Thirty-Four

During that interval, when nothing was happening, John decided to go to Jerusalem and see Daniel--and possibly even Annas--to find out what he could of what the people in authority thought of Jesus. It was just possible that at least some of them were favorably disposed, as presumably Nicodemus still was, and there might be enough to tip the scales in Jesus's favor. It could not hurt to find out. Besides, he might be able, when the crisis came, to gain entry and follow the trial, if there was one. There would have to be at least a show trial, or the mob would stone the Pharisees.

Hannah greeted him, and said, "The Master is in today. I can see if he can spare a few moments for you." John thanked her and waited in the sumptuous parlor. She returned and said, "He has an appointment shortly, but he told me, 'I could not forego the opportunity to see John again. Send him in, if only for a moment!'

So John was ushered into the room. He knelt on one knee, and was made to rise by Annas, who said, "Well! I understand you came back once before, and I missed you! It is fortunate that I was here this time--though I am sorry to say, our meeting must be very brief. Caiaphas--the new high priest, you know--has summoned us to decide on what we are to do with Jesus of Nazareth."

"Indeed?" said John. "I was curious myself about what you were thinking of doing."

"Oh yes?" He looked intently at John. "You would not be one of his followers, would you?"

"I am even an emissary of his."

"Oh, dear! Well, one hopes that you will not--that is, it is Jesus himself that we have a problem with, you understand."

"I am sorry to hear there is a problem. I am convinced that he is everything he claims to be."

"Of course, you would be. But you perhaps have not heard what we have heard about his claims. But let us not discuss such things, and let me merely say that I am delighted to see you, and it is still true that you are welcome any time you choose to come." There was a knock on the door. "But you see, I must go. It was a pleasure to see you, dear boy!" And he embraced John, saying, "Remember, welcome any time," and left him with Hannah.

"Would you like to see Daniel before you go?"

"That would be very nice, if it is possible."

"I am sure it will be. Daniel would be very angry if he knew you were here and he did not see you. One moment." And she took him back to the parlor, and very shortly afterward, Daniel entered.

"John!" he said, and came over and embraced him, as usual a little too long. It gave John a joy he would rather not have had, but which he wished he had more of. He waited, and Daniel finally let him go, rather pleased with himself at the length of the greeting.

"Are you still a follower of Jesus of Nazareth?" he asked.

"I was telling the Master that I am even one of what he calls his 'emissaries.'"

"Oh, my! That might cause--difficulties."

"Actually, that was what I came to find out, if I could."

"Well, let me put it thus: you would be prudent if you put distance between yourself and him."

"I thought as much. But I cannot, you know. I have been with him too long, and the more I see, the more convinced I am that he is exactly what he says he is, however fantastic it might seem."

"It seems more than fantastic, at least from what I have heard. It seems blasphemous--or next to it."

"I know. The only trouble is that he can prove it by what he does."

"Or what he appears to do. We heard that he--allegedly, you understand--brought a man to life who had been in the grave two weeks."

"Four days. I saw it."

"Indeed? You were there?"

"I was. It was a friend of his. We were in Peraea, and heard that he had died, and by the time we got there, he had been in the tomb four days. And he called him out. And he came, all wrapped up."

"A friend of his? I see."

"No, it is not what you suspect. He really had died."

"At least, as far as you knew."

"Well, I do not want to enter into disputations with you. I know how it must sound. All I can say is, it is consistent with what I know of him, and I have every reason to believe that it really happened."

"Which is just what I would expect of you, loyal as you are."

"Daniel, I am loyal, as I always have been, to the facts first and foremost."

"I know. That is one of the things that endears you to me. One of them. I notice also you still keep all your muscles, though you are not rowing a boat any more."

"That is another one of the things, I imagine. As it happens, I still do pushups and situps every other day."

"Ah. Well, whatever you do, keep it up. The results are--enviable."

"I think this has gone far enough, do not you?"

"Not unless you think so. But evidently you do." he sighed.

"But to get back to Jesus, you think things are reaching a crisis?"

