Centurion: Mark's Gospel as a Thriller (17 page)

A blind man sees.

A paralyzed man receives the freedom of movement. But perhaps even more astonishing, the Teacher forgives his sins, which settles the matter for the
religious authorities; the Teacher is a blasphemer, they believe, for only God can forgive sins. They declare only one suitable penalty for a blasphemer: death.

Then the Teacher asks us a question that changes everything. "Who do people say I am?" The fourteen of us are walking alone when the question comes. There are no masses of people, only us, his students.

For a time no one says anything. Then I speak up. "They say you're a prophet. Perhaps one of the great ones returned from the grave?"

The other students echo my thoughts. They all agree the people see him as the Son of Man, sent from heaven to save the people from the tyranny of King Charles's kingdom.

The Teacher stops walking and listens to our replies. He presses us further. "But who do you say I am?"

Petra answers first, with fire in his voice. "You...are...the...messiah."

The Teacher's eyes give him away. I turn sharply to Jude, who keeps his focus trained squarely on the Teacher, clearly anxious to hear his reply.

But the Teacher says nothing to indicate whether Petra is correct. Instead he says, "Say nothing more of this."

"But," Petra begins, "we must—"

"What you must understand is that the Son of Man will undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and after three days rise again."

Petra takes the Teacher by his shoulders and forcefully leads him away from the group. It's the first time I've seen anyone handle him this way. In private Petra speaks harsh words to the Teacher. They argue madly over what the Teacher has just said.

"Get behind me, Evil One!" the Teacher yells. "For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." Then he calls to all of us, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me, for those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?"

No one dares offer a reply. His words stun us into silence.

The Teacher spends the night alone in prayer while the rest of us debate the meaning of what he has said. I say, "Must you die to be the Teacher's
follower? Is this what he has in mind for all of you...death on a Kingdom cross? Is that where his "way" leads?"

Petra shakes his head violently. "It can't be! No! That's why I got so upset with him. I don't want the Teacher talking that way. It's absurd! No one here will die when we reach the Holy City. We've worked and struggled for too long. This will be a time of victory, not defeat. The only people who will die will be those who side with the Kingdom. End of story."

"Yes," Miles says, "but I'm beginning to wonder if the Teacher's notion of victory is different than ours. I'd thought he'd change his tactics by now. We're only days away from the festival, and still he makes no preparation for battle. We spend every waking moment with the poor, feeding widows, healing the lame. I don't protest these righteous actions, but at some point we must set our sights on higher things."

"Yes," I say. "This may sound crude, but freedom can't be won out here with the weak. It'll only be won in the city, where power resides. The message must be brought to the Holy City and the seat of power. The people may love the Teacher, but these aren't the crowds the Kingdom is afraid of. The Teacher spends his time and energy focusing on the wrong kinds of people."

Miles sighs. "I wish Maria were with us. She would understand the Teacher; she can always interpret his intentions."

The men raise their glasses in a toast to Maria. Everyone drinks, but no one is happy.

"The religious authorities shouldn't be dismissed so easily," I say. "It's a mistake. He's already broken the law in their eyes. I've heard whispers."

"Of what?" Petra asks.

"Of death. They say he heals by the power of Satan and commits blasphemy when he forgives the sins of prostitutes and tax collectors. Not even our most esteemed prophets have claimed this authority. Only God can forgive sin."

The mood of the evening sours to an irrevocable point, causing the students to disband. Each man wanders away from the fire to sleep alone in the darkness. Eventually only Petra and I are left sitting by the flames. I seize the opportunity, saying, "You've begun to doubt his methods, haven't you?"

Petra sighs deeply. "I have...or at least I did. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm just a man, not a prophet like the Baptist. But something happened that convinced me otherwise," Petra says.

I flinch. "What? What happened?"

"It was late. All of you were sleeping. The Teacher woke me up. He took Miles, John, and me up onto the mountain. We followed for an hour in silence, with no idea where we were going. When we reached the top of our climb, he was transfigured before us."

"Transfigured?"

"His clothes became a dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them."

"How could that be?"

"And then, standing before us, were the two great prophets of our religion, talking with the Teacher."

"The great prophets have been dead for ages! How could you have seen them?"

Petra gazes into the fire, transfixed by the whipping flames and crackling wood. "I have no idea. The three of us were terrified. We didn't know what to say or do. But it was marvelous because the Teacher finally looked like the king we knew he is. He was radiant, emitting such power that King Charles himself would bow had he seen him." Petra looks directly at me and says, "That's when I was convinced—convinced to follow the Teacher wherever and however he leads. He's truly the Christ, our anointed one."

I say nothing. After a long beat of silence, I stand up and throw a bucket of water on Petra's fire. Then I stalk away into the night.

find the Teacher on his knees. He's deep in prayer on the bank of a nearby river. I turn sharply in another direction, but he calls out to me before I escape. "Can't sleep?" he says.

"No. Not tonight."

