Thirty-Six

Somehow, thought John, all would be well. Somehow. We could not go where he was going now, but he would come back and take us to where he really was--with the Father, one supposes--and then every tear would somehow be wiped away. John could not believe it, but it had to be true. It had to be true. The tomb would be empty--and then what would Daniel say?

He would find some sophism to explain it. He would think they had stolen Jesus's body.

But perhaps he would have a doubt, which would nag him because of John, and John would have been the instrument of his salvation. And perhaps he and Daniel would meet--with Ezra, and perhaps even a transformed Judas, however loathsome that seemed at the moment--and they would all rejoice together forever, having all that they desired from their illicit attraction, but purified of all evil.

It was too good to be true!

But look what the price was! "Master, we are not worth it!" John cried in his thoughts, while Jesus kept talking.

John's mind was in turmoil. If Jesus wanted them to remember what he was saying, he would have to repeat it after he came back to life; no one, John was sure, could follow him.

But toward the end of the dinner, he held up one of the pieces of unleavened bread, and said, "Take this and eat it. This is my body, which will be given up for you." He handed pieces to each of them. So that was what it was. This was, "Unless you eat the meat of my body, you will not have life in you"! He must have transformed himself into this piece of bread, just as in his infinity, he had transformed himself into a man. John thought, He told Philip, "anyone who is looking at me is seeing the Father," and now as I look at this piece of bread, I am seeing Jesus in his bodily reality. How can anyone believe it?

But it was not a question of whether anyone can believe it, it was whether one chose to believe it. If God can look like a man, then a man can look like--and taste like--a piece of bread. Either that, or nothing whatever makes sense.

As he was puzzling over this, the dinner came to an end, whereupon Jesus took a cup of wine, thanked the Father, held it up and said, "Take this--all of you (he looked over at Thomas, who seemed frightened)--and drink from it. This is the cup of my blood, the blood ratifying the new Treaty, which will be shed for you and for many, many others for the forgiveness of sins."

So his death was to forgive the sins of mankind. John looked at Thomas as the cup came in his direction. His hand trembled as he received it, and he looked over at Jesus, who nodded. Would it be--or taste like--water again? He took a mouthful, and, John knew, for he had already drunk from it, it tasted exactly like wine. As he handed the cup on, he looked again at Jesus as if to ask if he should swallow it. Jesus nodded again. It would do no damage, John thought, as he saw Thomas struggle with the sensation--and then quickly modified this into thinking, "no permanent damage." Much that was horrible was going to come, and who knew? But all would be well.

He hoped.

"Come now; let us go out."

As they walked through the darkness, Jesus was saying, "What I really am is a vine, and my Father is the farmer. He cuts off every branch in me that does not bear fruit--" Was he referring to Judas?

"--back every one that does bear fruit, so that it will bear more. And you have already been pruned by what I said to you. Stay in me, and let me stay in you. You cannot bear fruit unless you stay in me, any more than a branch can bear fruit if it does not stay on the vine."

Was Judas still on the vine, in spite of his betrayal, or not? Something in John hoped not, but he knew Jesus wished him to be on the vine, if he repented. Would he repent, or even think better of it beforehand? No, in that case, Jesus would not be speaking of leaving them.

"You did not choose me," Jesus was saying. "I chose you, and I have put you here for you to go on and bear fruit, and for your fruit to last! But I command you to love each other." Even Judas!

And then Jesus prayed for them, that they too would be one and the same thing as he was, just as he was one and the same thing as the Father. John realized that because of what he had eaten and drunk that night, he actually lived with the life of Jesus! Which was the life of God Almighty, the one whose name no one dared to pronounce! It was incredible!

But then, everything was incredible! Small wonder that Judas, who had built his life on reason, could not believe it! And Judas, he noted, had not eaten the "bread" that gave life. Jesus had waited until he was gone.

