The Last Days of Jesus

by Bill O'Reilly

  Prior to Caiaphas, high priests were puppets of Rome, easily replaced for acts of insubordination. But Caiaphas, a member of the Sadducee sect, has developed a simple and brilliant technique to remain in power: stay out of Rome’s business.

  Rome, in turn, usually stays out of the temple’s business.

  This lets Pilate keep his job and increases Caiaphas’s power.

  In fact, Pilate and Caiaphas are more alike than they are different. Pilate was born into the wealthy equestrian class of Romans, and Caiaphas was born into a centuries-long lineage of wealthy temple priests. Both men are middle aged and married. When Pilate is in Jerusalem, he lives a few hundred yards away from Caiaphas in a fancy Upper City palace. And they consider themselves devout men, though they worship far different deities.

  As Pilate enters the city, Jesus’s disciples are traveling to Jerusalem. They see this festival as the chance for Jesus to proclaim his divinity. In fact, they try to give him a piece of advice—something they’ve never done before. “Go to Judea,” they beg before setting out. “No one who wants to become a public figure acts in secret. Since you are doing these things, show yourself to the world.”

  “My time is not yet here,” Jesus answers. “For you any time will do. The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify that its works are evil. You go to the festival. I am not going up to this festival, because my time has not yet fully come.”

  When the religious leaders see the disciples enter the city without Jesus, they are immediately frustrated—once again, he appears to be getting the best of them. “Where is that man?” the Pharisees ask one another, studying the faces in the crowds filling the temple courts. “Where is that man?”

  Remaining interior courtyard of Pontius Pilate’s palace in Jerusalem. Contemporary photograph. [Shutterstock]

  Rumors about Jesus swirl as the festival begins. For days, speculation spreads through the city. No one has an answer about where Jesus is, not even his own disciples. Then, halfway through the eight-day festival, Jesus slips quietly into the temple courts. Within moments, pilgrims surround him, listening in amazement as he shares his insights about God.

  “Isn’t this the man they are trying to kill?” ask some in the crowd.

  “Have the authorities really concluded that he is the Messiah?” ask others.

  This idea is met with doubt because it is hard to imagine that the new king, the savior, would come from a backwater province like Galilee. Instead, he should be from Bethlehem, the city of David, as told by the prophets.

  Jesus teaches in the temple courts for the rest of the festival. “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life,” he tells the crowds. “I am going away,” Jesus adds. “Where I go you cannot come.”

  And soon after that, he leaves. As pilgrims travel back to their homes, whether in Egypt, Syria, Galilee, Greece, Gaul, or Rome, they talk about Jesus. Many now believe that he is indeed the Christ. Others are not sure, but they have heard his pronouncements that he was sent by God, and they desperately want to put their faith in him.

  For whether or not they believe that Jesus is the Christ, Jews everywhere long for the coming of a messiah. When that moment arrives, Rome will be defeated and their lives will be free of taxation and want. No longer will soldiers loyal to Rome be allowed to corral Jews like cattle, then stab and beat them until the gutters of their holy city are choked with Jewish blood. This hope is like a lifeline, giving them courage in the face of Rome’s unrelenting cruelty.

  Some pilgrims are waiting for a verbal pronouncement from Jesus: “I am the Christ.” Others are waiting for the fulfillment of the prophecy—the moment that Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey. Then and only then will they be sure that he is the one true Christ. “See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey,” the prophet Zechariah predicted five hundred years ago. “He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth.”

  * * *

  Pontius Pilate is now safely back in Caesarea, destined not to return to Jerusalem until April and the Passover celebration. Jesus has left Galilee. Witnesses say he is performing miracles once again. In one startling account from the town of Bethany, a man named Lazarus came back from the dead. He had died four days earlier and had already been laid in the tomb when Jesus ordered that the stone covering the entrance be rolled away. He called out to Lazarus, and the man walked out of the tomb.

  A model of the Hasmonean Palace in Jerusalem as it might have looked in AD 66. [The Bridgeman Art Library]

  “Here is this man performing many signs,” a Pharisee says. “If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.”

  Caiaphas agrees. “You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.”

  Nothing more needs to be said.

  * * *

  At the age of thirty-six, Jesus is clever enough to act out any prophecy. His knowledge of Scripture and understanding of faith are encyclopedic.

  The prophets have been very specific about the way that the king of the Jews would be born and live his life; they are just as clear about how he will die.

  He will be falsely accused of crimes he did not commit.

  He will be beaten.

  He will be spat upon.

  He will be stripped, and soldiers will throw dice for his clothing.

  He will be crucified, with nails driven through his hands and feet.

  And he will die during Passover.

  * * *

  Five months have passed. It is now approaching Passover. Pontius Pilate is in Jerusalem settled into Herod the Great’s palace. Herod Antipas arrives in the city and stays just a block away at the Hasmonean palace. At the same time, Caiaphas prepares for the biggest festival of the year at his palace home in the Upper City.

  Passover week is about to begin.

  The disciples begin the search for a donkey.

  Jesus of Nazareth has six days to live.

