VI
A half dozen or so of the crowd followed after the two men to see for themselves what would come of this strange occurrence, but the rest stayed with Jesus. Perhaps, like Simeon, they wanted to remain there to protect him if something developed.
The Pool of Siloam was normally about a ten-minute walk south of the Temple Mount. Leading a blind man, it would take somewhat longer. A full half hour passed, and nothing happened. Still no one left. Jesus stood quietly talking with Peter and the Twelve. Everyone seemed content simply to wait patiently.
Finally, Livia could bear it no longer. She had to ask the question that was on everyone’s mind. “Why the mud and spittle on his eyes?” she asked her companions. “Have you ever seen him do that before?”
Simeon shook his head.
Miriam’s head came up slowly as a thought flashed into her mind. “In the ‘pouring out’ ceremony, the waters of the Pool of Siloam represent the Spirit of God.”
Livia’s eyes widened. Simeon looked at his wife in surprise.
“The man’s eyes are covered with the dust of the earth. Now he goes to Siloam to wash that away with God’s spirit.”
Simeon began to nod, watching Yehuda out of the corner of his eye. He would have gladly given a hundred shekels to know what was going on in his friend’s mind, but Yehuda’s face was impassive. He didn’t react to Miriam’s suggestion at all. They fell silent again, waiting to see what would happen.
Finally, they heard a commotion behind them, and the crowd turned. Across the courtyard, weaving in and out of the crowds, a man was running toward them. As he got closer, he cried out, waving his arms. “I see! I see!”
Stunned, the crowd fell back, opening a path for him. People began murmuring and pointing. It was the blind man, and he was trotting along unassisted by anyone. The front of his tunic was dark, obviously wet and muddy. Several paces behind him, his companion appeared, trying to keep up.
As one, the crowd turned back to see what Jesus would do. Then a disappointed cry went up. Jesus was gone. When everyone had turned to watch the return of the man, Jesus had quietly left. Peter and the others had gone as well.
The man who had spent his life in darkness and begging for his livelihood, stopped, looking around. “Where is the man who touched my eyes?”
“He’s gone,” someone said. “He was here just a moment ago, but he’s gone.”
The man’s shoulders slumped in dejection, then immediately straightened again. He turned to the crowd, searching their faces eagerly, like a man coming off a long fast and finally seeing a table filled with food. “I see you!” he said in wonder. “I can see you.”
Miriam was blinking rapidly, trying to clear her eyes. She felt someone beside her and turned to see Livia, tears streaming down her cheeks. They held each other joyfully.
Simeon looked at Yehuda. His friend was staring at the man, looking dazed. Simeon touched his longtime friend on the shoulder. “Well, Yehuda,” he said slowly, “now you have seen for yourself what Jesus can do. And what are you going to do with that?”
Chapter 14
Hear, ye deaf; and look, ye blind, that ye may see.
—Isaiah 42:18
I
Jerusalem, in the chambers of the Sanhedrin on the Temple Mount 14 October, a.d. 32
“We shall now hear from the Father of the House of Judgment.”
Caiaphas sat down, and Mordechai ben Uzziel stood. “Father of the House of Judgment” was a ponderous title, but what it really meant was that he was the second in authority to the high priest, the vice-president of the Great Council, as it were. Fortunately, Caiaphas, who was often a doddering old fool but loved the posturing he could do as head of the council, knew this night was too much for him.
Mordechai looked slowly around the council, seated in a double row that formed a half circle around him. “Brethren, I need not tell you that we face a grave crisis. The fact that we are meeting a second time within a few hours, and that during a high festival, is evidence enough of that. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
There were nods and a few murmurs. Not all seventy members of the council had been found, but there were fifty or more, enough for the council to proceed. Mordechai waited for a moment, but no one said anything. That was a miracle in itself. Normally this group was so independent and refractory that one could barely say “Good evening” without someone taking exception to it.