They arrived at the garden. As they went through the gate, Jesus told them to wait and try to sleep while he went over farther with John, big James and the Rock, where he prostrated himself on a large stone, and prayed, obviously in agony himself.

And John saw Jesus pleading with the Father, and begging the Father to take his cup from his lips. "But have your will be done, not mine!" He was not the Father, somehow, even if he was one and the same as the Father. John was completely confused.

And in his confusion, fell asleep. Jesus, in despair, came to them for comfort, and had to wake them up! John was devastated with shame.

And he went back praying again, and his face became bloody, somehow, as if his sweat were blood! He was writhing on the ground in agony--but there was some being there who was comforting him, a being John could somehow sense without seeing.

And he fell asleep again, and was wakened again. "The spirit is willing," said Jesus, "but the matter is weak." John could have choked himself. This time he would stay awake! It was the least he could do.

And he fell asleep.

Once again Jesus came back, but now he said in a voice of trembling with agony and total exhaustion, "Sleep, now, and try to rest." and then lifted his head as he heard a noise. "Rise, let us go forward. The traitor is here."

And through the gate came Judas with a contingent from the High Priest and some Roman soldiers, armed with torches, lanterns, clubs, and other weapons. Was that Hannah among them? He moved back into the shadows.

Judas then came up and kissed Jesus. Kissed him! Kissed him! Jesus made a reply in a low voice, and then stepped forward and said, "Who is it you are looking for?"

"Jesus of Nazareth," answered the soldier in charge.

"That is the one I AM," said Jesus, and the words "I AM" rang through the garden like the tolling of a huge bell, almost deafening everyone. The soldiers, along with Judas, stepped back, and fell prostrate in terror.

After a short while of dead silence, Jesus said again, "Who is it you are looking for?"

The attackers got to their feet, and the commander answered in a small, shaking voice, "Jesus of, ah, Nazareth."

"I told you that was the one I was," said Jesus. "And if I am the one you are looking for, then let these people go."

Then the Rock, who had for some unaccountable reason a sword, drew it and slashed at the head of one of the High Priest's slaves; but the slave dodged, and all he accomplished was to cut off his ear.

"Put your sword back in its sheath!" snapped Jesus, and the Rock, trembling, complied. "Am I not to drink the cup the Father has given me?"

"Allow me to do this much," he told the commander, and picked up the man's ear and reattached it. Everyone was dumbfounded, and simply stood there, while Jesus said, "If I am the one you want, then let these people go," and waved for his students to escape, and they all ran off, John among them. They had to go through the gate, which meant going through the contingent of soldiers and guards, but no one offered to stop them. John thought, "Then we are not to be crucified with him!" He did not know whether he was faint with joy at this, or faint with consternation that he could not follow his Master. But Jesus had to know it was beyond them, even with his help. He had said, "This is your hour, and the power of darkness" to the captors.

But John had not gone far before he stopped. "No!" he said to himself. "Let me follow them!" he now whispered, as he contingent went back across the Kidron brook. John kept in the shadows, and suddenly knew that they were going to the High Priest's palace. Of course they were; they would have to have a trial of sorts there before they could take Jesus to the Antonia fortress to see Pontius Pilate, who was the only one who could authorize a crucifixion. He took a short cut, and saw them enter while he was still a block away.

"Now what do we do?" said the Rock, who had appeared beside him. "I suspected they would take him here, but we cannot get in."

"I can," said John. "Perhaps you can also, if I say you are with me." He went up to the front door and knocked. Hannah opened it a crack. "Yes?"

"It is John, Hannah. Could I enter, please?"

"I know not, John. You see, there is--"

"I know. I think perhaps Annas will not object to my being here if he knows that I will not create a fuss--I will do nothing. I merely want to observe."

"I know not--I--well, I will ask him.

"And my friend also would like to enter, simply to observe. We will do nothing."

"That is more difficult still. Wait here, please, outside."

