The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ (26 page)

It was true that Jesus had seemed to overcome death on other occasions, notably when He had apparently restored the daughter of Jairus to life in Capernaum, but those happenings had been far from Jerusalem and there was reason to doubt that they were miracles at all. In the case of Jairus’s daughter, Jesus Himself had said she was not dead but asleep.

Concerning Lazarus, however, no one could doubt. He had been pronounced dead by a physician; his body had been prepared for burial by people who could swear that he was indeed dead; and afterward he had lain in the tomb for four days. To Caiaphas, these facts could not be explained unless Jesus healed by the power of Beelzebub, the prince of devils, which the high priest devoutly believed to be the case.

For still another reason, Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin were particularly concerned by the reappearance of Jesus now in the suburbs of Jerusalem. Not long before, a brief outburst of violence had flared in the sanctuary area itself when a group of Galilean Zealots, headed by a bandit named Barabbas, had tried to stir up a rebellion, apparently more in the hope of committing a spectacular robbery during the following confusion, than with any expectation of overthrowing the temple hierarchy. Watchful for just such occurrences, the troops of Pilate had swarmed into the temple without stopping to consult the high priest and had cut down the Galileans, taking only their leader prisoner. In the words of the horrified priests, Pilate had “mingled the blood of the Galileans with their sacrifices,” a reminder of another occasion when heathens had desecrated the great altar of the temple on the order of Antiochus IV.

A wave of indignation had swept Jerusalem at this new indignity by the Romans, and since he often cooperated with Pilate, Caiaphas had been heavily blamed by the Sanhedrin. He was determined to prevent another such incident, for the Sanhedrin could depose him if they wished and name another high priest in his stead, as could the procurator as well. Caiaphas knew, too, that Pilate was not pleased with him for having let the abortive attack occur at all.

The members of the Great Sanhedrin were equally concerned when they met on the morning after word came that Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead. Following the recent disturbances when the Galileans had been executed in the temple, any commotion due to Jesus’ presence in the area might be interpreted by Pontius Pilate as the beginning of another uprising. In such a case the procurator would move swiftly and this time considerably more people might be involved. Roman justice was thorough but sometimes, especially in the hands of an impulsive man like Pontius Pilate, completely ruthless. To the members of the Sanhedrin, the crisis posed by Jesus’ presence could profoundly influence the future of Israel as a nation.

Nearly three hundred years before Jesus was born, Jews who sought to combat the Greek influences and maintain the traditions of a nation founded under God with a code of laws in the Torah had organized themselves in what came to be called the Great Synagogue. Even before the revolt led by Judas Maccabaeus, a senate or
gerousia
, also called the Sanhedrin, had existed in Jerusalem for the purpose of administering the affairs of state for the Jews as a whole. Religious in nature, it was also political, for the Law had come from God through Moses and the two were considered inseparable.

As the Pharisees, with their strict observance of the Torah and their antagonism to the liberal beliefs of the Sadducees, dominated the life of the people under Roman rule, they came to be more and more influential in the Sanhedrin. Under the Hasmoneans, the Sadducees gained power but when Herod the Great murdered forty-five members of the Council, the balance swung again to the Pharisees.

Under Herod, the Sanhedrin had become weak, only to regain its authority when Archelaus was deposed and Judea was made into a province of Rome under a procurator. It became the final supreme court for all cases involving breaches of Mosaic Law. In Galilee, where Herod Antipas ruled, the Sanhedrin at Jerusalem exercised little power except in strictly religious matters. But in Judea and Jerusalem the high court could order arrests and condemn criminals to any punishment short of death. Only capital offenses required the procurator’s approval.

The high court met twice weekly in its own building on the west side of the temple elevation. Although composed of seventy-one members, twenty-three constituted the traditional quorum and the entire membership was rarely present. As a result, the small Priestly Council, largely dominated by Caiaphas, carried on most of the business of the court.

