by Roma Downey
“What are you doing here?” Thomas demands.
“I think you’re lost, sir,” adds John. A man of Nicodemus’ position would never normally associate with ordinary people.
Nicodemus appears tense, but then Jesus steps forward. “Welcome,” he says warmly.
The Temple elder is clearly troubled. He turns over thoughts and well-prepared speeches in his mind, unsure of where to begin explaining why he has come. But Jesus’ kind welcome disarms him, and he joins Jesus by the fire.
A full moon shines down through the olive grove. Nicodemus starts: “Rabbi, they say you can perform miracles. That you have seen the Kingdom of God.”
“You, too, can see the Kingdom of God,” Jesus tells him. “But you must be born again.”
“Born again. Whatever do you mean? How is that possible? Surely we cannot enter our mother’s womb a second time.”
“You must be reborn—though not in the flesh, but of water and spirit. That which is born of flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the spirit is spirit.”
A sudden wind blow Jesus’ hair across his face and rustles the tree branches. Nicodemus looks up into the branches. When he looks back he sees that Jesus is staring at him intently.
“The wind blows where it wishes,” he tells Nicodemus. “You hear its sound but don’t know where it comes from, or where it goes. So it is when the spirit enters you. Believe in me, Nicodemus, and you will have eternal life.”
“Believe in you?”
“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only son, that whoever believes in Him shall have eternal life.”
Nicodemus is torn. Could this be the Messiah? Or is this just another false messiah, a deluded individual claiming to be God?
Jesus knows his thoughts. “Everyone who does evil hates the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But those who live by the truth come into the light.”
Nicodemus feels a great peace wash over him. The moonlight shines brightly, and the breeze blows gently.
Judas skulks in the shadows, his head and face covered with a hood. He is on his way to meet Caiaphas, and he knows it would be disastrous if he were seen. At the entrance to Caiaphas’s palace Judas removes the hood so that the Temple guards will allow him to enter. Judas is led into Caiaphas’s inner sanctum, where he immediately feels ill at ease.
“One cannot deny that he has followers,” Caiaphas begins. “Especially among the less-educated elements of our society. But you, Judas… why, you intrigue me. You don’t seem to be one of them. Why follow this man?”
“I can’t explain Jesus to you. He has power. It’s hard to put into words.”
“Power to stir things up? Or, perhaps, to cause trouble?”
Judas looks embarrassed. “He says things… things that other people don’t even think, let alone speak.”
“Things like destroying the Temple?” Caiaphas reasons.
Judas is extremely uneasy. “Well, I suppose that if he was the Son of God—if—then he could truly destroy the Temple. But why would he abuse the House of God? Surely the true Messiah would seek to unify Israel, not divide it?”
“Maybe we should just talk, he and I? Straighten things out.”
“Jesus won’t come here.”
“Judas, your friend Jesus doesn’t know—he can’t possibly know—where all this will lead. If the Romans step in, the slaughter will be beyond belief. They have done it before, and they can do it again. It will be the end of our Temple—and possibly even our faith. Do you want that?”
Judas remains silent as the high priest continues his argument.
“It’s important that you help,” says Caiaphas. “A friend like you could lead him here—discreetly, of course.”
And now the high priest gazes straight into Judas’s eyes as he delivers his summation. “Help him, Judas. Help your friend. Save him from himself while you still can.”
“And if I do? What’s in it for me?”
If Caiaphas had any doubts that Judas’s initial approach was one of betrayal, those doubts have immediately vanished. Caiaphas reaches over to a table, on which rests a small purse. He holds up the purse.
Judas swallows hard. This is a moment of choice. “I’ll do it,” he says. He grabs the bag, and the silver coins clink inside.
Jesus returns to the Temple the next day, performing miracles and preaching to the crowds. The Jerusalem crowds swell. The people are liberated and energized by his words, and use the term Messiah almost casually, as if it is an acknowledged fact that Jesus is Lord. The groundswell of popular support, particularly during Passover, terrifies the high priests and the Temple guards. At all costs, they must avoid a riot. They know what Pilate would do, for this would be viewed as a revolution. But the religious authorities cannot stop Jesus. He’s too beloved, too charismatic, and too authentic for them to make a move against him.
