Thirty-Five

But it was not the end of the world. The sun shone anew and the ground stopped shaking--though a huge rock near the cross had split in two. Andrew walked over to look in awe at it, while he heard the centurion--Matthew's friend--say, "He really was the Son of God!" Andrew wanted to tell him, "How does it feel to have killed God Almighty?" but the man was so terribly shaken by what he had witnessed--and done--that he could not.

Some of the others, evidently Pharisees, now insolent because the world had not come to an end, approached the centurion and pointed to the sign above his head. "It should not say, 'The King of Judea,' it should say, 'He claimed to be the King of Judea.' The centurion said, "You will have to take that up with Pontius Pilate himself. I have simply obeyed his orders." They left.

Andrew himself was still panting from fright, and his legs were jelly. He had not really believed that the world was coming to an end, because Jesus had said he would return, but that did not save him from fearing that it was happening. In a way, he wished it had happened, because what sense would there be now in going on? Everyone saw Jesus hanging there, begging for a drink, naked in front of everyone. How could anyone who saw him thus--or even knew that he had been crucified--believe a word of what he said?

That would be the miracle of miracles! If the name of Jesus as a great religious leader survived this. Andrew had heard that a man named Socrates was put to death in Greece and was now revered as a great moral leader; but he had merely drunk a concoction of hemlock, which gradually paralyzed him. His was a dignified death, nothing like the monstrosity that Andrew had witnessed. He almost turned to look at the corpse on the cross, and as soon as he caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye, he turned away in agony. He had not been able to watch the actual torture either, and had placed himself at the very edge of the crowd, hating every one of them who made crude or insolent remarks, but not having the strength to remonstrate, let alone fight.

He had to leave here!--and go--where? Anywhere, anywhere out of sight of this abomination! How could they? But his legs could barely support him. He turned away, mentally apologizing to Jesus for deserting him, and shuffled off.

Somehow, he managed to find himself at the entrance to the room in which they had eaten the Last Supper. He was about to mount the stairs, wondering if he could make it to the top, and a man he knew named Joseph, from Arimathea, and Nicodemus, the member of the Sanhedrin who had come to Jesus during the night, approached him. "Do you think you could help us take Jesus down from the cross?" said Joseph. "I saw Pilate just now, and have his permission."

"We must hasten," said Nicodemus. "It grows late in the afternoon, and we must have him buried--at least after a fashion--before sundown."

"I would be glad to help, if I can," said Andrew, beginning to feel almost human, now that there was something useful to do. "But where could we bury him? How could we find a place before nightfall?"

"Oh, on that there is no problem. I have a tomb just a few steps away, and no one has ever been buried in it. It was to be mine and my wife's. We would be honored to have Jesus laid in it; and we can always buy another."

"Then we had best start." He shouldered a huge sack of unguents and other burial spices that Nicodemus was struggling to carry, and as quickly as they could, the three went back to the crosses. One or two other students came along, one with a ladder.

Since Andrew was by far the strongest, he mounted the ladder and with some difficulty pried the nail from Jesus's right hand. Immediately, the body leaned upon him, and he managed to get the arm over his shoulder and support the body while he climbed down. A bit of blood trickled from the hand that had the nail, but practically all had already left the body.

Leaving the body atilt, so to speak, he reset the ladder and mounted it on the other side, calling to the other students to free the feet when he was ready to set the other arm free. He worked at the nail, and then, as the body sagged over him, he got it under the shoulder again, and suddenly its full weight fell upon him, almost knocking him off the ladder.

The others then freed the feet, and Andrew carried the body down the few steps of the ladder to the ground. It was not as awkward as it might seem, because the body was already beginning to stiffen. The arms, for instance, were almost stiff, although the shoulders still swung freely.

When he got it down, others took it, two by the shoulders and two by the feet, and laid it on top of one half of the shroud, which they had placed on the ground; Jesus's head was in the middle, and his feet not quite at the end of the cloth. Nicodemus then put the spices on the body, and said, "We will do this thus, without washing the body, lest there be some of the lifeblood still there, which must be buried with it." A woman--Andrew thought it was Chusa's Joanna, objected, but Nicodemus was adamant. "Well then," she said, "when the Sabbath is over and he is not bleeding any longer, we will give him a decent wash and a real burial." Nicodemus began to object, but she cut him off with "Tell me not what you think! That is what will happen!"Andrew was grateful he did not have to get involved in that wrangle.