"They already have done. The question--they are meeting on it at the moment, all the important people with Caiaphas, no less, are trying to decide what to do to get rid of Jesus without having a riot on our hands, or without having the Roman army crush us. It is a very delicate issue."

"When you say, 'get rid of Jesus,' you mean 'kill him.'"

"I am afraid so. He has gone too far. It is either kill him or allow the people to name him King. And the result of that is horrible to contemplate!"

"But why? Herod is King up north, and Rome has no problem."

"But Herod is a King that essentially Rome installed. Rome has no control over this man. And Rome will not have a King that it does not control."

"Well, I suspected that this was what was going on. And my opinion is that he is going to allow himself to be captured and killed. If he did not, you would be able to do nothing to him. When people try to seize him, even if he is in their grasp, he is suddenly not there. I have seen it countless times."

"They tell stories to that effect, but I have always believed that they are stories."

"They are not. I have seen it with my own eyes. And sometimes, he is suddenly beside one, conversing as if he had been doing so for quite a while. But he was not there a moment since. It is uncanny."

"It must be, if what you say is true."

"You know that he says that if he is taken and killed--and he says he will be--then he will come back to life on the third day afterwards."

"We have even heard that. Would you believe that we have planned to set a guard around his tomb, so that you people will be unable to steal his body and say that he has risen from the grave?"

"I believe that you will probably do that, but it will be totally useless."

"We are not unintelligent--at least they are, when their interest is concerned, and here it is a question of survival--and so I am inclined to doubt that he will be able to carry anything off."

"Unless he actually does come back to life."

"Yes, well."

"Come now, Daniel. That will be the acid test, will it not? You will have assured yourself that he is dead, and you will have sealed up the tomb, and put a secure guard on it. And if the tomb is empty, what will you do?"

"It will not be empty."

"As I say, it is the acid test. If it is, then what?"

"Then I might--I might--begin to believe in him."

"I can ask for no more. And, of course, if the tomb is not empty after three days, then my whole world will fall apart, and I know not what I will do. But it will be empty."

"Well, we must wait and see."

"Exactly."

"And if it is not empty, will you come to see me again?"

"I hope to see you again in any case."

"I mean--well, you know what I mean."

"If the tomb is not empty--I know not what I will do. I cannot say."

"Think on it. I would be very happy to see you."

"Well, but I had better go."

"Peace, my very good friend."

"Peace, Daniel." They embraced again, rather longer than before.

Again, John thought, "They say, 'peace, peace,' but there is no peace" as he left.

He had barely returned to the group, when Judith came running up, panting, "Master! Master!" Jesus came over, and she gasped, "Martha told me to tell you to co--come at once! She said that raising Lazarus was noth--nothing in comparison with this!"

What was this? Something more with Lazarus? Perhaps this was what Jesus had been referring to with Thomas.

Jesus put his hands on her shoulders as she tried desperately to breathe, and said in a calm voice, "I understand what is the matter. Be not distressed. You may tell them that my time has arrived, and that I will come to dinner there in two days, and that you should invite some friends of Lazarus, as you had planned. And you must assure them that there is no cause for concern."

"I do not understand. Invite? Planned?"

"They will know."

Judas, who had been listening as soon as he caught sight of Judith, said, "Are we all to accompany you, Master?" He seemed a bit nervous.

"The Twelve, I should think," said Jesus. They could not suffer an invasion of all of us." He looked over at Chusa's Joanna as he said this, and she reddened and fled when he caught her eye. So it had to have been she who had told Lazarus about Mary, and which doubtless had led somehow to his death. Evidently, his return to life was not something he rejoiced over--typical of Lazarus, John thought. He was probably more mortified over how he looked to the important people of Judea than he was happy about being alive again. He probably thought it a fate worse than death. So Jesus must have a new miracle in mind, one that could somehow convert Lazarus into a man of at least some sense.

Jesus said to Judith, "Tell them to be ready in two days. It is little enough time for them to prepare, but if I know Martha, it will suffice; and I think it not prudent to delay longer. Now go when you have caught your breath; they will be wanting news as soon as possible."