  BOOK III

  THE LAST WEEK DAY by DAY

  CHAPTER 17

  THE PASSOVER JOURNEY BEGINS

  FRIDAY/SATURDAY, MARCH 30/31, AD 30 BETHANY

  “We are going up to Jerusalem,” Jesus tells his disciples as they prepare to depart for Passover. “The Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will turn him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life.”

  But if those words disturb the disciples, they don’t show it. For theirs has been a journey of many months, rather than the mere days of most pilgrims. After the Feast of Tabernacles five months ago, Jesus and the disciples did not return to Galilee. Instead, they began a roundabout trip. First stop, the village of Ephraim, only fifteen miles north of Jerusalem. From there they traveled as a group away from Jerusalem, to the border of Samaria and Galilee. And then when it came time for Passover, they turned in the opposite direction and marched south along the River Jordan, joining the long caravans of pilgrims going to the holy city.

  The disciples now jockey for position during the walk to Jerusalem. James and John ask Jesus if they can be his principal assistants in the new regime, requesting that “one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.” Upon hearing this, the other ten are furious. They have followed Jesus as a group for more than two years, giving up their jobs and leaving their wives and whatever semblance of a normal life they had. All the disciples hope they will reap the glory that will come after the new Messiah overthrows the Romans. Peter is so sure that Jesus is going to use military might that he is making plans to purchase a sword.

  But Jesus has no plans to wage war and no plans to form a new government. Rathe
r than scold James and John, he calmly deflects their request. He then calls the disciples together, instructing them to focus on serving others rather than fighting for position. “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many,” he tells them.

  Once again, Jesus is predicting his death. And yet the disciples are so focused on the glorious moment when he will reveal that he is the Christ that they can’t hear that he is telling them he will soon die. There will be no overthrow of the Romans. There will be no new government.

  The disciples’ willful ignorance is understandable. Jesus often speaks in parables, and the excitement surrounding him is now phenomenal. The love and adoration being bestowed upon Jesus makes any talk of death unbelievable. The thick crowds of pilgrims treat Jesus like royalty, hanging on his every word and greeting him with enthusiastic awe. In the village of Jericho, two blind men call out to Jesus, referring to him as “Lord, Son of David”—a designation that could only be applied to the Christ. The disciples are encouraged when Jesus does nothing to rebuke the blind men.

  Jerusalem is just a forty-minute walk from the village of Bethany, where they stop for the night. They stay at the home of Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha. This will be their base throughout Passover week, and Jesus and the disciples plan to return here most nights for the promise of a hot meal and easy rest.

  Sabbath, the seventh day of the week, begins at sundown on Friday and continues through sundown on Saturday. The Jews call it Shabbat. It is a day of mandatory rest in the Jewish religion, commemorating the idea that after creating the universe, God rested. Jesus and the apostles spend the time quietly, preparing for the week to come.

  The serenity of Lazarus’s home provides Jesus and the disciples with relief from the road. Hospitality is a vital aspect of Jewish society, dating back to the days when the patriarch Abraham treated all guests as if they were angels in disguise, offering them lavish meals of veal, butter, bread, and milk. So it is that the spacious home of Lazarus, with its large courtyard and thick door to keep out intruders at night, is not just a refuge for Jesus and the disciples, but also a vibrant link to the roots of their Jewish faith.

  Stone statue of Martha, sister of Lazarus and Mary; carved in the 16th century, Church of St. Madeleine, Troyes, France. [The Bridgeman Art Library]

  Martha and Mary dote on Jesus, though in opposite ways. Martha, the older of the two, is constantly fussing over him. Mary, meanwhile, is enthralled. She sits at his feet and sometimes shows her respect by anointing them with perfumed oil. In her own way, each woman gives him comfort. They see to it that Jesus and the disciples remove their sandals and wash their feet upon returning each evening, so that any impurities or infections might be cleansed. A stepped pool in the basement offers Jesus a place to bathe and change into his other set of clothes. Martha and Mary will wash the dusty clothes. And of course, Jesus and the others will wash their hands before sitting down to eat.

  During Passover week, Martha and Mary serve two meals a day. Dinner is fresh bread, olive oil, soup, and sometimes beef or salted fish washed down with homemade wine. Breakfast features bread and fruit—though dried, instead of fresh, because melons and pomegranates are out of season. As Jesus learned on the road yesterday morning, the local fig and date orchards will not ripen for months to come.

  Even though Lazarus truly enjoys being with him, Jesus’s presence means much more than that. This is a man whom Lazarus trusts, reveres, and indeed, to whom he owes his very life.

  Vessel for ritual hand washing before eating, inscribed with the prayer said while washing. Made of brass with colored glass; no date. [The Bridgeman Art Library]

  CHAPTER 18

  THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRANCE INTO JERUSALEM

  SUNDAY, APRIL 1, AD 30 OUTSIDE JERUSALEM

  Jesus and his disciples set out along the dusty dirt road from Bethany that is clogged with Passover pilgrims eager to enter the walls of Jerusalem. The day is sunny, as it is so often this time of year. The travelers push past date palm plantations and small farming villages where fruit orchards, vineyards, and olive trees grow alongside irrigated fields of vegetables.

