but spent most of the time turning over in his mind the problem of their future finances. Regardless of Jesu’s alleged resurrection, money would be needed. There would be people to feed. And Judas, it was rumored, was dead. Judas had been the head of the group’s finances since the beginning. ‘Judas was the most trusted confidant of Jesu and Mariam. He held the purse—but I wonder where he kept all their money?’ Matthew pondered. Rumors were, that Judas had betrayed their Master for just a few petty coins. It was hard to believe, since he was undoubtedly not short of a penny. ‘It was a good thing Judas took his own life,’ he thought to himself, ‘for otherwise, one of them would have killed him. But not without first having knowledge of the money’s whereabouts!’