Take This Cup

by Bodie

  It was mid-afternoon when Mama brought me in to the back room. Everything smelled of clean woolen fabric, fresh paint, and newly sanded wood. The shelves were stocked with fabrics made famous by the weavers of my family. I felt proud.

  Mama opened the chest and, with a wave of her hand, motioned for me to come and see. “Nehemiah, these are the very best prayer shawls and kittels I ever made on my loom. Ever in my life. Sometimes something extraordinary happens, you know. When you pray or sing or create or just live, and God pours his love through us into something. So every year from our far mountains, from the place where Eden once was, I sent something special I had made to my sister for safekeeping. That is why these were saved from the fire that took everything. God saved them for this night, you see. These were never offered for sale. How could I sell such things? But I thought I saved them for special occasions in our own family. Like your bar mitzvah, or your wedding someday. Everything here. Ready for the most holy moments in our lives. Or one day, when perhaps I might have a grandchild of my own. And here . . .” She held up a man-sized kittel, the white robe worn by a bridegroom for his wedding. Later the robe he wore at his wedding would become the garment a man wore for his burial.

  But that night, I knew Mama thought only of the wedding feast of the Messiah, not his death and burial. “So, Nehemiah, what do you think? For Jesus, the bridegroom of Israel?”

  The light glistened white as snow on the fabric. The detail on the border was like a grapevine and clusters of grapes. “He will like that one, yes. I think so, Mama.”

  I tried not to think of the use of the kittel as burial clothes. It seemed too ominous, considering what Jesus had said about his death.

  “Yes, Mama. I remember how you sang when you made this one. And this too.” I wondered if she had something special for me.

  She retrieved a smaller white kittel and held it up for me to see. “I made this one for your bar mitzvah. Also grapevines. See? And Kiddush cups all around. I did not know what was about to happen. I just thought it was right for my son, Nehemiah, named after the cupbearer. You see? You should wear it tonight, I think.”

  I accepted it, excited, fearful I might make some mistake, and thankful I had lived to see this day. Did she see the nervousness in my eyes?

  I focused on the exquisite prayer shawls. Running my fingers over the fabric, I traced the blue thread of the fringes. I remembered my mother patiently knotting one strand after another by the lamplight in our camp.

  Removing the stack, she laid them out on a bench. “And all of these—they’re the special ones. I want you to take them upstairs and put one at the seat of each of the disciples . . . and one for Jesus, as our gift.”

  I knew that Joseph of Arimathea had given Jesus one of the special prayer shawls Mama had made, and Jesus wore it often. But my mother’s heart was so eager to give something extra. Her face beamed like a hopeful little girl’s as she asked me to help her choose. I embraced her, telling her there never was a woman like her, so talented and so kind.

  Together, we selected the most beautiful tallith for Jesus to wear. It was the one she had named “Joseph’s Coat of Many Colors.”

  “Of course,” I said, certain the Holy Spirit had guided my mother’s hands in the weaving and her heart in the naming.

  The twelve shawls selected for the disciples were all different but of equal beauty and intricacy. But there was one gift that troubled me deeply—the twelfth tallith meant for Judas Iscariot.

  I carried the precious gifts to the upper room and laid them at each of the seats. I only prayed that I was wrong about Judas . . . that somehow he would prove to be a true friend of the Lord.

  She came up to inspect the room. As she stood before the painting of Eden, her eyes welled. “Eden. Like this house must be reborn. Beauty for ashes. Out of the ashes of my childhood, now the Lord has blessed me with this honor. Yes. Beauty for ashes in every life. My son as the cupbearer. My house rebuilt. Jesus coming here tonight for the first supper. I am blessed to have prepared it for him. What more could any woman ask?” She kissed my forehead. “I’m proud of you, Nehemiah. You have come a long way and suffered much to come to this night. Now go and wash and put on your wedding garment. The bridegroom of Israel is on his way.”

  While I washed and changed into my new clothes, Mama took her place at the loom again and began to sing at the window. I smoothed the fabric of my kittel and studied my reflection in the bronze mirror. I looked very grown-up.