"Join me in me prayer, won't you?" I walk to where he's praying and kneel on the ground. The river flows calmly before us, and I try to let its beauty ease my anxiety. It doesn't work. The Teacher says, "At a river like this, the Baptist anointed me."

"Were you his student?"

"I went to him and was baptized for the forgiveness of sin, as our religion requires."

"What sin did you have, Teacher? If there were ever a righteous man, it is you. You condemn no one, not even the greatest of sinners."

"The Son of Man came to offer himself for the sins of many," he says. "We're all brothers and sisters, Deacon. It was good for the Baptist to cleanse me in the water, for I've come to be the firstborn of a new creation. I've come to lead us back to God."

I nod and pretend I understand him then change the subject. "You looked troubled today. Are you tired from the travel? I know the crowds have made it difficult for you to rest."

The Teacher grins. "You can see I'm troubled?"

"Only Miles smiles more than you. But today...you didn't look right."

"Miles." The Teacher grins again. "He's a happy man, isn't he?"

"He's a good man."

The Teacher nods, looks at the river, and allows his grin to disappear into its waters. "My friend is dead," he says.

"Who?"

"The Baptist, my cousin and mentor; the governor had him executed. My father died when I was young. The Baptist took it upon himself to make a man of me. He prepared the way for my ministry and for me. I owed him everything."

"I'm...sorry for your loss." We sit in silence and listen to the flowing river, the trickle of water running across the rocks in the shallows. An owl, high in the trees above, hoots softly. "My parents recently passed," I tell him. "I share in your grief."

The Teacher reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "Thank you."

"What happened to the Baptist?" I ask. "Why was he in prison?"

"The American governor of the South, who's in cahoots with the Kingdom, had him arrested."

"His crime?"

"Telling the truth. The Baptist was put in chains for nothing more than acting as a genuine prophet of the one true God. There was no crime. The governor is supposed to be a man who follows the one true God, but he stole his brother's wife and took her in marriage. The Baptist informed him this was unlawful and spoke publicly about the sin of this action. But the governor is a prideful man and didn't want to hear it. So he arrested the Baptist. His new wife was looking for an excuse to do away with him ever since."

"I'm surprised the governor waited so long. There was no law stopping his execution. The Kingdom wouldn't have interfered. They despise any Southerner who gains a following that might challenge their authority."

"Very true, but the governor feared the Baptist. He knew he was a righteous and holy man, so he protected him. The governor is an intellectual, and he loved to listen to the Baptist preach. He reveled in the challenge of trying to discern his perplexing sermons."

"Then why have him killed?"

"Because even smart men don't always think with their brains." He winks at me. "I believe you know what I'm talking about."

"I do," I say, nervous.

"Maria is unlike any woman I've known," the Teacher says. "A rare bird."

"Do you love her?" I say. "Sometimes I think every man here does."

The Teacher laughs. "You may be right about that. Look, Deacon, you need to make up your mind about your intentions."

"With what?"

"Maria."

I try hard not to show it, but my heart is lodged in my throat. I'm terrified that I may have to restrain the Teacher right here and now. Finally I say, "I don't understand."

"You have to make a decision. You must choose."

"Between...what?" I say, readying myself to jump him.

"Love and war."

"You're not making sense to me."

The Teacher's voice turns hard. "Either take Maria away from here or do what you came to do. You can't have both."

I don't know understand how the Teacher can know this. It's as if he knows my soul better than I do. Sometimes I catch him looking at me, and I'm certain he's discovered our plan. But if he did—if he truly understood our betrayal—he would do something about it. Why would he allow Jude and me to be here? This thought soothes me.

"Tell me what happened to the Baptist," I say, once again trying to change the subject. "I want to know how they killed him."

The Teacher looks out at the river as he speaks. "There was a party for the governor's birthday. All the Southern officers and officials gathered for the celebration. The daughter of the governor's new wife danced before the entire banquet. She was beautiful, and the governor was enchanted. Like I said, men don't always think with their brains. When she finished dancing, the governor said she could have anything she wanted, up to half his kingdom. So the girl rushed out of the party and asked her mother what she ought to request. And her mother said, 'The head of the Baptist.'"

"But the governor feared him?"

The Teacher laughs grimly. "You've been out West too long. The rulers in the South are nothing if not barbaric, Deacon. This is a government of domination. I'm told the governor was grieved, but he had no choice but to keep his oath. There were too many witnesses; he couldn't afford to lose face."

"So he sent in the order?"

"Within the hour the Baptist's head was brought on a platter into the banquet hall and presented to the young dancer, who then took it to her mother."

"Unbelievable."

"Like I said, you need to choose between love or war. Don't drag Maria into anything you'll regret. The Baptist's death is a sign of what's coming. perhaps for us all."

"Was he given a proper burial?"

"Yes. His students retrieved the body from prison and placed it in a tomb. Then came to give me the news."

"So his soul traveled peacefully to the afterlife?"