The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ (38 page)

Jesus looked at him with the warm light of understanding and affection in His eyes for He understood equally Peter’s weaknesses and his strength. “Before the cock crows this night, you shall deny Me three times,” He told the tall fisherman.

Peter protested all the more vehemently that he would follow Jesus even to death and the others added their own protests. When He came to the gate leading into the garden, Jesus told the rest of the disciples to stay behind, taking with Him only Peter, James, and John, the three who were closest to Him. When they were a little distance inside the garden, He said to the three, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death. Tarry here and watch with Me.”

Leaving the three behind, Jesus went to the very center of the garden and began to pray. “O My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me.” Then the waiting disciples heard Him say, “Nevertheless not as I will, but as You will.”

Jesus continued to pray and while the three waited, their eyes grew heavy for it had been a long day for them. When the Master returned after a little while, He found all three asleep.

“Could you not watch with Me one hour?” He asked reproachfully. “Watch and pray, that you do not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

He went a little deeper into the garden alone to pray once again and this time the disciples heard Him say, “O My Father, if this cup may not pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.”

Peter, James, and John were again asleep by the time Jesus returned to them. He did not wake them but went back to pray once more and after a few moments returned and roused them.

“The hour is at hand when the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners,” He told them. “Rise, let us be going. Behold,” He said, “he is at hand who betrays Me.”

Still half asleep, Peter and the other two hardly understood Him. But now from the direction of the gate where the other eight disciples waited came a sudden sharp challenge and the sound of feet running through the trees and much shouting. Wide-awake now, they could see the light of torches coming toward them up the slope through the garden and hear the clank of weapons and the tread of many feet. The three looked at each other in consternation and sudden fear. The presence of soldiers here could have but one meaning. Caiaphas had sent them to take Jesus prisoner.

John Mark was panting and his body was drenched with sweat. He had hardly noticed the strains of the hallel floating over the city, and when he reached his home he ran up the outside stairway to the upper chamber without stopping. When he stepped inside, however, he found that only his mother and several of the neighboring women were there, busy putting the remainder of the food away and cleaning up after the supper.

Mary looked up in surprise when Mark burst into the room. “I looked for you beside the sycamore tree just now, Mark,” she said. “Did you go with Jesus and the others to Gethsemane?”

“I was following Judas,” Mark gasped. “To the palace of the high priest. Where is the Master?”

“They sang the hymn here together and then left for the garden on the Mount of Olives. Jesus went there to pray before going on to Bethany.”

“Judas knew the Master was going to the garden!” Mark said. “He has betrayed Jesus to the high priest so the guards can arrest Him!”

Mary caught her breath. “Are you sure, son?”

“I heard him tell Abiathar he could take Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane because only a few would be with Him. I must go and warn the Master!”

“Your robe is wet with sweat,” Mary protested, her first concern for her son. “You will be chilled by the night air!”

“I must go, mother!” Mark insisted. “If I can get to the garden first, they may be able to flee to Bethany. Or at least we will have time to arouse some of the Galileans camped on the Mount of Olives.”

Mary hurried to a closet and took out a length of linen cloth. “Wrap this dry cloth around you then and leave the robe here,” she said. “And be careful, Mark!”

For already the boy was gone, wrapping the length of cloth about him like a Roman toga as he ran.

The cooking fires on the slopes of the Mount of Olives, where those camped there had roasted the paschal lamb before their tents that afternoon were dying away now and in the darkness only an occasional glow showed where they had been. The moon was hidden behind a cloud, and Mark, as he ran through the streets, stumbled more than once and fell several times, for he was almost exhausted. Each time, conscious that every moment counted, he pulled himself to his feet and kept on going.

At the city gate, he was forced to stop, for the column of guards with Abiathar and Judas in the lead was just then passing through on the way to the Garden of Gethsemane. He darted through the gate after the guards, hoping to pass them and still reach the garden in time to warn Jesus. But one of the soldiers saw what he was trying to do. Thrusting out the handle of his spear, he tripped Mark and the youth fell to the ground, half stunned.

