The Last Days of Jesus

by Bill O'Reilly

  Jesus, still bound, is led away. An urgent call goes out through Jerusalem. The high religious court of the Sanhedrin must assemble immediately.

  * * *

  Jesus cannot see. The night is dark, and the blindfold covering his eyes shuts out even the minimal light of the small warming fires.

  But he can hear extremely well, and the words directed at him are clearly meant to break his spirit. “Prophesy,” a temple guard calls out scornfully. Jesus is staggered by another hard punch. “Who hit you?” the guard mocks.

  Fists and kicks come from all sides. There is no escape and no respite.

  “Who hit you?” the guards call out again and again, landing more blows. “Who hit you?”

  The beatings go on for hours, until the temple guards become too tired to continue their savage game.

  By the time Jesus is led into Annas’s home to confront the Sanhedrin, he is bloodied and bruised. His face is swollen. Exhaustion and weakness caused by loss of blood make it difficult for him to stand, let alone form the coherent arguments that might save him.

  Yet once again, the bound and beaten Jesus must rise before his accusers and argue for his life.

  The law requires that a person arrested must be taken to the temple courts. But not Jesus. He stands in Annas’s family home before as many of the seventy-one members of the Sanhedrin as could be collected. No longer blindfolded, Jesus sees the mosaic floors and the fashionable paintings hanging from the walls.

  Despite the late hour, news of Jesus’s arrest has made its way around Jerusalem. A small crowd now gathers in the courtyard, warming themselves by the fire pits. A second group stands outside, waiting for any news at the palace’s entry gates. Two of the disciples have had second thoughts about abandoning Jesus and have braved arrest to be here. They stand among a number of men loyal to Caiaphas.

  Jesus watches as, one by one, Caiaphas’s priests are called to testify against him. They stand before the Sanhedrin and brazenly lie about Jesus, spinning fictional stories about what he has said and done. The Sanhedrin listens closely, waiting for the one accusation that might allow them to pass the death sentence.

  Throughout the process, Jesus says nothing.

  Then comes the accusation for which the Sanhedrin is waiting. “This fellow,” swear two men loyal to Caiaphas, “said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’”

  Caiaphas has been sitting as he presides over the illegal court. But now he suddenly rises and advances toward Jesus. To his utter fury, Jesus does not contest this allegation.

  “Are you not going to answer?” Caiaphas demands with indignation. “What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?”

  Jesus remains silent. He can see the question forming on Caiaphas’s lips. It is the query to which everyone in the room wants an answer. Indeed, it is the one question hundreds of thousands here in Jerusalem also want answered. But even as Jesus anticipates what Caiaphas is about to ask next, he also realizes that there is no proper response. His death is imminent, no matter what he says.

  “I charge you under oath,” fumes Caiaphas, “by the living God: tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”

  Silence. Outside, the first birds of morning are stirring and the conversations of passersby can be heard. But in this public room where Caiaphas usually socializes and privately conducts official temple business, none of them utter so much as a syllable as they anxiously await Jesus’s decision—will he finally speak?

  Jesus does answer: “If I tell you, you will not believe me, and if I asked you, you would not answer. But from now on, the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the mighty God.”

  “Are you then the Son of God?” the priests demand.

  “I am,” he tells them.

  Then Jesus looks straight at Caiaphas: “And you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.”

  “He has spoken blasphemy,” the high priest tells the Sanhedrin. “Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?”

  Religious law says that each member of the Sanhedrin must cast a vote when passing sentence. But now there is no vote. The verdict is passed by a simple consensus, although voices of dissent come from Nicodemus and from a wealthy Sadducee named Joseph of Arimathea.

  The sun is rising. Jesus has been convicted of blasphemy and sentenced to death. The next step is to convince Pontius Pilate to order his Roman executioners to do the deed.

  CHAPTER 25

  HEROD JUDGES JESUS

  FRIDAY, APRIL 6, AD 30 JERUSALEM

  Across Jerusalem in the Antonia Fortress, the dozen men who make up the Roman death squads sit down to ientaculum, their big meal of the day. They will most likely not be able to get back to the barracks for the light midday prandium, so they enjoy their large portion of porridge. It is often served with cheese and honey to make it even more filling and to provide more energy for the hard labor to come. There is no fruit in season right now, but there is bread, and jugs of weak beer and red wine are spread out on the long communal table.

  There are a few condemned men already in the stone dungeons waiting to be crucified. In time, they will be taken into the courtyard for whipping—or verberatio, as is it known by the Romans. Low scourging posts are permanently positioned there for this task. Affixed to the top of each post is a metal ring. Each condemned man will be brought out with his hands tied. The executioners will strip him of his clothing and then force him to his knees before binding his hands over his head to the metal ring.

  Model of the Temple Mount as it may have looked in AD 66. Towers mark the four corners of the Antonia Fortress. [The Bridgeman Art Library]

  The professional killers now casually eating their morning meal will lash the convicts until they are barely alive. Yet as horrific as the process of lashing might be, it is just the start of the agony. For verberatio is a mere prelude to crucifixion.