Generally Caiaphas did not convoke the larger group. On the present occasion he summoned it. The question to be discussed was a grave one.

The court sat in a great arc extending from one side of the meeting chamber to the other, a line of men of all ages and of diverse appearance. The priests were richly dressed, the wealthier Pharisees equally so. But there were also artisans and men of little wealth here, many of them teachers whose influence was great.

Annas, the former high priest, spoke first by custom. “We are gathered to decide what must be done with the Nazarene Jesus,” he said in his quavering voice. “This man does many miracles and if we let Him alone, all men will believe Him. Then the Romans will come and take away both our city and nation.”

The recent trouble with the Galileans was uppermost in the minds of all. Had that uprising spread into the city where hatred of the Romans was strong, the punitive actions of Pilate would not have mingled the blood of merely the offending Galileans with their sacrifices. Many of those present had witnessed the cruelties of Herod; some of this very group had been imprisoned by him in the Hippodrome and saved only by the king’s death. They were determined now that trouble be kept from Jerusalem at all costs.

“There is no reason to connect Jesus of Nazareth with the revolt of the Galileans,” Nicodemus said. “If He raises men from the dead, surely He must be the Messiah.”

This was too much for Elam. “The Nazarene performs miracles through the power of Beelzebub!” he shouted angrily. “Would you turn over the temple of Israel to the devil himself?”

“Jesus refuted that argument,” Nicodemus protested.

Elam only shrugged. “Would Satan admit his identity? Demons always answer with a lie.”

A chorus of assent arose from the members.

“This man does good work,” Joseph of Arimathea protested. “Who can accuse Him of any evil?”

“Is it not evil to teach people to break the Law?” a rabbi demanded hotly. “He ignores the Sabbath and uses it as if it were any other day.”

“And He teaches people to eat without washing,” another cried.

“Besides,” Elam added, “there are known revolutionaries among His disciples.”

“He eats with publicans and sinners,” Joachai argued, “encouraging the evil to do more evil.”

“But if He is the Messiah,” Nicodemus managed to interpose, “He could do all those things and it would not be wrong.”

“Would the Messiah break the Law?” Elam demanded incredulously.

“The Messiah will come from God,” Nicodemus said. “The scribes have not hesitated to interpret the Law as they see fit. Why should the Son of God not interpret it as He sees fit?”

The argument was logical and made an impression upon some members. Nicodemus was gaining support for his proposal to leave Jesus, as a prophet, unmolested, but Elam broke in with a familiar argument.

“Will the Anointed of God be a Galilean? A Nazarene?” he demanded contemptuously. “Tell me whether any good can come out of Nazareth.”

Even Nicodemus could not immediately answer this appeal to the deep-seated prejudice of the Jerusalem Jews against Galileans.

“Nothing but trouble comes out of Galilee,” Jochai added. “Remember Barabbas.”

Before the battle of words could start again, Caiaphas spoke. He had shrewdly waited, letting Annas make the first thrust against Jesus and allowing the others to fill the air with vehement oratory. Now he spoke as a conciliator, a peace-maker who would save them all from trouble.

“You know nothing at all that would name this man Jesus the Messiah save His own words,” he said. “Nor do you take into account that it is better one man should die so that the whole nation should not perish.”

Most of these men were sincere. For a few, the chief priests among them, Jesus meant a threat to their control of the vast temple revenue. But what the ordinary members of the Sanhedrin feared was that the Nazarene might stir up the populace and bring down upon the city the wrath of the impetuous Roman governor. They had not troubled themselves about Jesus when He was in Galilee; He had been Herod’s problem then. But now that He was on the outskirts of Jerusalem, performing the miracles that had brought thousands of people flocking to Him in Galilee, even acclaiming Him the Messiah and seeking to make Him king, He threatened the stability of their own world.