“You’ll not warn the Nazarene of our coming, boy,” the guard called to him as he passed with the others.

Painfully, Mark stumbled to his feet. The column had passed him now and he had no choice except to fall in behind it.

Up the slope the guards marched. At the gate of the Garden of Gethsemane a little knot of men had gathered. Mark recognized a number of Jesus’ disciples and for a moment he thought they were going to resist the passage of the guards. But when Abiathar drew his sword and a dozen men behind him bared their spears, the little group melted into the darkness.

There was no sign of Jesus or Simon Peter and Mark hoped, as the column of guards marched through the gate, that they might somehow have been warned and made their escape. But then in the light of the torches borne by those at the head of the column, he saw them standing a little way inside the garden itself. Jesus was in front, as if He were protecting the others, with Simon Peter just behind Him and James and John a pace farther back. There was no sign of fear in Jesus’ eyes or in His manner as the column on an order from Abiathar divided to surround Him.

Mark saw Abiathar turn to Judas and speak but could not hear what was said. He could see that Judas hesitated, however, but when Abiathar growled again, the betrayer stepped forward and, pretending to embrace Jesus, said, “Master,” and kissed Him.

Immediately—for Judas’s act had been the signal—the guards moved forward and seized Jesus. James and John had drawn back before the naked swords in the hands of the soldiers, but Simon Peter stepped forward. Mark, to his surprise, saw that Peter was bolding a sword. With an awkward movement the disciple slashed out at one of the guards who was holding Jesus by the arm. The man parried the blow easily, however, and Peter succeeded only in slicing the ear of one of the bystanders. A blow from another soldier’s sword knocked the weapon from Peter’s hand, and when he saw the blade thrusting forward to cut him down, the tall disciple turned and, as the others had done, ran away among the trees into the darkness.

“Have you come out as against a thief with swords and staves to take Me?” Jesus demanded scathingly of His captors. “I was with you daily in the temple teaching and you did not take Me.” Then Mark heard Him say almost as an afterthought, “But the Scriptures must be fulfilled.”

Jesus was standing alone, all the disciples having been driven away by the weapons of the guards. The one who had tripped Mark on the road saw him and called out, “The boy here tried to bring word of our coming. He must be one of them.”

At the cry one of the guards seized the linen cloth Mark had wrapped about his body but, stricken with terror, the boy twisted himself free and fled in nothing but his loin cloth, leaving the linen garment behind.

The underbrush tore at Mark’s body as he stumbled through the grove, driven by a fear greater than he had ever known. When the absence of any sound behind him assured him that he was not being pursued, he slowed to a walk and tried to think clearly. He saw now that he was not far from the wall surrounding the garden, and going to it, climbed on the rocks so that he could see the slope below him and the path that led from the garden to the city. As he watched, he saw a man plunge down the path, running and stumbling as if he were pursued by a thousand demons, although there was no one following. For a moment Mark dared hope Jesus had somehow broken away from His captors. But as the bend in the path brought the man only a few paces from where Mark stood on the wall, he recognized Judas of Kerioth.

For a moment the face of the man who had betrayed Jesus was revealed in the light of the moon which had now come from behind the clouds. And at the utter terror mirrored there, Mark could not keep back a cry of astonishment. Only one certain of destruction, Mark sensed, would be in the grip of such fear. Judas of Kerioth had realized, too late, that he who betrayed the Son of God could not escape retribution.

The clank of military gear warned Mark that Abiathar and the guards were leaving the garden, and he drew back along the wall into the shadow of a tall tree. Slowly the column came into sight, two lines of soldiers with Jesus walking in their midst, His hands secured by fetters and naked spears menacing Him on every side. The youth was sick with shame that he had run away, for he saw that Jesus was now entirely deserted.

When the procession had disappeared down the road leading to Jerusalem, Mark climbed down from the wall and made his way back along the path toward the center of the garden. So far as he had been able to tell, his linen garment had not been carried away by any of the guards. He hoped it might have fallen to the ground and still be in the garden, for he was already shivering in the chill night air.