  The soldiers finish their porridge and push back from the table. Time to go to work.

  * * *

  The condemned Jesus is marched to the palace of Pontius Pilate. The sound of his sandals, and those of Caiaphas, other high priests of the Sanhedrin, and temple guards who surround him, echo off the cobblestones. It is still early morning, and Jerusalem is just waking up.

  Caiaphas demands an immediate audience with Pilate. But since the high priest cannot enter a Gentile residence so close to Passover, he requests that Pilate come down to the gate. It is a gross violation of their formal relationship, but Caiaphas hopes Pilate will understand.

  It takes a while to get word to Pilate and for the prefect to dress and make his way to the gate. He cannot be pleased to be faced with the sight of temple guards, lavishly dressed priests, and a prisoner clearly in an advanced state of physical suffering.

  “What charges are you bringing against this man?” Pilate asks gruffly.

  Caiaphas has been dreading this moment. For while he wants the Romans to kill Jesus, the charge of blasphemy is a Jewish offense. Rome could not care less about it. And Pilate, with his intolerance for the Jews, is not the sort to risk his career by allowing Jewish law to dictate whom he executes.

  Roman soldiers with shields and spear. Hand-colored German print; no date. [North Wind Picture Library]

  “If he were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you,” Caiaphas replies, avoiding the question.

  Pilate is not easily swayed. “Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.”

  “But we have no right to execute anyone,” Caiaphas responds.

  “I find no basis for a charge against this man,” Pilate replies.

  Another of the priests speaks up. “He stirs up the people all over Judea by his teaching. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here.”

  “He’s a Galilean?” Pilate demands. In this simple question, he sees a way out of this mess. The Sanhedrin is clear
ly luring him into a political trap. But if Jesus is a Galilean, this matter is better suited for Herod Antipas. Galilee is the tetrarch’s jurisdiction, and Antipas is staying in a palace just a few blocks away.

  Pilate refuses to accept custody of Jesus. He dismisses the entire gathering and orders the prisoner to be bound over to Antipas. Once again, Jesus is marched through the early dawn streets of upper Jerusalem. There is no sign of the peasant pilgrims from Galilee or any of the other poorer class of Jews, for they have no reason to be wandering through this wealthy neighborhood at such an early hour. Slaves can be seen sweeping the porches of the masters’ homes, while inside the wealthy take their morning meal.

  But if Pilate thinks he has escaped from Caiaphas’s snare, he is wrong. For soon the entire temple group, including Jesus, returns. Herod Antipas was most delighted to finally meet Jesus and spent a short time evaluating him. The tetrarch even requested a miracle for his own personal amusement.

  Antipas has no fear of Caiaphas or the high priests, for they have no power over him. So even as they launched volley after volley of accusation against Jesus, hoping to swing the tetrarch over to their side, Antipas refused to listen. Getting pulled into a power struggle between the temple and Rome would be most unwise. Besides, he is haunted by the death of John the Baptist. The last thing Antipas wants is the blood of another preacher on his hands.

  Even though Jesus refused to perform a miracle, Antipas sees no reason to condemn him to death. He let his soldiers have their fun, allowing them to taunt Jesus and ridicule him by questioning his royalty before placing an old military mantle on the prisoner’s shoulders. It is purple, the color of kings.

  CHAPTER 26

  PILATE JUDGES JESUS

  FRIDAY, APRIL 6, AD 30 JERUSALEM

  Now, once again, Pilate stands at his palace gates, debating what to do about Jesus. He is running out of options. Clearly, he cannot order the Jews to release the man, for that would be interfering in their religious law—and Emperor Tiberius has made it quite clear that Roman governors cannot do this.

  Still, he doesn’t have to accept the prisoner. He could order that Jesus be sent over to the Antonia Fortress, there to be held until after Passover—perhaps long after Passover, when Pilate has already left town. Above all, Pontius Pilate does not want trouble. So he finally sends Caiaphas on his way and reluctantly accepts custody of Jesus.

  The fate of Jesus is now in the hands of Rome.

  * * *

  Pontius Pilate is curious. “Are you the king of the Jews?” he asks Jesus. The governor is seated on a throne of judgment, looking down upon an open-air courtyard paved with flagstones. A small audience watches.

  Pilate has chosen this location for many reasons. It is near where his small personal garrison is housed. This courtyard is not actually in the palace, but adjacent to it. Its unique architecture allows Pilate to address his subjects from an elevated position, while also providing him a private door to the palace and through which prisoners like Jesus can be led out and tried, then quietly walked back to the prison cells.

  Another advantage to the location is that since it’s not actually inside the residence, Jews are permitted to enter on the eve of Passover. Temple priests and Caiaphas’s disciples are present, carefully monitoring the proceedings for their leader. They are there to ensure that the sentence passed by Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin is carried out.

  “Is that your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?” Jesus asks in return.

  “Am I a Jew?” Pilate asks. “It was your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?”

  “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest. But my kingdom is from another place.”

  “You are a king, then!” says an amused Pilate. This is good news for the governor, for by declaring himself to be sovereign, Jesus has now committed a crime against Rome and the emperor. He is now a serious threat to public order. Whatever happens next can be justified.