They waited for what seemed a considerable time, and finally she opened the door again. "The Master says that you may enter. But he wishes to see you in his room. Your friend may stay in the courtyard, but is to do nothing but observe. He wants you in his room to assure yourself that we are doing everything to be fair."

"I am very grateful. And he went in, with the Rock behind him. He pointed to the entrance to the courtyard, and followed Hannah into Annas's chambers (Caiaphas was now the actual high priest).

As he entered, Annas said, "I wondered if I would see you, dear boy, on this unfortunate night. You are not planning a rescue mission, are you?"

"No, Master. Our master has made it clear that he is willing to be captured. If you talk to the guard--or even to Hannah, who was there, I believe--it will be clear that if he was not willing, he would not be here."

"Well, that is another matter that we need not discuss. The fact is, he is here, and I asked to have him brought to me first, and I am happy that you are here to see that we are simply going to examine him, and if we find nothing against him, we will gladly let him go. We intend--at least I certainly intend, and I think I can speak for the present High Priest also--to be scrupulously fair."

"I am happy to hear that," said John, but added to himself, "at least to all appearances. He will not leave here a free man."

"But here he is," said Annas, as there was a knock on his door, which opened and Jesus entered, bound and with a guard of one of those John had seen in the past. The guard looked at John rather suspiciously, but said nothing. John moved to a corner of the room. Jesus also looked in his direction, but gave no sign that he recognized him.

"You are Jesus of Nazareth?" said Annas.

"I am."

"We have been hearing much about you that is disturbing, and we wished to find out if it is well-founded. Who or what, exactly, do you claim that you are, and what exactly is your teaching?"

"What I have said," answered Jesus, "has been public and to the world. I always taught in the synagogue and the Temple with Judeans all around me, and never said anything secret. Why question me? Find out what I said from the ones who heard what I told them. They know what it was."

"Is that the way you answer the High Priest?" said the guard with a slap on Jesus's face.

Jesus's bound hands went up to his cheek, as he turned to the guard, and said calmly, "If I said anything illegal, then bring a charge against me for it. But if what I said was legal, why did you slap me?"

"Take him to Caiaphas," said Annas. "It is obvious he has nothing to say to me." And the guard led him off.

Annas then turned to John. "I am sorry, dear boy. Of course, he regards us a the enemy, and realizes, I suppose, that the less he says, the better off he is. Clearly, he knows the position he is in; but what it means is that he will have to stand trial. I had a hope--a rather forlorn hope, I must admit--that perhaps we could settle matters ourselves, and I could let him go, if he agreed to leave Jerusalem for the next few days."

"I am sure, Master, that he would not agree to that."

"Yes, well, it seems clear that you are right. I would I could let you into the courtroom, but that is out of my hands. Only the Sanhedrin will be there."

"I understand."

"But you can wait in the courtyard, if you choose."

"I think I will do that, if you please. I will not trouble you further."

"I hope that perhaps I will see you again, on somewhat more auspicious terms. Peace."

"Peace," said John, and left, making his way down into the courtyard, which had a fire in the middle, since it was cold that night, though clear and lit brightly by the full moon, which was now directly overhead. There was a commotion as John came up. The Rock was saying, "I told you I have no idea of whom you are speaking. I swear I do not know that man, whoever he is!" just as a rooster began to crow loudly. He looked up in horror at what he had just said, and suddenly burst into tears, and rushed toward the door. Hannah, shocked, opened it, and he dashed out, crying.

John came up to her, and she said, "Did you know that he was a follower of this Jesus of Nazareth?"

"I did," said John. "I am one myself--fear not. The Master knows."

"And he does not--" she let the sentence hang.

"No. He said he wished me to observe his examination of Jesus, to show that he was being fair."

"And was he?"

"I could find no real fault with it, I suppose. But of course I cannot enter the courtroom for the actual trial, which is why I am out here."

"Then I suppose if he knows, we can allow you to stay."

"Thank you. He said I could also."

