Eighteen

I arrived in Jerusalem a bit ahead even of the group itself, and joined them when they came up. It gave me time to visit my house and deposit the money I had acquired safely. It was too late to do anything, and so we went to the Gethsemani garden, where we ate. We were to sleep there, but it was too early to do so, so I walked in the woods nearby in the twilight and then the dark, musing. I could not develop a plan of action, and began to wonder if I should simply leave. I had enough to live on comfortably by this time.

John spotted me, and dashed over, saying, "Judas, did you put a tarantula in Nathanael's pouch?"

"What?" I said. "You have been listening to that lying slave of his?"

"He is not a liar!"

"Oh, please! One need only look at him--of course, only in the daytime. He is as black as the night."

"And what of that 'mistake' with your wine canteen with Thomas?"

"What of it? It was a mistake."

"You could have killed him!"

"Come now. Is he any the worse for it? What are you trying to accuse me of?"

"That is what I wish to find out! And brushing up against me!"

"When did I ever 'brush against' you?"

"You know you did! That night not long ago!"

"You are out of your mind."

"Now you are calling me a liar."

"Well, when you say things that are not, what am I to call you?"

"I know what I call you, what the Master himself called you--a devil!"

"What is this, little boy? You wish to pick a fight with me? Indeed? You think you are Ezra, or can fight his battles? I can handle Ezra, and I can certainly handle you!"

"If you wish a fight, I am more than willing!" He made a fist.

I had another sudden inspiration. "Very well, strip, and let me teach you a lesson or two." I had seen him fight, and he obviously had not studied the skill of hand-to-hand combat--and I knew a good deal about it. So we stripped--the place where we met was very secluded, beside a little stream, with woods covering everything except the tiny clearing we were in. I noted that John was in fine shape; he had been exercising, doubtless, not to lose the muscles he had acquired rowing. It would be a distinct pleasure to teach him the lesson he needed.

John threw a punch, which I had no trouble dodging, and as I suspected, his feet were perfect for the maneuver I had ready. In an instant, I had tripped him onto his back on the ground, and threw myself on top of him, and pinned him down.

"You thought it would be easy, did you not?" I panted, grinning. He struggled to get free, but I held him fast, and began moving my naked body back and forth on top of him. I was beginning to be aroused, and I felt that he was also. It was what I had expected. And there was nothing he could do about it, since he could not escape.

"Admit it, you enjoy it!" I said, as I kept moving. Both of us were receiving intense pleasure.

Then John stopped struggling for a moment, which made my task a bit easier. I suspected that he might be giving in to the sensation, but it seems that he was worried that he might be cooperating with what was going on, for he suddenly resumed struggling, harder this time, giving me quite a bit more trouble keeping him down while I worked on him. I had no breath for comments any longer; he was a very strong young lad.

Fortunately, it did not last long. John reached climax first, and I was not far behind him. I kept moving while it was happening, sliding on what was now between our two bodies, and enjoying myself considerably.

But after a short time I stood up, breathing hard, and said, "Well! You seemed to have had quite a good time! I suspected as much. But I hope you have learned your lesson about challenging your elders and betters. There is a stream over there where you can wash--but I think I myself will wear my victory for a while." And I picked up my tunic and put it on over my reeking body, and donned my mantle and walked away. I would wash soon, and clean my clothes, because after all I had to sleep with the other fools in the garden, and they might be able to detect the odor.

If John wished another fight, I could explain to him how there was nothing wrong with what we did, and how it was not what many commentators on Leviticus were referring to. But I supposed he would not have much stomach for it. Still, perhaps it planted a seed which would grow and save him trouble with people like Ezra.

That day, Jesus entered the Temple courtyard reserved for the Hebrew people. A few recognized him, and the rumor began spreading that he had after all come up to the festival. He sat down on the top of some steps leading up to a porch and waited, chatting with the Twelve, until what he evidently considered a sufficient crowd gathered about him.

"I would have you consider a story," he said, in a voice that carried throughout the space. "There was an owner of an estate who planted a vineyard, put up a hedge round it, dug a winepress in it, and built a tower, and then rented it to farmers and went to live somewhere else." He paused.

People began saying, "Where have I heard that?" "He is quoting, is he not? Who is it? Isaiah?"

Jesus continued, "When harvest time approached, he sent his slaves to the farmers to collect his produce; but the farmers took his slaves captive and beat one up, killed another, and stoned the third."

There were murmurs of "Outrageous!" "But what does he mean by it?"

