Project J (17 page)

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Authors: Sean Brandywine

Tags: #Religious Fiction

BOOK: Project J
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Myers paused for a breath.
 
“I hope I’m getting his meaning correctly.
 
These are things we never talked about.
 
I’ve never seen him open up like this before.”

 

“I’m sure you’re doing just fine,” she told him.
 
Then, to Jesus: “So you went to Jerusalem one more time.”

 

“It would be the right time and place.
 
I had to be near the Temple, the most holy place of all.
 
It had to be a time when there were many people to see.
 
I had to fulfill the prophecies exactly.”

 

“But you knew that you would be killed?” Tamara could not stop herself from asking.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 31:
 
Answers

 

 

 

“Yes, I knew.”
 
He paused for a moment.
 
“You know, I thought that it would be the hated Romans who would kill me.
 
But I was not surprised when it was the Pharisees who forced Pilate to issue the order.
 
They would have killed me themselves but for the law.
 
I don’t think Pilate understood at all the importance of what was happening.
 
He thought of me as a minor rebel, a nuisance, little more.
 
But this was as it should be.
 
As the prophecies foretold.”

 

“The prophecies!
 
Like the donkey you rode into Jerusalem on,” Tamara asked, “you arranged for that, didn’t you?”

 

Jesus actually smiled.
 
“I had friends who lived in Jerusalem.
 
They would help me because they understood and believed.
 
Yes, when I said go and find an ass at a certain place, I knew it would be waiting for my followers.
 
That was one of the prophecies.”

 

“Did the people really greet you as the coming Messiah?”

 

“Some did.
 
Some of the people coming for the festival from Galilee had heard of me.
 
And there were those who came with me.
 
They placed palm branches down and made a cheerful noise.
 
But, to tell the truth, we had to pass through a lot of people who ignored our procession.”

 

“And the Last Supper?
 
Did that really happen?”

 

“The last supper?
 
Oh, I know what you mean.
 
Yes, we had a celebration meal.
 
I told my followers again that they should remember God’s gift to them when they ate of bread and wine.
 
I told them to imagine that the bread was my body, and the wine my blood.
 
And I again told them that I was the Anointed One, but I doubt they all really believed that.”

 

At that point Myers interjected a question of his own, “In whose house was that meal?”

 

“Joseph.
 
My good friend, Joseph from Arimathea.
 
His house was within the walls of Jerusalem, not far from the Temple, in fact.”

 

“And what happened then?” Tamara asked.

 

“It was a time for thought.
 
I went to a nearby garden.
 
It was always easier to think when I was alone.
 
I had made Judas understand that he must inform the Pharisees of my location.
 
It was necessary for them to play their part in fulfilling the prophecies.
 
He did not want to go.
 
I had to yell at him.
 
He left with tears in his eyes.”

 

“And then...”

 

“The night grew late as we waited.
 
The other followers did not know what was to happen.
 
I could not trust them that far.
 
Some of them would have tried to prevent what had to happen.

 

“I went off to think.
 
I am ashamed to admit that I had my doubts.
 
Was I really doing what God wanted?”
 
Jesus turned to Myers and said, “I never wavered in believing that it was time for God to act.
 
I want you to know that.”

 

Then he lowered his head.
 
“The night became cold.
 
I prayed.
 
I remember how brightly the stars shone down.
 
How beautiful they were.
 
It came to pass that I felt myself calming.
 
A sense of peace came to me.
 
I was doing as God wished.
 
I was to be a part of his grand plan.
 
I was in his hands.”

 

He sighed deeply.
 
“So when Judas came with a group of men, including Temple police, I simply stood there.”

 

“Did he kiss you to show them who to arrest?” Tamara asked.

 

“He kissed me.
 
But it was because he loved me.
 
As I did him.
 
There were tears in his eyes.

 

“They took me.
 
As I had feared, a couple of my followers wanted to fight them, even grabbed swords.
 
But I stopped them.
 
If there was a fight and my followers killed or arrested, who would there be to spread the word?

 

“I went with the Temple Police.
 
I was taken before Caiaphas and a few of the Sanhedrin.
 
They all seemed angry, but most of all Caiaphas.
 
He seemed to take my teachings as a personal affront.
 
He ranted and raved and I said nothing.
 
I saw Joseph was there.”

 

“Joseph of Arimathea?”

 

“Yes.
 
But he could not defend me.
 
He knew what was to pass just as I did.
 
We had talked of this.
 
But that night it was the other Joseph who did all the talking.
 
It was to his house that I was taken.
 
I tried not to speak for I knew I had to force them to do what they must do.
 