Judith did not wait, but ran off before she had fully recovered. David looked after her with a mixture of desire and contempt, and then looked, his eyes narrowed, over at Judas.

Ezra and Thomas met, and had a long, but obviously private, conversation. It had something to do with Judas, it seemed, since they looked surreptitiously at him, and Thomas reacted with extreme shock at one point. Something drastic had gone on.

And what would all this have to do with Thomas's father?

At any rate, shortly afterward, Jesus and the Twelve set off for Bethany, and for some reason did not collect a crowd as they traveled. Perhaps the people were busying themselves with preparing for the Passover, which was to take place in six days. Or perhaps when Jesus did not want to be accompanied, no one somehow noticed him and his followers.

As they arrived, a number of people from Jerusalem were already there, friends of Lazarus, talking with him and pointedly avoiding mention of the event that had happened, but simply making small talk, which Lazarus took almost no part in, merely giving one-word answers when he had to speak. He was obviously in the depths of despair--a fact which was as manifest and as ignored by everyone as his death and return to life--and was finding it a supreme effort behave with even minimal politeness. Fortunately, the people surrounding him were of the upper class in Jerusalem, and, given Lazarus' personality, he could not insult them by ignoring them or appearing too morose.

Martha, who was in the room, was looking with concern and pride at his effort. Mary, as usual, was not visible.

As soon as everyone saw the Twelve and Jesus, the atmosphere, if possible, grew even more tense. Though Martha and Zebediah (the name of the older man that had been at the tomb with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus) had made careful selection among the guests from Jerusalem to be certain that there was no one who would immediately rush out and denounce Jesus on sight, it was still common knowledge that his whereabouts was to be reported to the authorities as soon as he set foot in Judean territory, and there was always a danger that someone might do something untoward. But no one made a move. Martha had been most judicious.

Lazarus greeted Jesus politely--what else could he do?--but since Jesus was not high society, he looked at him with a loathing that made his position on resurrection perfectly clear, and nodded perfunctorily to the twelve Emissaries (to whom he had always paid scant attention in any case), and then turned back to one of his banking companions from the city, evidently resolved to act as if Jesus were not there, and letting Martha, who was responsible for this debacle, make the best of it she could. Martha's attitude indicated that what she wanted was for the Emissaries to be present for some reason, and she evidently had those from Jerusalem in order to prevent Lazarus from rushing away as he might well have done in other circumstances.

Fortunately, neither Jesus nor--what was more perilous--any of his Emissaries started any controversial conversation; and the others put a face on things whenever it was necessary for any in the two groups to mingle, which they did as little and as briefly as possible. There was a certain bemusement on both sides that the two groups would have been invited together; both thought it was a social blunder on Mary's part, who presumably had wanted to unite those who had come to the tomb with Lazarus' savior, not realizing that what had happened at the tomb was as forbidden as mentioning the name of the One who had effected the deed.

Mary had come in, rather shyly, around this time, and helped Martha to place the guests on the dining-couches , with those from Jerusalem lying at all the high places around the outside of the U of the table (the serving was done from inside)--to the left and right of Lazarus, who would, of course, as the master of the house, be at the center of the curve. Jesus and the Twelve were seated in the lowest places at the table, but given what Jesus had taught about such things, they were not in much of a position to complain.

At least Jesus was lying at the arm of the table in front of Lazarus (though it meant that he had to tip his head to look at him); it would have been a distinct insult if Lazarus had not been facing in his direction. John, fortunately, was in a position to have a good view of the head of the table.

Martha and Judith with the servants served the dinner; and again Mary absented herself. Matthew had tried to catch her eye earlier, but she had been very preoccupied with something-or-other, and left as soon as she decently could.

