The way she says his name, with tenderness, tells me there's no convincing her otherwise. And deep within me—somewhere—I know she's right. But I won't admit it to her. I can't.
"And yes," Maria says, "you deserve my love more than anyone. And I'll give it to you." She cups my ear and whispers, "I'll give you all of me...I promise. But for now I want you to follow the Teacher. I'll meet you at the end of the month in the Holy City for the Great Festival. Will you do this for me?"
Imagining Maria and me together is sublime; I'd do anything to make it happen.
"Yes," I say, guilt descending into my soul. "But you must swear you'll come. Promise in the name of the one true God you'll be there."
"You have my word," she says. "Good things will happen in the Holy City, and then we'll be free. We'll start our life together. The Teacher is making all things new."
The guilt consumes me much faster than I expected. I thought I could explain our plan to Maria, make her understand why we must do what we will to the Teacher. But I see now she'd never understand. She's too enthralled by him to grasp the complexity of what it takes to liberate our people from oppression.
I take one more dig into Legion's hand then lie to her. "I'll follow faithfully and learn all I can from the Teacher. But then you and I will escape the South as soon as the Great Festival is over! Not a second later."
Maria kisses me, and I pray to God it won't be the last time I taste her lips.
But I know it is.
Later that morning, I don't go to the Office of Record. Instead I continue to follow the Teacher and his twelve students; they've begun to emulate him in important ways since we left Geth Park. After the Teacher gave them authority, they've been able to teach with power and occasionally heal the sick. And they do it like the Teacher—instantly, miraculously.
Petra, in particular, has proven himself a fine leader. He's as Jude described him, fearless. I've been looking for a chance to speak with him in private, to inquire about his allegiances, but so far the opportunity hasn't presented itself.
The Teacher's plan, as far as I can tell, is to travel and teach for a few weeks before setting out for the Holy City and the Great Festival. The Great Festival is the holiest of all our holidays. All the faithful attend with their families. As the Teacher is a holy man, it's especially critical that he attend the Great Festival. Should he choose not to, Jude and I have been charged with the task of getting him there.
We're more than capable.
But storm clouds are gathering. Miles and a few others believe that once the Teacher reaches the Holy City, he'll finally unveil his plan to overthrow the Kingdom. Miles thinks that even though the Teacher has advocated a peaceful resistance, his position will change during the Great Festival, when more Americans will be gathered than any other time of the year. There he will capitalize upon his growing fame to strike hard and fast against the Kingdom.
While this idea intrigues me, I doubt it will happen. During my short time with the Teacher, I've seen nothing that leads me to believe he'll gather an army. Besides, he doesn't need to, because Jude and I already have taken care of it. We'll do what needs to be done to win freedom while the rest of these men sit around and talk philosophy.
But the real reason I don't pay much attention to the Teacher's plans is because I know something he doesn't.
He'll be locked in prison before the festival's end.
ife on the road isn't half bad. The days are interesting, and the nights are quite fun. For a holy man, the Teacher is a surprisingly freewheeling fellow. He and his students rarely fast from food or drink, as the other religious authorities often do. Plus you never know what he'll say or do next. And I like that. If I'm honest, I've found myself enjoying the Teacher more with each passing day.
Jude says it's only natural to find him an attractive figure. After all, he gives so much to so many without asking for anything in return. But Jude also reminds me that I must keep in mind the ultimate goal and understand that his demise is necessary if we're to rise in rebellion.
I try to convince myself of this, but it's difficult to believe this about a man who's beloved by thousands. He literally breathes life into the lifeless and offers hope to the downtrodden. He's a hard man to hate.
But our plan is set. The men have abandoned their hiding place in the leper colony and are making their secret journey to the Holy City. So now there's nothing for Jude and me to do but make sure the Teacher arrives on time.
Frankly I could think of worse ways to wait out the revolution. Watching the Teacher stir up trouble is fun. Today has been no different—a full day of teaching and healing. The day has been so hectic that the Teacher, who's typically cheerful, looks exhausted. This morning I had a moment alone with him, and I nearly asked if I could do anything for him but then thought better of it. I can be close to him...but not that close.
The sun has set, and we've already prepared camp for the evening when the religious authorities from the Holy City arrive. One of them, a man with a fat belly hidden beneath a red robe, says, "Teacher, we've come from the Holy City, having heard of your wise counsel."
The Teacher greets them warmly.
Fat Belly says, "We know you've done great works today, many of which we saw with our own eyes, but we have a few questions for you, if it's not too much trouble."
The Teacher smiles, but I can see how weary he is. He looks as though he might topple over at any moment. "As you wish," he says.
This "questioning" from the authorities has come to be somewhat of a routine. These men are often angry with the Teacher because he teaches without having been properly ordained by our religious authorities. Like me, they're suspicious of his motives and often come to challenge his understanding of the Scripture. The other students get nervous about these encounters, but I love them because the Teacher has proven himself a great debater. More often than not, he confounds even the most learned of these men with his unorthodox responses. It's a fantastic show.