  The sun was almost down when I carried Joseph’s silver chalice from the rented house, through the shop, and up the stairs of our restored home. The lamps and candles were already lit. Matza bread, wine from the vineyard of Lazarus, and all the ritual elements of the Passover meal were in place.

  As the service progressed, Mama would carry the steaming platters of the feast to serve the guests.

  Only the cup had yet to be placed in Jesus’ hands, and all would be fulfilled.

  I was alone in the upper room. The sense of holiness was heavy, a tangible weight of anticipation in the atmosphere. Through the window the buildings of the Temple were bathed in golden sunlight.

  With a glance toward the painting of the great wounded hart, I unwrapped the chalice and held it up to the light. The golden light of Jerusalem reflected in the polished silver.

  I was ready for my task as cupbearer to the King!

  My teacher had taught me the meaning of every blessing that would be recited over the wine in Joseph’s cup. This night, Jesus would bless and drink the four traditional cups offered at Passover from the chalice. Each cup of wine represented God’s plan of redemption for Israel and for all of mankind through the Messiah.

  Suddenly my mother burst into song with the rhythm of her loom. I knew then that Jesus and his disciples had turned the corner and were coming up the street!

  Peering out the window, I saw sunlight glint on the lettering of the sign above the door and read the words HOUSE OF PRAYER.

  My mother sang as the loom boomed like a drum:

  “He is pure,

  he is unique,

  he is powerful,

  he is wise,

  he is King.”

  In my white robe, I stood at attention behind Jesus’ seat, Joseph’s chalice in my hands. My heart pounded with excitement as I heard the door open.

  My mother continued with great joy:

  “He is awesome,

  he is Redeemer!

  He is righteous!”

  I tried to remember all the rituals of the Passover cup I had been taught. I stammered as I rehearsed what I had learned about the chalice of the Messiah. Would I be worthy when the moment came? Would I remember to say and do what I was supposed to do?

  Mama’s lilting voice added:

  “Take this cup,

  the cup of sanctification.

  Take this cup.

  I will bring you out of bondage.

  Take this cup.

  I will deliver you.

  Take this cup.

  I have redeemed you!”

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I realized the moment I had longed for was at last upon me. The ancient silver chalice, which had held so much suffering and pain, was polished like new inside and out. Jesus would soon stretch out his hands to take the cup, drink from it, and then offer it back for all to drink who came to his table.

  Everything fled from my mind as I heard the bell above the door, and Jesus entered the House of Prayer.

  Mama announced his arrival in song.

  “He is the Omnipotent God!

  Rebuild! God, rebuild your house soon!”

  I heard Jesus greet my family downstairs: “Shalom! Shalom! Thank you for taking me in. Well done, good and faithful friends.”

  And then . . . I heard his footsteps on the stairs!

  My mother sang,

  “He is holy.

  He is compassionate.

  He is all righteous!

  Oh, God,

  rebuild your h
ouse soon!”

  Chapter 36

  I was only nine that evening as I sat on the stairs leading to the upper room where Jesus ate with his disciples. Judas, the betrayer, stood and stumbled out, almost tripping over me as he fled from the light into the darkness.

  After the door slammed, I heard Jesus speak the words we later learned by heart.

  Some believe he was addressing his followers, but I am certain Jesus spoke the first words directly to his Father.

  The eyes of the Son raised heavenward and fixed on a throne, a holy altar, on mighty, outstretched hands that had governed galaxies and worlds, and ordained kingdoms and the lives of men and angels. “Blessed are you, O Lord, King of the universe who created this fruit of the vine I offer to you.”

  Jesus reached higher, stretching upward, until the chalice penetrated heaven. “Take this cup.” He spoke with tenderness to his loving Father.

  All time stood still in that moment. There was no time, no day or night, only eternity. The walls and ceiling of the chamber dissolved, and suddenly I saw the faces of all who had lived before and multitudes who would live in years to come. They gathered with us around the table, waiting eagerly to drink from the silver cup Jesus offered.

  All who called on the Name of Jesus were brought together in that moment, in that place forever and ever.

  Jesus offered the cup to all. “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it anew with you in my Father’s kingdom.”1

  The chalice floated from hand to hand, and the precious contents were shared by all—first by Jesus’ closest friends and then passed along.