The place was empty now and Mark found the cloth lying where it had been torn from him. Grateful for its warmth, he wrapped it about his shaking body and started down the path again in the wake of those who had taken Jesus prisoner. Near the gate, he heard crashing sounds in the underbrush and drew back quickly from the road, thinking that some of the guards might have been left behind to look for Jesus’ disciples. But when a tall figure stumbled from the trees into the road and stood looking about him dumbly, Mark gave a cry of recognition. It was Simon Peter.

“Simon!” Mark called.

The big man stiffened and started to lumber toward the underbrush beside the road, but Mark ran out into the open where he could be seen. “It is John Mark!” he called. “Your friend!”

The disciple seemed in a daze, but Mark’s words and familiar voice finally penetrated his mind. Slowly he turned and the youth saw that, in addition to the wounds from brambles on his cheeks and arms, Peter’s face was ravaged by suffering and shame.

Sensing that Peter had been driven almost out of his mind by the shock of what had just happened, Mark approached him slowly. “You know me, Peter,” he said. “It is John Mark.”

“Mark.” Peter looked at him dazedly. “Where is the Master?”

“Abiathar has taken Him prisoner. Judas betrayed Him.”

“But Jesus gave Judas the sop.”

“I heard Judas tell Abiathar that Jesus would be in the garden here with only a few of you.”

“Where have they taken Him?”

“To the palace of the high priest, I think,” Mark said. “The guards came from there.”

Peter seemed not to understand. Mark took him by the hand. “Let us go to the palace, Peter,” he said. “Maybe we can help Jesus.”

The words seemed to penetrate the shocked mind at last. “Yes. Yes, we must help Jesus,” he said almost mechanically.

“This is the way,” Mark said, starting to lead the tall fisherman down the path. “I will take you there.”

And so the two of them, the boy and the man who both had tried to help Jesus, together left the garden the Master had loved.

For the mockery that was to be called a trial, Jesus was first taken to the Palace of Annas, the former high priest who was still the most influential figure in the priestly hierarchy. Annas had held the high priesthood himself for only six or seven years, but had managed afterward to have several of his sons, as well as his son-in-law, Caiaphas, succeed him. By dexterously using the vast temple revenues to further his power, as when Pontius Pilate had been allowed to use temple funds for the great aqueduct, Annas had managed to keep himself and his family on good terms with the Romans and had thus kept the highest religious office under his control. He did not now intend to allow Caiaphas, who sometimes failed to reason before acting, to bungle the matter of Jesus’ death, and had ordered the Nazarene to be brought to him as soon as He was taken.

Annas first asked the prisoner to implicate His disciples, thinking Jesus might seek to save Himself and incriminate others, thus making the charges which were to be leveled against Him even heavier. But Jesus refused to answer any questions about the disciples even though they had all fled when He was betrayed by Judas and then had been taken. So the old high priest switched to matters of doctrine, where the chief charges against Jesus lay.

“Why do you ask Me?” Jesus answered him. “I spoke openly to the world and always taught in the synagogue or in the temple, where the Jews go. I have said nothing in secret. Ask them who heard Me. They know what I said.”

At His words, Abiathar struck Jesus across the mouth with his fist, almost knocking Him to the ground. “Do you answer the high priest so?” the captain demanded indignantly.

A trickle of blood flowed from Jesus’ lip where the captain’s fist had driven the flesh against a tooth, but He did not falter or cringe.

“If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil,” He challenged Abiathar. “But if I have spoken well, why do you strike Me?”

They continued the questioning but realizing at last that it was futile, they took Him to the palace of Caiaphas where the Priestly Council had been waiting since the end of the Passover to pass judgment upon Him.

With Jesus now in his hands, Caiaphas ordered Abiathar to let the Roman soldiers who had aided in the arrest return to the Antonia. Until it was time to ask Pilate’s approval of the death sentence, he meant this to remain a strictly Jewish matter. The fewer Romans involved, the better.