Martha had just taken in some dish to serve, when Mary, with a look of anguish and sorrow, rushed into the room, looked about as if distraught, and said, "Master! Forgive me!" and rushed to his feet, which, like everyone's, were hanging over the outside edge of the dining-couch on which he was lying. She broke the neck of a bottle of nard and poured it over them, kneeling and wiping them with her hair. At first, she made weeping noises, and then the tears became all too real. Everyone, Matthew especially, was paralyzed with shock. This was a reenactment, for some reason, of what they all knew had happened at the house of Simon the Pharisee in Magdala.

The scent of the perfume filled the whole room, as it must have done in Magdala, and there was total, stunned silence, except for her weeping, as he had been told there had been then. John could not make head or tail of it, especially the last part. Mary seemed genuinely remorseful about something-or-other.

"Why this waste?" came a scornful voice, shattering the stillness. It was Judas.

Mary froze and now there was not a sound at all. "Why was this perfume not sold?" he went on. "It would have brought three hundred denarii, and we could have given the money to the poor."

Jesus looked over at him, with a momentary flash of disdain, swiftly overcome. Then he said, in a gentle voice, "Let her alone. Why are you pestering her? She has done a me a great kindness." He looked down at her. "She is preparing me for my burial. You always have the poor with you; you will not always have me." Then he looked around the room. "Amen I tell you, whenever the good news about me is reported in the whole world, what she has done this day will be told in memory of her."

As he was speaking, there was a sudden stirring. Mary looked up, and everyone's eyes focused on Lazarus, his face ashen, rising from the table and rushing out of the room. Mary leaped up and ran after him. In the room, people began getting up and there was general consternation.

There was a movement to try to follow him, and then people began to think better of it, and a few blocked the door. And then, from the other room, suddenly there were women's screams and sounds of fighting, which went on for a considerable time. It sounded as if Judith had attacked Mary, of all things, and then Martha had joined in.

After what seemed an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, Lazarus' voice rose above the tumult. "Judith! Judith! Judith! Stop! Stop!"

Immediately, everything ceased. There was a dead silence both in the room where the fighting had been going on and in the dining room.

Lazarus' voice came again, too soft for words to be audible, and then there was the sound of Judith sobbing and muffled words, as if she were speaking into cloth.

After another, rather briefer silence, Lazarus spoke again and she answered, more distinctly now but still too faint to for anyone to understand what was being said. :Lazarus said something else, rather more at length, and then she replied, with something that sounded like, "Dear dear Lazarus, I did not dare!"

Judith? "Dear Lazarus?" Good heavens! Judith was in love with Lazarus! Of all people! But--miracle of miracles!--Lazarus seemed to reciprocate it, from the little they could hear. It certainly sounded like it. Incredible! It had taken this to bring Lazarus to his senses, and Jesus had done it! He had done it! He could indeed do anything!

--Well, at least somewhat more to his senses than he had been. To make Lazarus a rational individual would be to create a completely different person. And, to be sure, the Lazarus who emerged after a short interval was in some sense an entirely different person either from the one who had entered that room of mayhem or the one they had seen earlier in the day. But he was still recognizably Lazarus. He was secretly elated about something--obviously about loving Judith, and being loved by her! Incredible!--and announced to all that he was sorry to have disturbed the party, but that there had been a slight accident that he had been able to take care of ("Oh yes?" thought John), and now everything would be all right; that no one was really hurt, but that it was better, all things considered, for the women to remain in seclusion for the rest of the day--and, in short, he begged their pardon for suggesting that it might be well to put an end to the festivities.

They all pronounced that they understood perfectly, though but a few of them had anything like a suspicion of the truth--if it was the truth. What bewildered most of them was the contrast to what he had been just moments before. All, including Jesus and his Emissaries, left with a minimum of fuss, a few of the banking friends asking Lazarus when they would see him in Jerusalem, to which he replied, "Soon. Soon. Very soon, in fact." They seemed gratified with his response.

They went back to the camp at Ephraim, where Ezra came over, all eagerness to find out what happened. When Thomas told him, he laughed a great laugh, and said, "He certainly has a wonderful sense of humor, has he not, in addition to all his other qualities! Thomas, there is hope for you yet! There is hope for both of us!" John, who overheard, concurred.

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