The same cannot be said for Pontius Pilate. The fervor of the crowds at the Temple are unlike anything he’s ever seen, and he’s sure that the situation is about to explode into full-scale rebellion against Rome. He calls High Priest Caiaphas to his palace and makes it all quite clear: “Stop the disturbances or the Temple will be shut down. There will be no Passover.” The rage with which Pilate speaks the words is a reminder that he is more than just a random administrator, sent by Rome to govern the Jews. He is a soldier, a physical man of action who thinks nothing of spilling blood. His disdain for the Jews is complete, so giving the order to slaughter and crucify those guilty of dissent will be an easy decision for him to make. Pilate is the law in Israel. Caiaphas and the priests owe their power to him, and him alone.
Caiaphas heads straight to his priests, then addresses the subject that is on all their minds. “We can’t wait any longer. It’s almost Passover. We must arrest this troublemaker—this false messiah—tonight.”
“And how do we know he is a false messiah?” asks Nicodemus.
The room grows stone silent.
Caiaphas resists the urge to berate Nicodemus in front of the others. “Has he fulfilled any of the signs of a true messiah, as it is written in our laws?” he asks coolly.
Nicodemus remains quiet. There is no sense arguing with Caiaphas.
“Well, Nicodemus,” Caiaphas sputters. “Has he?”
Nicodemus holds his tongue. There’s so much that he wants to say, and so many points he would like to debate, but not in front of the Temple authorities.
“He must be tried by our laws,” Caiaphas demands. “Either we eliminate this one man, or the Romans will step in and destroy everything we have worked our entire lives for.”
Nicodemus can’t believe his ears. “Eliminate? Are you talking about executing this man?”
“What is the life of one deluded peasant when our people’s lives are at stake?” Caiaphas asks, as he walks off leaving a stunned Nicodemus alone in the huge chamber.
On the other side of Jerusalem, the streets are calm and the night air cool, as Peter and Judas approach a small home and knock on the door.
“What does he want us for?” asks Judas.
“He wants us to take supper,” Peter tells him.
“To eat together? Before Passover? That’s strange.”
The door opens. Mary Magdalene answers. She warmly welcomes them inside. “Everyone’s upstairs,” she tells them, motioning up with one arm. Mary remains downstairs as the disciples climb the stairs and enter a small room. A single long, low dining table fills the space. There is a place for each of the twelve disciples to sit.
“Rabbi,” Judas asks Jesus, who seems to have something weighing heavy on his mind. “Why do you want to share a meal today?”
Jesus looks at him, and then looks around the room at the other disciples, but does not reply.
The group prays together, asking that God bless their meal and their fellowship. The unleavened bread in front of them is hot from the oven, and its fresh-baked smell fills the room. After the prayer, the disciples relax, reclining on cushions, te
aring off pieces of bread. But before they can eat, Jesus stuns them with devastating news.
“This will be our last meal together,” he says calmly.
They all look at Jesus, thick pieces of bread clutched in their fingers.
“What about Passover?” Judas asks a little too quickly.
“I will be dead before Passover,” Jesus replies.
Stunned silence.
“What do you mean?” demands Peter.
Jesus doesn’t answer, but John leans forward and whispers in Peter’s ear. “Do you remember that discussion on the road to Jerusalem, where he prophesied that he would be betrayed, arrested, and condemned to death?”
John doesn’t need to continue. Peter remembers. The thought fills him with dread.
Peter has given up everything to follow Jesus, and he has been as loyal as any man can be. The thought that Jesus might die crushes Peter’s spirit and pierces his heart.
“Don’t worry,” Jesus commands them. “Trust in God. Trust in me, also. You already know the way to where I am going.”