"The next time, he sent more slaves than the first group, but they did the same thing to them." There were further murmurs from the crowd. "Finally, he sent his son, saying that they would respect his son, but when the farmers saw the son, they said to each other, 'This is the heir; let us kill him here and then we will have the inheritance!'" And over the increasing comments of the crowd, Jesus said, "So they caught him, dragged him out of the vineyard, and killed him."

Jesus now waited until the cries of indignation died down. There were a number in his audience, however, who held their peace, and looked at him quizzically. I knew why.

When reasonable silence was restored, Jesus asked, "Now, when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those farmers?"

One or two began to blurt something, and one of those who had been listening silently took an arm and said, "Be careful, now," but finally the answer came, "He will slaughter those devils and rent the vineyard to farmers who will give him the crop when the harvest comes!" There was a roar of assent.The man caught the meaning I saw, and said, "God forbid!" in a low tone.

After a dramatic pause, Jesus concluded, "Have you never read in Scripture, 'The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this has been done by the Master, and is a marvel to our eyes.'?"

"What is he saying?" said one. "Do you not see?" answered the man by me. "Isaiah was referring to the people of Israel as the vineyard. Clearly, the farmers are the priests and the Pharisees, who have been trying to kill him, have they not? So he is saying that the Kingdom will--"

"And that is why I am telling you that God's Kingdom will be taken away from you and given to Gentiles, who will produce a crop from it! Anyone who falls on this stone will break into pieces, and anyone it falls upon it will grind to powder!"

"You see?" said the man. "But that is outrageous!" was the reply. He shouted, "What makes you think you know the Scriptures? You have never been taught!"

"My learning is not mine," answered Jesus. "It comes from the one who sent me. And if anyone chooses to do his will, he will know whether what I say comes from God, or whether I am speaking on my own. A person who is speaking on his own cares what people think of him; one who cares for what the one who sent him thinks is trustworthy, and has no dishonesty about him."

"Trustworthy!" they shouted. "Who do you think you are? Moses?" "How dare you speak thus!"

"Moses gave you the Law, did he not?" said Jesus. There were cries of "Of course!" "What then?" "But none of you are doing what the Law says. Why are you trying to have me killed?" It was true, of course. They were planning and planning how they could get rid of him and not themselves suffer for it. Evidently, it would involve some charge of treason to the Romans, since they were the ones who crucified people.

There was another uproar, among which was heard, "You are out of your mind! Who is trying to kill you?"

"I performed one deed here," said Jesus, "which shocked all of you. He was referring to the man by the Bethesda pool that he had cured on a Sabbath. "And yet because Moses gave you circumcision--" some tried to object at this, but Jesus went on, "--not that it came from Moses, but the Patriarchs--you will circumcise a man on the Sabbath. Now if a man can accept circumcision on the Sabbath and not break the Law of Moses, should you be indignant with me for making a whole man healthy on the Sabbath? Do not judge by appearances; base your judgments on the facts!"

"I thought he would say something like this," said the man who had spoken. The other said, "But do you not realize that he as much as said in the story that he was God's Son?"

--And that was the problem, was it not?

"No, no," returned the man, "he means the Prince, that is all. But he is the one they have been wanting to kill; my uncle said he heard a Pharisee say that it would be a blessing if someone took a knife to him. Yet behold him here, speaking openly now, and no one is saying anything to him."

The other turned to him. "Can it be that the authorities have found out that he really is the Prince?"

"No, no! First of all, he is from Galilee--and we know where, from Nazareth. When the Prince comes, no one will know where he is from."

As if he had heard, Jesus rose to his feet, held out his arms, and shouted, "You know me! You know where I am from! But I did not come by myself! Someone who does not deceive anyone sent me--someone you do not recognize. But I know him, because I came from him, and he sent me!"

"I told you!" said the second man. "Can you not see what he is claiming? And in the very Temple of God! Down with him!" And he rushed forward, along with a number of others, but Jesus could not be found.

"What happened to him?" "How did he escape?" they asked each other, milling about.

"Blasphemy, that is what it was, on the very steps of the Temple!" said the man, still indignantly looking for Jesus.

"But perhaps he is the Prince," said someone.

"He is certainly a holy man," said another.

"The priests think--"

"The question is," said the man who had been beside us thoughtfully, "when the Prince does come, will he do more marvelous things to prove his claim than this man has?"

It took a while before the crowd satisfied themselves that Jesus was no longer there, and after some discussion, they dispersed.