After Jesus's body was prepared as well as it could be (fortunately, the hands could be placed over his privates without any difficulty), the top half of the shroud, which did not have the body on it, was folded over the bottom half, and then the bottom half was brought up over the feet, and the top half folded over them. The cloth to cover the face was then placed around the head and tied over the shroud, and the body was ready to be transported to the tomb.

Andrew once again took the upper part of the body, since it would have been more difficult for two people to carry that end, wrapped as it was, and two people took the feet. They did not have far to walk, which was fortunate, because the sun was about to dip below the horizon, and placed the body on a slab in the tomb. A couple of the women came in and straightened out the cloths as neatly as they could, and then everyone left, with a last fond look at the Master they had revered. There were tears, but no wailing; everyone had a faint hope that this was only temporary--though no one quite dared to say as much, confronted with the stark reality of the death.

The men then rolled the heavy stone in front of the entrance to the tomb, and then, to their surprise, came two Roman soldiers, who sealed it and took up guard positions. When Matthew asked them what they were doing, they answered, in Latin. "Orders from the Governor. He wants to assure the high priest that no one will violate the tomb and steal the body."

They then made the short walk back to the upper room in silence.

And they waited.

Andrew went over and sat by Simon, who was writhing in agony. He put his arm over Simon's shoulder, and Simon said, "Three times! Just as he said! As soon as I had done it, a rooster crowed. Just as he said! How could I?"

"Fear not," said Andrew. "He knew--he knows--and he still loves you. You will see. He understands." Even Andrew understood, to some extent. Simon was not thinking what he was saying. Who was? They were all at their wits' end, with what was going on.

And Jesus, if--when--he returned, would confirm this. None of them had made a hero of himself, and Jesus had not expected it; he let them all--cowards that he knew them to be--run off while he confronted the Romans and the Judeans by himself.

Alone.

"Could you not stay awake one hour with me?"

But he did not reproach them, even the chosen three.

But how could they survive the three days?

But perhaps it would not be three days. The day he died, the day before this ghastly night, was one day, and then tonight and tomorrow were another day, and then after sundown tomorrow was the third day.

If they could only survive the Sabbath! Then he would return.

How absurd! With holes in his hands and feet? And that gash in his side that the soldier had given him to prove that he was indeed dead. "You see?" he had said, "The blood separates thus into red liquid and clear after death." At least, they did not have to break his bones and have his whole weight on his hands, choking him with it.

--Stop! Do not think on it!

And shortly afterward, they slept, because no one had energy to do anything else, and then woke and existed once again--forever and ever.

No one moved. Eating was unthinkable. They existed, and wished they did not.

There was a discussion, with Nicodemus, on whether they could go back to the tomb on the day after this Sabbath and anoint and bury him properly. Nicodemus began citing various authorities about the rules for burial, when Chusa's Joanna once again broke in with, "Unless there is some explicit provision in the Torah against it, then it most certainly will be done!" When Nicodemus demurred and said, "Madame, it is not so simple," she cut him off with, "Give me none of your 'interpretations!' If you cannot find it in the very words of Moses, then I will hear none of it! Has not the Master himself said that these 'interpretations' have made the Law a prison instead of the joy it was supposed to be? Tell me not what your 'interpreters' think!" Good for her! thought Andrew. Who would have thought she had it in her! She actually silenced them!

After an eternity, someone asked "Does anyone know what happened? Why he was condemned?" Nicodemus was about to speak, when John said, "I was there at the very beginning, when he was taken to the former High Priest Annas," and he told how Annas had tried to question him, and Jesus had replied that they should question those who heard him--"at which," said John, "the soldier slapped him and said, 'Is that the way you answer the High Priest?'" He paused, overcome at the memory.

"And then what?" said someone.

"Then he said," went on John, "If I have said something illegal, then bring a charge against me for it. But if what I said was legal, why did you slap me?"