Fat Belly says, "Why do the students of the Baptist fast, but your students do not fast?"
Petra snickers loudly at the irony of the question. "When's the last time you missed a meal, old man?"
The Teacher shoots an annoyed glance at Petra. "The wedding guests can't fast while the bridegroom is with them, can they? As long as they have the bridegroom with them, they can't fast. The day will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast on that day."
The religious authorities argue among themselves over what the Teacher means by this, then ask, "Why do your students not live according to the tradition of the elders but eat with defiled hands?" The man asking this question gestures toward Miles and me; we're drinking wine and grilling chickens over a small fire.
The man is right. It's true that we don't follow the age-old customs of our religion out here on the road. It's simply not practical to wash our dishes and our hands according to the tradition we were taught in our youth. We Southerners are a people deeply entrenched in our ways, but here—with the Teacher—we've lived with a bohemian sort of freedom that I find exhilarating. But the authorities have a valid point. What we're doing flies in the face of our religion, of our rich heritage.
The Teacher says, "The prophets were right about you hypocrites. You abandon the commandment of God and hold on to human traditions."
The authorities holler in protest, arguing that the Teacher is the hypocrite, for he violates the law. The Teacher says, "Listen to me, all of you, and understand—there's nothing outside a person that can defile him by going inside him. The things that come out are what defile. Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters not the heart but the stomach? What comes out of a person is what defiles, for it is from within, from the human heart, that evil comes: fornication, murder, theft, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, and folly. All these evils come from within, and they defile a person."
T
he authorities gasp in horror. It's unthinkable to them that the Teacher can dismiss tradition so easily. They turn away to argue among themselves, trying to decipher the Teacher's words. The Teacher joins us at the fire, as he often does before departing for prayer.
We drink wine and eat, and do our best to ignore the religious authorities who return to declare they'll follow and watch the Teacher closely in the coming days. They make a separate camp for themselves nearby. Thank God.
We quietly discuss the events of the day for another hour, and then, when we're full with meat and wine, the Teacher departs for the evening. He ventures deep into the wilderness, where he will pray until the sunrise.
Two things happen the following week. First, I miss Maria so badly that I can hardly stand it. Second, I see the Teacher do things no man can do. And yet...he does them anyway.
A deaf man hears his own voice for the first time.
A twelve-year-old girl dies. And then she wakes up.
A bleeding woman is healed by reaching out and taking hold of the Teacher's clothes. The Teacher tells us later her faith made her well. Her faith.
Crowds of four thousand people endure the grueling heat to listen to the Teacher all day long. In the evening, when there's nothing to eat but seven loaves of bread, every mouth is fed.
A blind man sees.
A paralyzed man receives the freedom of movement. But perhaps even more astonishing, the Teacher forgives his sins, which settles the matter for the religious authorities; the Teacher is a blasphemer, they believe, for only God can forgive sins. They declare only one suitable penalty for a blasphemer: death.
Then the Teacher asks us a question that changes everything. "Who do people say I am?" The fourteen of us are walking alone when the question comes. There are no masses of people, only us, his students.
For a time no one says anything. Then I speak up. "They say you're a prophet. Perhaps one of the great ones returned from the grave?"
The other students echo my thoughts. They all agree the people see him as the Son of Man, sent from heaven to save the people from the tyranny of King Charles's kingdom.
The Teacher stops walking and listens to our replies. He presses us further. "But who do you say I am?"
Petra answers first, with fire in his voice. "You...are...the...messiah."
The Teacher's eyes give him away. I turn sharply to Jude, who keeps his focus trained squarely on the Teacher, clearly anxious to hear his reply.
But the Teacher says nothing to indicate whether Petra is correct. Instead he says, "Say nothing more of this."
"But," Petra begins, "we must—"
"What you must understand is that the Son of Man will undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and after three days rise again."
Petra takes the Teacher by his shoulders and forcefully leads him away from the group. It's the first time I've seen anyone handle him this way. In private Petra speaks harsh words to the Teacher. They argue madly over what the Teacher has just said.
"Get behind me, Evil One!" the Teacher yells. "For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." Then he calls to all of us, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me, for those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?"
No one dares offer a reply. His words stun us into silence.
The Teacher spends the night alone in prayer while the rest of us debate the meaning of what he has said. I say, "Must you die to be the Teacher's follower? Is this what he has in mind for all of you...death on a Kingdom cross? Is that where his "way" leads?"
Petra shakes his head violently. "It can't be! No! That's why I got so upset with him. I don't want the Teacher talking that way. It's absurd! No one here will die when we reach the Holy City. We've worked and struggled for too long. This will be a time of victory, not defeat. The only people who will die will be those who side with the Kingdom. End of story."