He came down from heaven from God, and that is why he "knows him"; and not only that, but God "sent me." Closer and closer to blasphemy, but still one could wriggle out of an accusation. It would be interesting to see how long this could go on before he said something that could not be construed but as his claim that he was what he called "the Father" in reality, even though he would make some distinction between him and the one whose name we do not pronounce.

But there was something interesting about this episode did not involve who Jesus was. I saw John come late to the meeting, around noon, and he was met by Andrew. They stood beside each other, and Andrew had his arm across John's shoulder. I wondered if Andrew realized how that would make John feel. He evidently did not think anything about it. Perhaps I could enlighten him at some time.

The next day, following what was essentially the rebuke about the vineyard, a number of Pharisees were waiting to pounce upon Jesus, and after letting him speak for a while, collecting a huge crowd, a delegation of them came up, and asked, "Rabbi, we know that you are truthful, and that you pay no attention to what others think, because you care nothing for public opinion, but teach honestly the path to God. So--is it permitted to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Which is it?"

Interesting. If he said, "Yes," he as much as admitted that Rome's occupation was legitimate; but if he said No, he would be able to be charged with treason. They were all silent, in anticipation of how Jesus would extricate himself.

I myself saw a way out, and it was not long before Jesus answered, "Show me the coin you use to pay taxes."

A man close by, evidently the one who had asked the question, fumbled in the folds of his robe and brought out what must have been a denarius. "Whose image is this," asked Jesus, "and whose inscription is on it?"

"Caesar's" was the answer.

"Then give back to Caesar what is Caesar's, and return to God what is God's," he said. There was laughter and cries of "Brilliant!" "Excellent!" Exactly what I had thought.

Jesus sat down on the steps leading up to the courtyard of the Judeans, as his questioner withdrew in chagrin. He seemed to be preparing to preach again.

But at that moment, some others dragged a woman forward, her hair askew and robes rumpled, struggling to free herself from their grasp. They stood her in front of Jesus.

"Rabbi, this woman has been arrested in the very act of adultery; and Moses in the Law has commanded us to stone her sort. What do you have to say about it?"

The crowd fell silent once again; this trap was not one he could extricate himself from by clever wordplay. If he dismissed her, he was violating the Law; but how could a man who claimed to be able to forgive sins stone a sinner?

I saw Matthew look over at the other side of the crowd, and there was Mary, no less. I wondered why I had not seen her for a while. What was she doing apart from all the others? And was she not with Lazarus and Martha? Was the long-lost sister of Martha the notorious Mary of Magdala? And had they received her back into their family? Clearly, they did not know who she was, or Lazarus would have created a scene that the actors in the theater at Caesarea could use for lessons.

But it did look as if she had left us. That was a fascinating development. Had Jesus grown tired of her? That opened numerous possibilities.

Jesus, musing, was writing in the dust on the steps, and erasing what he had scribbled. He glanced up at the person who had been questioning him, and said, "Have some sinless one among you throw the first stone," and bent down and continued writing.

But now he was writing words, and looked up at his questioner, and then down at what he had written. The man, whose face turned scarlet, turned and left without a word.

Then Jesus erased what he wrote, and looked up again; but this time, the one he looked at did not bother to see what he had written, and turned as if he had seen nothing, and also left.

It did not require many glances up from what he had been doing for the crowd to become remarkably sparse; and then Jesus wrote in the ground and looked straight at John and Andrew.

Instead of leaving, they remained off to the side as everyone else dispersed. Jesus looked at the woman, and said, "Where are they, Madame? Has no one condemned you?"

"No one, Sir," she said.

"Nor do I condemn you. Go in peace." She hurried off.

Jesus beckoned John and Andrew, and spoke to them at some length. Finally, I heard John say, "Thank you, Master," and Andrew said, "Yes. I understand. Thank you."

"Go in peace now, and stop worrying so much." He smiled a loving smile upon them both. I wondered what that was all about, but it was private. I would be willing to wager, however, that at least in John's case, it had to do with the fight we had. Well, Jesus had assured him that he had no fault, and so I supposed that my goal had been at least partially accomplished.

I was beginning to follow John, but thought better of it, and it occurred to me that Jesus was not finished. I thought, in fact, I heard him talking to me in that voice of his that could be heard all around the courtyard, saying, "You will die in your sins." It sounded like it.

I went nearer. And sure enough, he had said, to the group, not specifically to me, "If you do not believe that I AM, you will die in your sins!"

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