  Before they enter the gates of Jerusalem, the travelers stop for their ritual mikvah, or bath, to purify themselves. Anticipating the smell of roast lamb that will hang over Jerusalem as the Passover feasts are being cooked in ovens, the pilgrims count their money, worrying about how they will pay for that feast and the inevitable taxes they will incur in the city. Despite the sore feet and aching legs from walking mile after rugged mile, the magnetic pull of Jerusalem is transforming the travelers. Their thoughts are no longer set on their farms back home and the barley crop that must be harvested immediately upon their return, but on holiness and purity.

  Soon they will ascend the hill known as the Mount of Olives and look down upon Jerusalem in all its glory. The temple will gleam white and gold, and the mighty walls of the Temple Mount will astound them, as always. Its sheer magnificence will remind them that they have arrived at the center of Jewish life.

  As they near Jerusalem, Jesus selects two disciples and gives them a special task. “Go to the village ahead of you,” Jesus orders them, “and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them. If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”

  A mikvah, or ritual bath. This one is at the ruins of Herod the Great’s fortress at Masada. [Corbis]

  Later, just on the other side of Bethpage, the town where they found the donkey, the two disciples stand waiting. One holds the bridle of the donkey. A disciple removes his square cloak and lays it across the animal’s bare back as an improvised saddle. The other disciples remove their cloaks and lay them on the ground in an act of submission, forming a carpet on which the donkey can walk. Following this example, many of the pilgrims remove their own cloaks and lay them on the ground. Others gather palm fronds or snap branches off olive and cypress trees and wave them with delight.

  This is the sign everyone has been waiting for. This is the fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophecy. “Blessed is the king!” shouts a disciple.

  The people join in, exalting Jesus and crying out to him. “Hosanna,” they chant. “Hosanna in the highest.”

  Jesus rides on the donkey, and the people bow down.

  “O Lord, save us,” they implore, thankful that the Christ has finally come to rescue them. “O Lord, grant us success. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” The words of thanksgiving are from a psalm sung at Passover. This is the moment for which these simple peasants have waited so long. Of all the thousands of pilgrims who set out from Galilee, these are the lucky few who can tell their children and their children’s children that they witnessed the grand moment when Jesus the Christ rode triumphantly into Jerusalem.

  But not everyone bows down. A group of Pharisees has been waiting for Jesus, and they now look on with disgust. They call out to him, giving Jesus one last chance to avoid a charge of blasphemy. “Teacher,” they yell, “rebuke your disciples!”

  But Jesus refuses. “I tell you,” he informs the Pharisees, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

  Others who have heard that Jesus is near have run out from Jerusalem, spreading palm branches across his path. This is a traditional sign of triumph and glory.

  The Golden Gate leading from the Mount of Olives to the Temple Mount. It was blocked up by the Ottomans in 1530. [The Bridgeman Art Library]

  The donkey stops atop the Mount of Olives. Jesus takes it all in. Tents cover the hillside where poor Galileans camp during Passover. Jerusalem calls out to him from just across the small Kidron Valley, and the temple gleams in the midday sun. Throngs of pilgrims line the path winding down into the valley. The mud and limestone trail is remarkably steep, and Jesus will have to use great caution to guide the donkey downhill without getting thrown.

  This is his day. Jesus’s whole life has pointed to this momen
t when he will ride forth to stake his claim to the title “king of the Jews.”

  Suddenly, Jesus begins to weep. Perhaps it’s the thought of spending a last week with his good friends Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. Maybe he foresees the eventual destruction of this great city. Or perhaps Jesus looks on Jerusalem knowing that his own pageantry will be short-lived. For he has powerful enemies within the city walls.

  In his moment of triumph, Jesus is experiencing agony. He has long strategized about the words he will say at Passover and the effect they will have on his followers, both old and new. He knows that his claims of being a king will lead to his crucifixion. He will be sacrificed, just as surely as those countless Passover lambs. It is just a matter of when.

  It is time to go. As the hosannas rain down on all sides and the Pharisees look on from a place nearby with their usual veiled contempt, Jesus coaxes the donkey forward. Step by careful step, the two descend the Mount of Olives, cross the Kidron Valley through a tunnel of worshippers, and ride majestically up the hill into the great and golden city.

  Jesus is almost casual, dismounting from the donkey and walking straight up the great steps into the temple courts. He has not come here to teach, but to be a pilgrim just like any man from Galilee, observing the sights and smells and sounds of the temple during Passover week.

  Roman soldiers are posted throughout the Court of the Gentiles, and the temple guards no doubt take note of Jesus and the people who crowd around him. But none of them make a move to arrest Jesus. Apprehending such a beloved public figure might cause a riot. With Jews pouring into Jerusalem by the hundreds of thousands, even the smallest confrontation could quickly get out of hand. The soldiers and guards are armed, but their numbers are minuscule in comparison with the number of pilgrims. Anyone trying to take Jesus into custody could be overwhelmed by the peasant hordes. Anger about the injustice of arresting such a peaceful man would blend with their simmering rage about heavy taxation.