"Yes," Miles says, "but I'm beginning to wonder if the Teacher's notion of victory is different than ours. I'd thought he'd change his tactics by now. We're only days away from the festival, and still he makes no preparation for battle. We spend every waking moment with the poor, feeding widows, healing the lame. I don't protest these righteous actions, but at some point we must set our sights on higher things."
"Yes," I say. "This may sound crude, but freedom can't be won out here with the weak. It'll only be won in the city, where power resides. The message must be brought to the Holy City and the seat of power. The people may love the Teacher, but these aren't the crowds the Kingdom is afraid of. The Teacher spends his time and energy focusing on the wrong kinds of people."
Miles sighs. "I wish Maria were with us. She would understand the Teacher; she can always interpret his intentions."
The men raise their glasses in a toast to Maria. Everyone drinks, but no one is happy.
"The religious authorities shouldn't be dismissed so easily," I say. "It's a mistake. He's already broken the law in their eyes. I've heard whispers."
"Of what?" Petra asks.
"Of death. They say he heals by the power of Satan and commits blasphemy when he forgives the sins of prostitutes and tax collectors. Not even our most esteemed prophets have claimed this authority. Only God can forgive sin."
The mood of the evening sours to an irrevocable point, causing the students to disband. Each man wanders away from the fire to sleep alone in the darkness. Eventually only Petra and I are left sitting by the flames. I seize the opportunity, saying, "You've begun to doubt his methods, haven't you?"
Petra sighs deeply. "I have...or at least I did. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm just a man, not a prophet like the Baptist. But something happened that convinced me otherwise," Petra says.
I flinch. "What? What happened?"
"It was late. All of you were sleeping. The Teacher woke me up. He took Miles, John, and me up onto the mountain. We followed for an hour in silence, with no idea where we were going. When we reached the top of our climb, he was transfigured before us."
"Transfigured?"
"His clothes became a dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them."
"How could that be?"
"And then, standing before us, were the two great prophets of our religion, talking with the Teacher."
"The great prophets have been dead for ages! How could you have seen them?"
Petra gazes into the fire, transfixed by the whipping flames and crackling wood. "I have no idea. The three of us were terrified. We didn't know what to say or do. But it was marvelous because the Teacher finally looked like the king we knew he is. He was radiant, emitting such power that King Charles himself would bow had he seen him." Petra looks directly at me and says, "That's when I was convinced—convinced to follow the Teacher wherever and however he leads. He's truly the Christ, our anointed one."
I say nothing. After a long beat of silence, I stand up and throw a bucket of water on Petra's fire. Then I stalk away into the night.
find the Teacher on his knees. He's deep in prayer on the bank of a nearby river. I turn sharply in another direction, but he calls out to me before I escape. "Can't sleep?" he says.
"No. Not tonight."
"Join me in me prayer, won't you?" I walk to where he's praying and kneel on the ground. The river flows calmly before us, and I try to let its beauty ease my anxiety. It doesn't work. The Teacher says, "At a river like this, the Baptist anointed me."
"Were you his student?"
"I went to him and was baptized for the forgiveness of sin, as our religion requires."
"What sin did you have, Teacher? If there were ever a righteous man, it is you. You condemn no one, not even the greatest of sinners."
"The Son of Man came to offer himself for the sins o
f many," he says. "We're all brothers and sisters, Deacon. It was good for the Baptist to cleanse me in the water, for I've come to be the firstborn of a new creation. I've come to lead us back to God."
I nod and pretend I understand him then change the subject. "You looked troubled today. Are you tired from the travel? I know the crowds have made it difficult for you to rest."
The Teacher grins. "You can see I'm troubled?"
"Only Miles smiles more than you. But today...you didn't look right."
"Miles." The Teacher grins again. "He's a happy man, isn't he?"
"He's a good man."
The Teacher nods, looks at the river, and allows his grin to disappear into its waters. "My friend is dead," he says.
"Who?"
"The Baptist, my cousin and mentor; the governor had him executed. My father died when I was young. The Baptist took it upon himself to make a man of me. He prepared the way for my ministry and for me. I owed him everything."
"I'm...sorry for your loss." We sit in silence and listen to the flowing river, the trickle of water running across the rocks in the shallows. An owl, high in the trees above, hoots softly. "My parents recently passed," I tell him. "I share in your grief."
The Teacher reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "Thank you."
"What happened to the Baptist?" I ask. "Why was he in prison?"
"The American governor of the South, who's in cahoots with the Kingdom, had him arrested."
"His crime?"
"Telling the truth. The Baptist was put in chains for nothing more than acting as a genuine prophet of the one true God. There was no crime. The governor is supposed to be a man who follows the one true God, but he stole his brother's wife and took her in marriage. The Baptist informed him this was unlawful and spoke publicly about the sin of this action. But the governor is a prideful man and didn't want to hear it. So he arrested the Baptist. His new wife was looking for an excuse to do away with him ever since."
Centurion: Mark's Gospel as a Thriller Page 11