Caiaphas had advanced a shrewd argument. Even if Jesus were a prophet, His destruction as an individual was preferable to the bloodbath Pontius Pilate would release if the people of Jerusalem showed signs of proclaiming the Nazarene king. Viewed in that light, one man’s death was a low price to pay for the welfare of the many.

And so when Caiaphas introduced the question of how to combat the menace of Jesus’ presence in Bethany, the vote went heavily for a sentence of death. The method the members gladly left to the high priest, a silent tribute to his skill in such matters. The small minority in the Sanhedrin who protested, particularly Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, were shouted down and the decision was made. The Nazarene must die.

For indeed, the kingdom of God is within you.

Luke 17:21

Jesus and His disciples were resting at Bethany, rejoicing with Mary and Martha that Lazarus had returned to life. The action of the Sanhedrin, reported to them at once by Nicodemus, had taken place on the day preceding the Sabbath. The arguments had occupied most of the morning, so there was little reason to believe Caiaphas would move until after the day of rest. Jesus therefore stayed with His party at Bethany until the Sabbath had passed and then departed early on the following morning.

It was their custom to go to Peraea and Galilee by way of Jericho but now that Caiaphas was actively plotting His death, Jesus chose a less traveled route. Moving north toward Samaria He came into the hilly district lying between Jerusalem and the border and stopped at a small village called Ephraim.

Originally a town of Samaria, Ephraim had been added to Judea almost two hundred years before. Although little more than a day’s journey from Jerusalem, it was still a frontier place where the authority of the Sanhedrin would not be strong. The town lay in the midst of a populous and highly cultivated area, but hardly a mile to the east a ridge of high land began and extended to the Jordan Valley, the hills being densely wooded and best described as a wilderness. From the nearby heights the whole of Judea could be seen, extending as far to the southeast as the Sea of Judgment. A deep valley on the south and a range of hills to the north helped to seclude the area, and the nearest road of any significance passed west of the town. This out-of-the-way location made it possible for Jesus and His party, now fugitives from authority, to reach Ephraim without using any well-traveled roads where agents of Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin might be waiting to seize Him, or the sicarii, whose knives were always for hire, to assassinate Him.

From Ephraim, if the occasion demanded, He could quickly move into Samaria and, by a rapid journey along roads that were not heavily traveled, into Galilee. Or should flight into Peraea be indicated, a quick journey would bring Him to the Jordan and the crossing just south of its confluence with the River Jabbok. Thus the area was especially suitable for Jesus and His companions to rest and teach for some weeks before undertaking the next journey to Jerusalem for the Passover.

On other occasions, Jesus had visited Jerusalem for the religious festivals without any fanfare. During the previous Feast of Tabernacles He had even waited in the home of Mary and Martha at Bethany until the first days of the week of celebration were past, entering the temple to teach only toward the end when many people had already left. But the action of the Sanhedrin now forced Him to choose between defying Caiaphas and the court or abandoning Jerusalem and Judea altogether. This latter choice would limit His activity to Peraea where the tetrarch Philip still tolerated Him, or would force Him to leave Israel and go to the Gentiles.

From the beginning Jesus had said He was sent to the “lost sheep of Israel.” If He were ever to be recognized as the Messiah, no time would be more appropriate than the Passover, the most holy season, when the greatest crowds would visit the city. To approach Jerusalem unheralded would now be impossible, however. The only alternative was to enter the city with such a concourse of followers that even a desperate man like the high priest would hesitate to arrest Him.

These were the arguments Simon Peter and the leaders of the disciples used. Jesus agreed, though He was saddened by the failure of the disciples to understand the meaning of the events which were to follow. Since a great crowd was to accompany Him to Jerusalem for the coming Passover, He and His disciples soon left Ephraim and moved to the southern district of Galilee, passing through Samaria.

Ten lepers who had somehow learned that the Galilean healer was coming that way stood by the roadside as Jesus entered a small village near the border of Galilee. By the Law they could approach no nearer than seven cubits and as Jesus came near, they lifted their voices in a chorus of pleas, begging Him to have mercy upon them and cleanse them of their loathsome disease.