"Then that settles it. But that one. I asked him if he was a follower, and he looked frightened, and denied it. But it seemed to me that I had seen him there, as did one or two others, and so we asked him again. And he denied it once more; but then, somebody told me that he was the one who cut the ear off Shealtiel, and--did you?--Were you there?

"I was, and I saw it."

"I thought I would faint. And then again when he put it back on! It almost would make someone believe in him. Especially after that "I AM" that he said. It was incredible!"

"Well, multiply that by a thousand, and you will understand why I am his follower. I hope they do nothing to him; he is a danger to no one."

"Oh, John, that is not what they think! Not at all! I fear it looks very bad for him."

"I am convinced of it myself. As is he. But you saw that if he did not want to be captured, you would not have been able to take him. He told you to let us all go, and we all went right by all the soldiers and everyone, and no one made a move to stop us. If he had not wished to be captured, he would simply not have been there, all on a sudden. I have seen it happen many, many times."

"Indeed? They told me about something of that sort, but I did not believe it."

"They doubtless told you many things that were true, but were incredible, and so not believed. But you saw one or two with your own eyes."

"I know not what to say, John. I am so sorry."

"Do not be concerned. It is certainly not your fault."

"But I hate to think--well, I am but a servant. What could I do?"

"I wonder if Daniel is here."

"I could see if he is awake. I suppose he is." And she left. John stood just inside the door, wondering what had happened to the Rock. Doubtless he would be wandering about outside, staying near, as probably all the other emissaries were. John wished that he could get into the courtroom, but he knew it was hopeless; but then he thought that Nicodemus would be there, and he could tell them afterwards what went on. He could not believe that Nicodemus would have gone over to their side.

Hannah appeared with Daniel behind her. "John!" he exclaimed. "I never expected to find you here!" They embraced. "Thank you, Hannah," they said together.

"Here. Let us go in here," said Daniel, and led him into a room apart. "It cannot but be devastating to you," he said. "But he has reportedly said many things that certainly can be interpreted as blasphemous, and you know how they are."

"I know. And I know they would be blasphemous if they were not true. The problem is that they are true."

"Yes, well. But you know they will never believe that."

"Still, if they need two or three witnesses to agree on exactly what he said, they are going to have trouble. Everything he has ever said is open to several interpretations, and you know how witnesses are."

"Oh, I know. Finding exact agreement is next to impossible. Still, I would not hold out too much hope. There are ways of arranging such things."

"Oh, I know. I have no hope. Somehow all this will result in our salvation, though I suspect the world will not be transformed as Isaiah predicted."

"Good heavens! You mean with children playing with adders and lions eating hay?"

"Well, that is poetry. But I think suffering will not be taken away from the world, as it would have been if he were named King."

"And this is the man who is wedded to the facts! He must be very convincing."

"Well, you know that Isaiah also predicted the suffering servant."

"He did indeed. And it looks very much as if that will come to pass, I fear."

"Well, what will be will be. But remember the empty tomb."

"I have not forgotten. But do not you forget that I said I might believe."

"Well, I wanted to see you, perhaps for the last time, depending on what happens. It was good of you to come."

"John, I would come to see you any time. You know that. But seriously, John--" He paused, as if thinking how to say what he wanted to say.

"What?"

He put his hands on his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. "John, if you--but--John, never start! Never start!"

They embraced. Daniel made as if to kiss him, but John, remembering Ezra's kiss, backed away. "I will pray for you, Daniel. I have seen miracles. Literally!"

Tears filled Daniel's eyes, as he said, "I am not certain that I wish you to do so, my very good friend. Peace."

"Peace, my very good friend."

Interesting, John thought as he walked to the courtyard, he tells me never to start, and yet he would have kissed me if I had let him--no doubt as Ezra kissed me--and God knows what it would have led to. He was an object lesson in why he was right; once one starts, one keeps going, barring a miracle.

Master, please have mercy on him; he is a good man, really.

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