“First,” Mordechai said, “before we get to the critical issue at hand, I have an item of information. As you have probably heard, thievery in the areas around the gates of the city has increased of late, especially during this last week. We have had several complaints.”
In reality, there had been a few reports of petty theft, but nothing out of the ordinary, especially during a large festival such as this. But word of these had been played up, in keeping with Mordechai’s instructions, so he was not surprised to see several nod at his announcement.
“Therefore—and this information is for your ears only and is not to be repeated—starting at dawn tomorrow, we have asked the temple guards to secrete themselves in various places around the main gates into the city. We shall see how many of these thieves we can catch with their hands in our purses.”
Caleb the Pharisee raised a hand. Mordechai acknowledged him with a flick of his hand.
“How many will that leave for the Temple Mount? There will still be a lot of people here.”
“Only half a dozen will remain on the Mount.” Which was actually six more than Mordechai was really going to leave there.
Another man, one of Mordechai’s fellow Sadducees, rose slowly, frowning. “And what if this Jesus shows up again? There could be trouble. Half a dozen won’t be enough.”
Menachem of Bethphage leaped up. “The guards haven’t been able to find Jesus yet. We think he has been frightened off. I move that we support our esteemed leader’s suggestion.”
Mordechai went on, pleased to again hear numerous murmurs of assent. He gave them a crafty smile. “If this charlatan does try to return, well, he will have to enter through one of the gates now, won’t he. It should be a simple matter to detain him for examination.”
The group laughed shortly, and Menachem and the other man sat down again. As they did so, Mordechai was momentarily startled. There were always a few people standing behind the council members. Generally they were trusted assistants or other support staff. Now among them Mordechai saw a face that looked familiar. It was one of the men standing behind Azariah and Caleb. It was . . . He thought hard. He had seen him before, standing as he was now, behind the head of the Pharisaical party. He was assisting the leadership of the Pharisees. One of those whom Azariah had taken under his wing to groom for a future seat on the council. Mordechai started to turn away, still somewhat troubled. That was not all. There was something more. . . .
He stiffened as it came to him. The man’s name was Aaron. He was brother-in-law to David ben Joseph of Capernaum. He felt a hot flash of anger. If his report was correct, this was the man who had actually performed the marriage of his daughter to Simeon ben David.
Azariah half rose. “Yes, yes,” he snapped, jerking Mordechai out of his thoughts. “Our concern here tonight is not temple guards. There are far more serious problems to deal with. Let’s get on with it.”
Mordechai gave Aaron one last look. He knew he couldn’t hold the marriage performance against this man. Simeon was his nephew. It would be expected of him. Nevertheless, this one would bear watching.
Mordechai forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. Though Azariah was his usual irritating self, his sneering comment had deflected any further questions about why Mordechai was moving the guards off the Temple Mount. So Mordechai nodded. “My esteemed colleague is right, of course,” he said unctuously. “We have a more critical matter to deal with.”
Just then there was the sound of footsteps. Mordechai straightened and turned. It was one of servants of the council. Before Mordechai
could ask, he pointed back in the direction from which he had just come. “We’ve got him, sire.”
“Excellent. Bring him in.” This was what he had been waiting for, the primary reason the council had been reconvened and the reason Mordechai had been stalling for time.
Every head turned as four temple guards appeared, marching a middle-aged man with graying hair between them.
Mordechai indicated with a wave of his hand where he wanted him, and the guards brought the man forward. Then they stepped back out of the circle, taking up their station behind the second row of council members.
Mordechai took the man’s measure quickly, fighting not to let contempt show on his face. The man’s tunic was dusty and soiled. His sandals were worn, with one strap broken, and his feet were nearly black with dirt. Yet the Sadducee couldn’t help but feel a deep uneasiness as he looked the man. He had recognized him instantly, of course. It was the blind beggar, just as reported. Mordechai had seen this man countless times around the temple courts. He felt his stomach lurch a little, as can happen when one looks into an open wound he hadn’t expected to see. Where before the man’s eyes had been half closed, hiding sightless orbs beneath the lids, now they were fully open. The man was looking around with interest, studying the faces around him, looking up in wonder at the massive pillars of the Royal Portico. The eyes were clear and showed obvious intelligence. What had happened here?