Jesus looked at the men, His eyes warm at their faith. “Go and show yourselves to the priest,” He said, directing them to complete the customary ritual evidence of their cleansing required under Mosaic Law.

Overjoyed, nine of the men hurried on to obtain the coveted certificate of cleansing. The tenth, who was a Samaritan, turned back to fall on the ground before Jesus, glorifying God and giving thanks for the miracle that had made him whole.

“Were not ten cleansed, but where are the nine?” Jesus said sadly. “Were there none found who returned to give glory to God, save this stranger?”

The Jews who were listening dropped their eyes in shame and Jesus looked down at the prostrate man. “Arise and go your way,” He told him. “Your faith has made you whole.”

Jesus’ steps were heavy as He continued on the road that would lead eventually to Jerusalem and the Passover. Of the ten who had been shown the way into the kingdom of God by faith, only one, and he a Samaritan, had chosen to follow Him.

Jemuel was a man of substance and proud of his accomplishments. Though barely thirty he was one of the rulers of the synagogue in his town, and was respected by the people for his industry in caring for his vineyards and his olive groves, his fairness to all who worked or traded with him, and his strict observance of the Law. Jemuel had every reason to believe the Most High approved of him, for did God not favor with earthly wealth those who obeyed His commandments? On the Sabbath he often read from the Law and the Prophets and he kept the festivals religiously, always going up to Jerusalem for the Passover and. sometimes attending the other feasts as well.

Word had come even to the small town that the Nazarene Teacher was a controversial figure and that it was said the Sanhedrin at Jerusalem had condemned Him to death. But certainly there had seemed nothing controversial about the slender man with the warm friendly eyes who had stopped to teach the children of the village and had blessed them so graciously. He had even healed several people who were known to Jemuel, so when this visiting rabbi was invited to speak, no one had objected—until they heard His words.

When He taught, the Teacher changed from the simple unassuming man in the homespun robe who had come walking into the village the day before at the head of a small procession of His followers. His voice was still soft and His manner still restrained, but He spoke words they had never heard before, prophesying the imminent coming of the kingdom of God, preaching the need to repent of their sins if they were to be saved from death and given eternal life, and stressing the need to reorder their lives. As He had stood upon the elevated platform for the reading of the Shema, both the Teacher and His words took on an authority and urgency that stirred and troubled the hearts of many of His listeners. Some had even come to Him after the Sabbath service asking to hear more; a few were reported to have put aside their work and followed Him.

Jemuel was not one of those to become followers; he had possessions he could not afford to leave and a position in the community he would not give up. Nevertheless his mind was uneasy as he walked home from the Sabbath service. His steps were lingering, as tradition required, but more than tradition made him delay. A deep uncertainty troubled his mind and neither the festive gaiety of the Sabbath meal nor his handsome wife, fine children, and beautiful home could elevate his spirits.

Jemuel could not understand what the Nazarene had meant by the coming of the kingdom of God. It was true that all Jews, except the Sadducees, who denied the reality of eternal life, looked forward to the creation of God’s kingdom on earth and the coming forth from the grave of those who had kept the Law—as Jemuel did. But Jesus had obviously meant something else, a kingdom of God here and now in the everyday lives of men and their relationships one with another. And this Jemuel could not understand, for to him the present was already sufficient.

He had his possessions and his family. He had the satisfaction of one who keeps the Law. He was looked up to by his fellow men as a leader in religious worship. He had the joyful knowledge of all these things each day of his life. What should he do that he was not doing?

Friends came to visit that Sabbath afternoon and discussed the Nazarene Teacher. But none could say anything to ease Jemuel’s mind, and his evening prayers, strictly observed as always in the presence of his family, brought no relief from the vague uneasiness that troubled his soul.