  I reached eagerly for it and looked deeply into the red wine. Again I saw my own reflection in the mirror of liquid. I was no longer a boy, but a man grown strong and courageous. I raised the cup to my lips and whispered, “Amen.” I tasted the wine, closed my eyes, and smiled.

  I found myself watching the flocks on a distant mountain illuminated by a golden light. The Great White Hart stood beside me. Eden restored. Not of this earth, I knew.

  Not of this time.

  I passed the chalice to another. I did not know who took it from my hand.

  I heard Jesus’ mother begin to sing,

  “I love the LORD, for he heard my voice;

  he heard my cry for mercy.

  Because he turned his ear to me,

  I will call on him as long as I live.”2

  All of us lining the stairs and those who supped in the room below joined in Mary’s song.

  “For you, LORD, have delivered me from death,

  my eyes from tears,

  my feet from stumbling,

  that I may walk before the LORD

  in the land of the living.

  What shall I return to the LORD

  for all his goodness to me?

  I will lift up the cup of salvation

  and call upon the name of the LORD.”3

  When all in the house had tasted from it, the empty cup returned to me. I held it close to my heart as if embracing an old friend. We had traveled many miles together to this holy moment and to this room where past and future became one eternal present.

  Was I still to be cupbearer to the King? I peered over the top step. Tears misted my eyes as Jesus stood and wrapped himself in his seamless robe. He held me gently in his gaze for a long moment and nodded.

  I wrapped the cup in my cloak.

  “Come,” he said, “follow me. The moment is at hand. We will go now to the Mount of Olives and pray.”

  Thus the first part of my journey came to an end.

  But, in truth, it was only the beginning.