A low buzz broke out as the council leaned forward. “Quiet!” Mordechai said sharply. Then, as his command was obeyed, he turned to face the man. “State your name.”
“I am Asa the Beggar.”
“The one who supposedly was blind until today?”
The man gave him an odd look. “Supposedly?” he said slowly. His hands came up, the fingers almost touching his eyes. “I see, where before I was blind. If that is ‘supposedly,’ then yes, I am he.”
Mordechai winced. “Supposedly” had slipped out without thinking. He motioned to the beggar. “Stand forth and answer some questions.”
The man took a step forward, looking nervous.
“You say your eyes have been opened. How was this done?”
“A man that is called Jesus made clay with his hands and anointed mine eyes. Then he said unto me, ‘Go to the Pool of Siloam, and wash.’ I went and washed, and as I did so, I received my sight.”
“Where is this man?” Mordechai demanded.
“I know not. When I returned to thank him, he was gone.”
That corresponded to what had already been reported to Mordechai. Azariah was on his feet again, and Mordechai nodded for him to speak. “This happened just a short time ago?” he asked the beggar.
The man turned to face his new interrogator. “An hour, perhaps two. No more.”
“And did you know that this, being a feast day, is a Sabbath day?”
“Of course, yes.”
“Tell us again. What did this man do to you?”
“He put clay upon my eyes, and I washed, and I do see.”
“And where did he get this clay?”
“He spit into some dirt on the pavement and then scooped it into his hands.”
Azariah turned and gave a sharp look at his colleagues. “So he made it himself?”
“Yes.”
“On the Sabbath day? This man mixed clay on Shabbat?”
The man nodded, sensing trouble. The Pharisees in the circle were all giving him dark looks. No righteous man would violate the strict laws of the Sabbath.
Caleb stood up beside his mentor. “Then this man cannot be of God, because he keeps not the Sabbath day.”
Joseph of Arimathea, also a Pharisee and seated three places down from Azariah, shot to his feet. “If Jesus is a sinner, as you say, how can he do such miracles?”
“Yes! Answer that!” someone else cried out. Mordechai’s brows lowered. In a moment, the council was in chaos. This was not good. Uproar in the council was not unusual, but this was an issue with tremendous impact. The man that stood before them was not a stranger to them. He had been a beggar on the Temple Mount for more years than anyone could remember. Everyone knew personally of his blindness, and now he stood before them, his eyes opened, turning to look at them when they spoke. If Mordechai felt shaken by this incontrovertible reality, it should be no surprise that the rest were as well.
He let the shouting and yelling run on for almost a full minute; then he let out a roar. “Enough! Sit down!”
It took a while, but gradually order returned. Then, before Mordechai could continue, Nicodemus spoke. “Asa the Beggar? What do you say of him, he that opened your eyes?”
There was not the slightest hesitation. “He is a prophet.”
Any control Mordechai had regained was instantly gone again. Men rose to their feet up and down the row, shouting at each other, shaking their fists in the air. Mordechai picked up a thick walking stick he kept beside his chair for this very purpose and brought it down with a resounding crack on the marble table. “I said enough!”
One by one, the council members sat down again, all except Azariah. Mordechai watched his longtime enemy, knowing that in this situation they were allies, strange as that might seem. “The leader of the Pharisees may speak,” he said.
“I am not sure this man was born blind, as he claims,” Azariah mused. “Perhaps—” His voice rose sharply as others started to protest. “Perhaps, like others who make their living by begging, this man has hidden his true abilities for all these years to elicit greater sympathy. Perhaps he just pretended to be blind.”
Asa the Beggar was dumbfounded.