"And what did the High Priest say?"

"He sent him on to Caiaphas, that year's High Priest, for trial. He told me that obviously, Jesus was going to say nothing, which was the most prudent course for him, and further questioning was useless."

"Did you go to the trial?"

"No, they would not let me in."

Nicodemus then described the trial, and how they could not find any consistent evidence against him, until Caiaphas issued his command and Jesus told them he would be coming in the clouds of heaven, "Which was a quotation from Ezekiel indicating that he was divine, and he had referred to himself as 'I AM' just before it, so they found him guilty."

Philip broke in, "Why did they not stone him then and there?"

Thomas said, "I can answer that. Because there would have been a riot. They had to have him executed by Rome for several reasons: first, not to make it appear that they were the ones who did it, or we brave, dauntless, intrepid followers of his would--"

"You ran off as fast as anyone else!" cried Philip.

"I am all too painfully aware of that," he replied. "They had nothing whatever to fear from us, as was so blatantly demonstrated; but they did not know that. Second, they had to discredit him; and stoning would make him look like one of the other prophets, and would certainly not endear them to the people who had heard him denounce them as the descendants of those who had stoned his predecessors. But crucifixion--well, you saw it, and you heard what people were saying. How could anyone respect a person who had been through that? How could anything he said carry any authority after everyone saw him hanging there, stark naked! Pleading for a drop of water! I cannot bear it!" He was merely echoing what everyone was thinking.

He paused and took a breath. "You see? It was brilliantly done. The whole council would be in favor of it, because he had shown to their faces that he was a blasphemer--"

"He was not a blasphemer! It was true! He is the Son of God! Still!" cried Philip.

"You believe that, and, in spite of what you think, so do I--I think--I know not. I know nothing now. Pleading for a drink! . . . But you see my point. If even we doubt it because we saw him there, how would anyone else ever be convinced?"

"He will come back! He said he would! How can you doubt?"

"Philip, Philip, do not--it is time to grow up, Philip. You will finish by giving these poor women hysterical illusions. His spirit will return, and when we recover from this ghastly time--if it is ever possible--we, at least, will be able to live by his precepts, and that will return him to life in us. That was what he meant. Did he not pray that we were to be one thing in him, just as he was one thing in the Father? And that he would be in us just as the Father was in him? That is the return to life that he promised. We need conjure up no mad visions of him walking about to compound the horror of what we have been through."

"It is not a mad vision! He will return. You are the ones who are mad! How can you say such things?"

"Philip, he himself said that he was leaving to send us his Spirit from the Father."

"And he said he would come back! He said it!"

"--I cannot bear more of this. I am leaving. --Fear not, Nicodemus, I will not go father than a Sabbath's walk. But I will go mad if I stay here another instant!"

Philip looked at him with a mixture of anger and disdain, but said nothing further. He left.

"I know where he is going," said Nathanael, shaking his head sadly. "I am tempted to go myself."

Ezra came and sat by him, a darker shadow in the dim room. Neither had anything to say.

And nothing happened.

Andrew now left his position by Simon, and went over to John, who was obviously reliving the night before and that unspeakable day. He sat beside him, and put his arm over his shoulders, gripping his shoulder as he used to do. John looked at him with surprise and gratitude. He had not acted thus in a long time, and clearly John had missed it.

The thought occurred to him that perhaps John felt more than just relieved, and he said to himself, "Nonsense! And if he does, what of it? He is not going to act as if it is anything but fond friendship--which is what it is!" He remembered how Jesus had told John not to be afraid to love anyone, but not to be alone with those who attracted him. He was certainly not alone here--if indeed he was attracted in that way to Andrew. Without realizing what he was doing, he looked around the room for Judas, who had poisoned his mind, and realized for the first time that he was not there--of course. He hoped he was dead.

He saw Matthew sitting by Mary. After a while, he had a look almost of hope on his face as he looked at her--and she suddenly realized that he loved her! She looked away, and made some general remark or other, as if musing, and Matthew took it as a gentle rejection; you could see the despair fill his face. He made a remark himself, and they sat, silent.

Finally, they all slept again, because there was nothing else to do.

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