  Notes

  Part One

  1. Psalm 42:1, adapted from NIV

  Chapter 1

  1. Psalm 42:1, adapted from NIV

  2. See Matthew 24:27.

  Chapter 2

  1. Psalm 23:1–2 ESV

  2. Psalm 23:3 ESV

  3. Psalm 23:4 ESV

  Chapter 3

  1. Numbers 24:17 ESV

  2. Isaiah 7:14 ESV

  Chapter 6

  1. Esther 7:2

  2. Read the story in Genesis chapters 37 and 39 through 45.

  Chapter 8

  1. Luke 2:35, adapted from NIV

  2. Deuteronomy 6:4

  Part Two

  1. Psalm 91:1, 13

  Chapter 9

  1. Psalm 91:13

  2. Psalm 91:1

  3. Psalm 50:15

  4. Psalm 72:13

  5. Proverbs 20:13

  6. Isaiah 55:1

  Chapter 13

  1. Psalm 42:1, adapted from NIV

  2. See Genesis 50:20.

  Chapter 16

  1. Genesis 12:1 KJV

  2. Isaiah 40:26 KJV

  3. Isaiah 40:31 KJV

  Chapter 18

  1. Malachi 1:6, adapted from ESV

  Chapter 19

  1. Isaiah 49:6 ESV

  Chapter 22

  1. Isaiah 61:1

  2. Isaiah 53:5

  Chapter 23

  1. Matthew 12:39 ESV

  Part Three

  1. John 12:35–36

  Chapter 26

  1. Luke 16:19–31, adapted from multiple versions

  2. Jeremiah 1:4–8, adapted from NIV

  3. Exodus 3:5

  Chapter 27

  1. Matthew 18:6–7, adapted from multiple versions

  2. See Matthew 18:21–22.

  3. Luke 17:6

  Chapter 28

  1. See Luke 17:11–19.

  2. See Psalm 91:11.

  3. Luke 17:20–21, adapted from NIV and NKJV

  4. Luke 17:22–36, adapted from NIV

  5. Psalm 91:3–4, adapted from NIV

  Chapter 29

  1. Luke 18:9–14, adapted from NIV and NKJV

  2. See Luke 18:16–17.

  3. Luke 18:18–30, adapted from NKJV

  4. Luke 18:31–33, adapted from NIV

  5. Psalm 75:8, adapted from NIV and NKJV

  6. Isaiah 51:22 ESV

  7. Isaiah 53:2 NKJV

  8. Isaiah 53:5 NKJV

  9. Isaiah 53:6, 10 NKJV

  10. Isaiah 53:12 NKJV

  Chapter 31

  1. Psalm 105:1–2

  2. Psalm 105:8–10

  3. Matthew 21:13 NKJV

  Chapter 32

  1. Matthew 21:16, adapted from NIV

  2. Isaiah 53:1

  3. John 12:40

  Chapter 33

  1. Read the story in Matthew 21:33–44.

  2. Psalm 118:22–23, as quoted by Jesus in Matthew 21:42

  3. Read the story in John 12:25–36.

  Chapter 34

  1. See the prophecy in Hosea 11:1.

  2. Genesis 3:17–18

  3. Matthew 23:23–24, adapted from NIV

  4. Matthew 23:25–26, adapted from NIV

  5. Matthew 23:27–28, adapted from NIV

  6. Matthew 23:29–36, adapted from NIV

  7. Matthew 23:37–39, adapted from NIV

  8. Matthew 24:2, adapted from NIV

  9. Read the story in Matthew 24:3–14.

  10. Matthew 24:29–31, 33–43, adapted from NIV

  11. Matthew 25:31–40, adapted from NIV

  12. Matthew 26:1–2, adapted from NIV

  Chapter 36

  1. Matthew 26:27–29

  2. Psalm 116:1–2

  3. Psalm 116:8–9, 12–13

  Authors’ Note

  Jesus clearly believed in the power of stories. He told parables—stories—to stretch the minds and transform the hearts of his listeners. We, too, believe in the life-changing power of stories, and that’s why we’re passionate about writing fiction.

  In every work of our fiction, there is truth, based on research, and there is imagination, based on our minds and perspectives. We weren’t here on this earth as Jesus walked among th
e people, but through the verses of Scripture and our imagination, we have portrayed to the best of our ability what he might have said and the way in which he might have said it. Take This Cup is how we imagine the events might have happened for young Nehemiah and his family, for Joseph of Arimathea, for the Sparrows of Jerusalem, for the boy Hallelujah, and for all the other characters in this story whose lives, bodies, and hearts were transformed by Jesus. It also traces the path of the legend of the Holy Grail and how we imagine the cup might have passed through the hands of ordinary people, such as Nehemiah, changing their hearts and life paths.

  There are many legends about Joseph of Arimathea, the wealthy Jewish man who asked for permission to bury Jesus’ body properly after his death. It is said he used the Holy Grail—the cup that Jesus used during the Last Supper—to collect Jesus’ blood while he was being crucified. Then, afterward, it is said that Joseph traveled to England, bringing the cup with him. Which of the legends are true, and which are just stories? None of us is likely to know until we enter the realm of heaven, where the desires of our hearts will be met and our questions answered.

  But can lives, bodies, and hearts truly be transformed today while we are here on earth? With Jesus, anything is possible! Through Take This Cup, may the Messiah come alive to you . . . in more brilliance than ever before.

  Bodie & Brock Thoene

  About the Authors

  BODIE and BROCK THOENE (pronounced Tay-nee) have written over sixty-five works of historical fiction. That these best sellers have sold more than thirty-five million copies and won eight ECPA Gold Medallion Awards affirms what millions of readers have already discovered—that the Thoenes are not only master stylists but experts at capturing readers’ minds and hearts.

  In their timeless classic series about Israel (The Zion Chronicles, The Zion Covenant, The Zion Legacy, The Zion Diaries), the Thoenes’ love for both story and research shines. With The Shiloh Legacy and Shiloh Autumn (poignant portrayals of the American Depression), The Galway Chronicles (dramatic stories of the 1840s famine in Ireland), and the Legends of the West (gripping tales of adventure and danger in a land without law), the Thoenes have made their mark in modern history. In the A.D. Chronicles, they stepped seamlessly into the world of Jerusalem and Rome, in the days when Yeshua walked the earth. Now, in the Jerusalem Chronicles, the Thoenes continue that journey through the most crucial events in the life of Yeshua on earth.