“Ridiculous!” Joseph of Arimathea exclaimed. “What proof does our esteemed leader have for such an accusation?”
But it was Asa who answered. “My parents are here. Ask them.”
Mordechai’s eyes narrowed. His parents? He didn’t like the sound of that. But it was too late. “Bring them forth,” Nicodemus cried.
“Yes, let us hear of this matter from them,” said another.
Heads turned as two people stepped forward from behind the guards. They were both elderly. The woman’s hair was almost pure white. The man was balding, but what was left of his hair and beard were heavily streaked with gray. They moved forward until they stood by their son. The mother reached out and took his hand, clearly very much frightened by these proceedings.
There was no choice but to question them. Mordechai motioned to the old man and woman. “Is this your son?”
The father spoke. “It is.” It was barely heard.
“Speak up, man!” Mordechai barked. “Let the council hear you.”
“It is,” he said more loudly.
“And he has had problems with his eyesight in the past?”
To his surprise, it was the mother who spoke, and her voice was surprisingly strong. “Problems?” she said in amazement. “He came out of my womb blind.”
Another murmur swept the group, and Mordechai shot them a withering look. Then he looked at the woman. “Did he have any sight at all?”
“None. Not ever.”
He thought about asking additional questions about the man’s past, but decided against it. Every answer was only going to play into the hands of his opponents. He decided to take another tack. “If you say he was born blind, how then does he now see?”
For a moment, husband and wife looked at each other. They might be poor and unlearned, but Mordechai could tell they were not stupid. They knew that the body before which they stood was the most powerful in Jerusalem. Finally it was the mother who spoke. With an enigmatic shrug, she said, “All we know is that this is our son, and that he was born blind. By what means he now sees, we know not.”
“Or who opened his eyes,” the father added, “we know not that either. He is of age. Ask him. He can speak for himself.”
It was a crafty reply and somewhat of a rebuke. Parents could be made to speak for their children only if they were still under the legal age of adulthood. Asa the Beggar was long past that. Had
the parents heard that the Great Council had already decreed that anyone who believed in Jesus as the Messiah could face excommunication from the synagogue? Was that why they were sidestepping his questions?
The woman was watching Mordechai, careful, but no longer afraid. “He is of age,” she repeated. “Ask our son.”
Mordechai waved them away, wishing that Azariah hadn’t tried the ploy of discrediting the man. He motioned to the beggar. “You have clearly had something wonderful happen to you, and for that, we rejoice with you in your good fortune. But the man you say did this is a sinner. Give God the praise, and you are free to go.”
For a long moment, Asa didn’t answer. His face was thoughtful, his mouth pursed. Then his head came up. “Whether this man is a sinner or no, I cannot say. But one thing I know. Whereas I was blind, now I see.”
“How?” Azariah shouted. “How did he open your eyes?”
The beggar turned slowly to face the chief Pharisee. “I have told you already, and you would not hear. Why do you ask me again? Would you also be one of his disciples?”
If it hadn’t been so deadly serious, and such a devastating question, Mordechai would have laughed right out loud at the expression on Azariah’s face.
The old Pharisee straightened to his full height, his face like a thundercloud. “You may be a disciple of this Jesus, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God spake unto Moses, but as for this man, we know not from whence he is.”
Asa slowly shook his head. “Then this is a marvel. He has opened my eyes—eyes that have never before seen—but you say that you know not from whence he is.” He looked around at the encircling faces. “We know that God does not hear sinners. Only if a man be a worshiper of God and does his will, only then will God hear him. Since the world began it has not been heard that any man opened the eyes of one that was born blind. If this man were not of God, he could do nothing.”
That sent several men to their feet at once, but Azariah left his seat and strode forward, his jaw as hard as stone. “Would you, who was altogether born in sin, seek to teach us?” He spun around to look at Mordechai. “Away with this man. He reviles the Law of Moses and this council. Excommunicate him!”
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