  “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of the truth listens to me,” Jesus responds.

  “What is truth?” Pilate asks, now fascinated by Jesus.

  But if the Roman was expecting an answer to that question, he is disappointed, as Jesus stands mute.

  Pilate turns his attention from Jesus to the disciples of the Jewish temple who fill the courtyard. From his lofty perch, he can look down upon the group, measuring their reaction.

  It is customary for the Roman prefect to release a prisoner at the time of the Passover. Now Pilate finds a simple solution that might ease him out of this politically volatile situation: he will give the crowd a choice between releasing the peaceful Jesus or the horrific Barabbas, a well-known terrorist and murderer whose crimes truly deserve punishment.

  “Do you want me to release the king of the Jews?” Pilate asks the crowd.

  The response surprises him. For Pilate is not aware that the people he is speaking to have been ordered by the high priests and religious elders to make sure that Jesus is executed. It is not the Jewish pilgrims who want Jesus dead, nor most of the residents of Jerusalem. No, it is a small handful of men who enrich themselves through the temple. To them, a man who speaks the truth is far more dangerous than a mass murderer.

  “Give us Barabbas,” they shout back.

  CHAPTER 27

  LASHED

  FRIDAY, APRIL 6, AD 30 JERUSALEM

  While Jesus is being judged, the business of Passover begins in the temple courts. Despite their sleepless night, Caiaphas and the other priests cannot afford the luxury of a morning’s rest. Soon they walk across the bridge connecting the Upper City with the temple and prepare to go about their day. Already, long lines of pilgrims are forming, and the incessant bleating of lambs fills the air.

  The first sacrifices will take place at noon, in keeping with the law. Rows of priests are now assembling, some carrying silver bowls, and others gold. These are for catching the blood of the lamb as its throat is slit. The bowls are then carried to the altar, and the blood poured in sacrifice. A choir is gathering as well, along with men who will honor this great day with blasts from their silver trumpets.

  * * *

  Pontius Pilate does not care about what is happening inside the temple. The focus of his attention is the problem still standing before him. The Roman governor does not believe that executing such a popular figure as Jesus is a wise decision. Any unrest among the people following an execution of this sort will certainly be reported to Emperor Tiberius, and any fallout laid at Pilate’s feet.

  So rather than crucify Jesus, Pilate sentences him to lashing. He hopes that will appease the Sanhedrin. The Roman governor calls the high priests and church elders together to announce this decision. “You brought me this man as one who was inciting the people to rebellion. I have examined him in your presence and found no basis for your charges against him. Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us; as you can see, he has done nothing to deserve death. Therefore, I will punish him and release him.”

  Within moments, Jesus is stripped and led to the scourging pole.

  Jesus endures. As with any other victim, his hands are manacled to the metal ring atop the post, rendering him unable to move. Two legionnaires with whips stand behind him, one on either side. A third stands to one side. He holds an abacus, so that he might keep track of the numbers of blows that will be inflicted. The fourth member of the death squad stands by to replace any member who tires in his duties. Watching over all of them is the exactor mortis, the supervisor.

  Jesus feels the lash. There is no pause between the blows. The instant one executioner pulls back his whip, the other unfurls his lash across Jesus’s back. Even when the tendrils of leather and lead get tangled, the soldiers don’t stop. The most lashes a man can receive under the laws of Moses are “forty minus one,” but the Romans don’t always pay attention to Jewi
sh legalities. Pilate has told these men to lash Jesus, and now they do so until he is physically broken but not yet dead.

  That is the order. Scourge him, but under no circumstances is he to be killed.

  After the whipping, Jesus is unchained and helped to his feet. He has cried out in pain during his scourging, and he is losing a great deal of blood. The lash marks extend down to the backs of his calves. He is in the early stages of shock.

  The Roman death squad has clearly done its job. Striking at Jesus with surgical precision, they have beaten him almost to death. Pilate has made it clear that this will be the extent of their duties today. Yet they stand by for more, just in case.

  Jesus’s hands are still tied in front of him. He is slowly led back to the prison, where the Roman soldiers have their own brand of fun with this unique prisoner. Jesus does nothing as they drape that filthy purple cloak over his body, knowing it will soon stick to his wounds. The soldiers then make a pretend ruler’s scepter, or wand, from a reed and thrust it into Jesus’s hands, again mocking his claim to be king. Rather than take pity on a man who has just endured a scourging, the soldiers spit on him.

  Not content to leave the suffering man alone, the soldiers guarding Jesus now up the ante. In an atrocious display, they begin to cut pieces from a tall white shrub with rigid elliptical leaves, small green flowers, and inch-long curving thorns that grow closely together. The soldiers are more than willing to endure the prick of these sharp spikes as they weave several branches together to form a crown. When they are done, this wreath makes a perfect complement to the scepter and purple cloak. All hail the king.

  Jesus is led to Pontius Pilate. Bronze panel from the doors to Basilica Parrocchiale Santa Maria del Popolo in Rome, Italy. [Alamy]