Thomas is close to tears. “We don’t know where you are going. How can we know the way?”
“But Thomas, I am the way. I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
The disciples are not all educated men. Like Peter, most of them made their living with their hands, and attended school only long enough to learn the basics. So this concept that Jesus is introducing is hard for them to comprehend.
Then Jesus makes it even more confusing. He tears off a piece of bread and hands it to John. “This is my body,” he tells them all. “Take of it and eat.”
John has tears streaming own his cheeks, but he understands. He opens his mouth and Jesus places a morsel of the bread on his tongue.
Then Jesus raises a cup of wine. “This is my blood. I will shed my blood so that your sins may be forgiven.”
Bread and wine pass from hand to hand around the room. “Remember me by doing this. Soon I will go to be with the Father, but when you eat my bread and drink from my cup, you proclaim my Glory, and I am with you always.”
Judas tears off a piece of bread. Thoughts of his thirty pieces of silver dance through his mind. He is torn when he vaguely hears Jesus tell the disciples to “love one another, as I have loved you.” Judas snaps back to attention when Jesus shares a new morsel of information.
“But now I must tell you,” Jesus says, as the disciples pay close attention, “one of you here in this room will betray me.”
The wine is passed to Judas. He struggles to keep his composure, his eyes now riveted on Jesus.
“Who is it?” asks John. “Which one of us would do such a thing?”
Jesus tears off a piece of bread and passes it. “Whoever eats this will betray me.”
All the disciples stare, transfixed, as the piece of bread is passed to Judas. “It’s not me,” Judas protests, holding the bread in his hand, but not eating. “Surely, I would never betray you, Lord.”
Jesus’ eyes stay fixed on Judas. Looking straight back at him, Judas takes the bread. He eats it and shudders.
The disciples are all staring at him with a look of pure horror.
“Do it quickly,” Jesus commands Judas.
Terrified, Judas scrambles to his feet and makes for the door. A disgusted Peter chases after him, not sure whether he will beat Judas to within an inch of his life or merely follow to make sure that Judas does not carry out this betrayal.
But Jesus calls Peter back. “Peter, leave him. You will all fall away. Even you, Peter.”
“Never, Lord. I am loyal. I would never betray you.”
“Peter,” Jesus tells him, “before the cock crows at dawn you will have denied knowing me three times.”
Before Peter can protest, Jesus rises to his feet. “Come. Let us all leave.”
Caiaphas stands tall in his palace with anxious Nicodemus. The high priest is in a calm and deliberate mood, while Nicodemus is deeply troubled by what is about to happen. The law says that a man must be tried in the light of day, yet Caiaphas clearly wants to condemn Jesus this very night.
“Judas is bringing him to us before dawn,” says Caiaphas.
“But the law does not allow it,” insists Nicodemus. “A trial must be held in daylight!”
“And does our law allow riots? Does our law invite Romans to spill Jewish blood? You were there. You heard what Pilate said.”
Judas bursts into the room.
“Where is he?” Caiaphas asks.
“I don’t know.” Caiaphas fixes a stare on him, and he admits, “But I do know where he is going.”
Caiaphas points to Malchus. “Lead my servant to him.”
As Malchus leads Judas from the room, Nicodemus confronts Caiaphas. “Why would he come here?”
“Oh, he will come, Nicodemus. One way or another, he will stand before me tonight and account for his lies and acts of rebellion.”
Torchlight flickers on Judas’s face as Malchus, Caiaphas’s servant, and ten men armed with clubs and swords walk with Judas. Judas is in way over his head, but even if he had doubts, it’s far too late for that. The rogue disciple has no choice but to lead them to Jesus. He is on his way to Gethsemane.
“Where are we going?” asks Malchus.
“The garden,” Judas says glumly. “We’re going to the garden.”
The Garden of Gethsemane is deserted, save for Jesus and his disciples, who knows the time to leave his disciples, and this world, is fast approaching. He has spent the last hour in fervent prayer, but if the disciples are anxious about Jesus, they have an odd way of showing it—curled up on the ground, fast asleep.