Jemuel’s wife could not help him. She had talked with some women who had taken their children to the Nazarene to be blessed, but these women had been prompted only by the feeling that the touch of one reputed to be a holy man should bring health and good luck. One woman had heard the teacher reproving His disciples because they had tried to keep away the women and children, but the words the Nazarene had spoken made little sense to Jemuel.

“Whoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein,” the Teacher had said before blessing the children. But what could Jemuel’s little son, playing on the floor of hard-packed earth, know about the kingdom of God when the scribes and learned rabbis argued endlessly about it? And how could a man become a child again so that he might enter that kingdom—if such a place existed?

Jemuel was a practical man, accustomed to resolving a question and making a final decision to which he then adhered without change. But tonight he failed. In his quandary, he visited his friend Zaccai, who was considered in the village something of a thinker and who had remained to listen to the Nazarene after the Sabbath service was over.

“I saw the Nazarene and His disciples eat without washing their hands,” Zaccai reported with a note of disapproval in his voice. “And one of them said they often traveled on the Sabbath day.”

“Many people do not obey all the Law,” Jemuel said. “But not rabbis who must tell others what they should do.”

‘“What if He is a prophet?” Jemuel asked.

Zaccai shrugged. “Some said John the Baptist was a prophet, but Herod beheaded him and the Most High has not punished Herod.”

“Did the Nazarene tell you anything about this kingdom of God He speaks of so much?”

“I remember only one thing,” Zaccai said, “but it makes no sense.”

“What was it?”

“The Teacher said, ‘The kingdom of God is within you.’”

“Do you suppose He meant that one who keeps the Law already dwells in the kingdom in his own heart?”

“You keep the Law,” Zaccai reminded him. “Why are you so troubled then?”

Jemuel did not know the answer but he felt no better for Zaccai’s observation. “Did He say anything else?”

“Something about light—yes, I remember. He said, ‘I am the light of the world. He that follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.’”

“What does that mean?”

“I am not sure,” Zaccai said. “Once, when John the Baptist was preaching at the fords of the Jordan, I went to hear him. The Essenes make much of what they call the light. Some of the same men who now follow the Nazarene were disciples of John.”

Jemuel nodded. “Jesus and John were kinsmen.”

“When I listened to John, I stayed for several days at the community of the Essenes near the fords,” Zaccai said thoughtfully. “Some of what the Nazarene said sounds like their teachings.”

“Is Jesus an Essene, then?”

“I think not, for the Essenes obey the Law in every respect, and He does not. They believe that the powers of good in the world representing the light are constantly battling the evil forces of darkness. And that when the light triumphs, a new kingdom of God will begin in our time. That might be what the Nazarene means.”

“Prophets like Isaiah and Esdras used much the same words,” Jemuel said.

“Yes. But there is something else about these Essenes. Their order was founded a long time ago by one they call the Teacher of Righteousness. They expect him to return to earth. Or expect at least another Teacher of Righteousness to come who will lead the forces of light to victory and bring the kingdom of God to pass on earth.”

“Then when Jesus says, ‘I am the light,’ He may be announcing that He is the Teacher of Righteousness who is to come?” Jemuel said eagerly.

“I thought of that. But the Nazarene does not claim to be an Essene and does not follow their rules.”

“The Essenes care for the sick as He does,” Jemuel said.

“But they do not heal with miracles. Jesus raised Lazarus of Bethany from the dead only a few days ago and since then His disciples have been proclaiming openly that He is the Messiah.”

“But that is impossible!” Jemuel cried. “Everyone knows the Messiah will come in glory, surrounded by the angels, to rule in Israel.”

“I could not believe it either,” Zaccai agreed. “That is why I did not stay with the Nazarene any longer.”

When Jemuel found the next morning that uncertainty still troubled him, he went to the caravansary where Jesus and His party were already astir, preparing to take the road. Going directly to where Jesus stood beside the road, Jemuel knelt at His feet. “Good Master,” he said, “what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”