“The spirit is willing, but the body is weak. Wake up,” Jesus demands after observing them for a moment. He needs them to bear witness. “Stay awake. The hour is at hand.”
Peter has tucked a long dagger into his belt. He double-checks to make sure it is there, making quiet plans to put it to good use should anyone attack Jesus.
Jesus leaves them, walking slowly back up the hill, once again to be alone with his Father. He knows Judas is almost here, leading a group of men who will arrest him by force. To endure what is about to take place, Jesus needs strength. As he arrives atop the hill, he immediately falls to his knees in prayer, presses his forehead into the dusty ground, clasps his hands together, and prays: “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from me. Yet not my will, but Yours be done.” He is beset by confusion because he is both human and divine. Sweat falls from his brow as if it were great drops of blood pooling in the dirt. He is wracked with human fear of the horrific beatings and great pain he will soon experience. He will die a human death and after three days, his body—the Temple—will be raised from the dead, so that all humankind can be saved from the penalty of death. The divine Jesus knows, but the human Jesus questions and fears. Those three days seem so far away. The earthly Jesus pleads for God to spare him the suffering and death, a form of temptation, similar to when Satan tempted him in the desert three years ago. Indeed, Satan now lurks in the garden, watching Jesus cling to the hope that his life might be spared.
Jesus hears the sound of an approaching mob. Their torches light the base of the hill, and their manic voices cut through the night. Jesus’ head is still bowed, as he now prays for the strength to carry out God’s plan. Sweat continues to fall. Now that God’s will is confirmed, resolve washes over him. Not peace, for what he is about to endure cannot bring the gentle calm of peace, just resolve. “Your will, Father, is mine.”
Jesus rises from his knees and stands alone in the grove of olive trees. His disciples suddenly burst over the rise and surround him protectively. A line of torches looms in the darkness, marching steadily toward Jesus.
“The time has come,” Jesus says to everyone and no one.
Judas steps forth and kneels down behind Jesus, as if in prayer. Then he leans in and kisses Jesus on the cheek.
Jesus does not feel anger or contempt. He tells Judas, “Judas, you betray the son
of man with a kiss?” Jesus understands that Judas’s role is necessary for God’s plan to be fulfilled.
A furious Peter draws his dagger and races toward Judas, who tries in vain to escape. Peter stabs at him, but misses. Malchus arrives with the Temple guard, and Peter swipes the knife, severing Malchus’ ear. “Run, Jesus,” Peter yells. “Run while you can!”
Malchus spins away in pain, blood flowing down the side of his face. His severed ear falls to the ground, as a circle of torches surrounds Jesus and the disciples. Jesus calmly lifts Malchus’ severed ear from the ground and reaches for his bloody head. Malchus flinches, as if Jesus means to hit him. He is caught off guard when Jesus defies his defensive stance and gently touches his wound. When Jesus pulls his hand away, Malchus is stunned and confused that the few moments of indescribable pain are like a momentary dream. His ear is healed.
“Take him away!” a guard shouts, as Malchus stands stunned, fingering his ear.
“Jesus,” moans Peter.
“It is my Father’s will, Peter. It must happen this way.”
A horrified Peter watches as Jesus is shoved forward, grasped on both arms by strong men and surrounded by a half-dozen others, hooded, and dragged off.
The terrified disciples run off into the night, knowing their lives are on the line, fearing they will soon be arrested. Only Peter ignores John’s pleas to come with him, and instead of running, he surreptitiously follows the line of torches down the hillside, desperate to see where Jesus is being taken.
Judas trails behind, as if in a trance, on the long walk in from the olive groves.
CHAPTER FOUR
DELIVERANCE
It is the middle of the night in Jerusalem. Jesus has been beaten. Blood pours from his broken nose. His body is bruised. His hands are bound and held by a guard. The Temple guards lead Jesus by a length of rope to Caiaphas, the high priest.