The prophecies, you know.”

 

“What other Joseph?” Tamara asked.

 

“Joseph Caiaphas, the High Priest, of course.
 
He asked me if I had claimed to be the proper king of the Israel.
 
I said nothing.
 
It is true that I am a descendant of David, but I had not claimed to be the King of the Jewish people.

 

“Caiaphas grew angrier.
 
He slapped me and yelled at me to say something.
 
I held my words for I knew the right time was yet to come.

 

“When Caiaphas asked me if I was the Son of God, I could no longer hold my tongue.
 
‘You say I am,’ I told him.
 
Truth is, I had never claimed to be the Son of God.
 
I am the Son of Man, one who is chosen by God to do his purpose.
 
But Caiaphas did not ask me that, he asked if I were the Son of God.

 

“That was all he needed.
 
He ordered that I be taken to that Roman Prefect, Pilate, by the Temple Police.
 
It was not yet morning.
 
We walked through the empty streets of Jerusalem.
 
At Herod’s Palace I had to wait in the courtyard for a long time.
 
It was early in the morning, the sun barely visible when Pilate himself came out.”

 

Tamara could not help but cut in.
 
“Wasn’t Pilate staying in the Fortress of Antonio?
 
That’s where the Roman soldiers were.
 
Right?”

 

“Roman Perfect stayed in Herod’s Palace, as he called it.
 
It was a large house on the Western Hill.”

 

“Oh.”
 
So much for that theory, she thought.

 

“Pilate didn’t like being presented with a problem so early in the morning.
 
I think he had been drinking the night before and was not feeling well.
 
This man, in the fine robe with bad breath was the man who would fulfill part of the prophecies.
 
He slumped into a chair and looked at me with blurry eyes.
 
“Why do you bring this Jew before me?” he asked.
 
They told him that I had claimed to be the proper king of the Jewish people.
 
He put his hand on his forehead and lowered his face away from me.
 
“And are you King of the Jews?” he asked without even looking at me.
 
I spoke Greek well enough to understand what he was asking.
 
I said, ‘that is what you say’.
 
He groaned and, without looking up at me, said, “Crucify him,” then waved his hand in dismissal.”

 

Jesus sighed, and went on, “Pilate, who understood nothing of the coming Kingdom beyond that it was a myth favored by the Jews, could, however, understand a claim that I was king.
 
But he was not stupid.
 
I am sure he fully understood it was the priests who wanted me killed for some reason of their own.
 
And anything they wanted, he would normally be against.
 
It was a battle between him and the High Priest.
 
But that morning, he did not feel like continuing their battle, so he gave in and ordered me crucified.
 
He had no idea he was playing out his part of the prophecies.”

 

“Was there a crowd of people there?” Myers asked on his own.

 

“No.
 
There were many in the city for Passover, but this was early.

 

“I was taken from that house to the Roman fortress and flogged.
 
I had not expected that.
 
A Roman flogging is terrible.
 
I tried not to cry out, but when I felt the flesh of my back being torn, I fear I screamed.

 

“So there was no crowd who demanded your death?”

 

“I don’t remember any onlookers,” Jesus said.
 
“I do not think that Pilate cared what the people might have said anyway.
 
He let the priests have what they wanted.
 
Just as the prophecies said he would.”

 

“And then?” Tamara prompted again.
 
She wanted to keep him talking.
 
It was beyond fascinating listening to his words describing a scene from two thousand years ago.

 

“I was taken out.
 
They made me carry the cross beam I was to be crucified upon.
 
I had seen this done before, so I was not surprised by it.
 
They wanted the condemned to be shown to the people, so he had to walk through the city to his place of death.”

 

“Did anyone have to help you?” Tamara asked, thinking of the Simon of Cyrene.

 

“I fell.
 
The beam as so heavy and I was weak.
 
Then there was someone else carrying the beam.
 
My back hurt so much.”

 

Tamara felt a sense of excitement within.
 
This incredible narrative was approaching its climax.

 

“I stumbled all the way to Golgotha.
 
When they lay me down and spread my hands on the beam, I heard a scream.
 
I could not see, but I knew that it was one of the other two men as his wrists were being nailed to the wood.
 
Then it was my turn.
 
I tried not to, but I think I cried out.
 
The pain was bad but not as bad as my back felt when the whip tore my flesh.”

 

“Were you scared?” asked Tamara, having to endure a look from Myers before he translated.
 
He also told her, before asking Jesus if he felt fear, “His back has horrible wounds on it.
 
He was going to be killed in a most terrible way.”

 

Jesus replied, “I was, at first.
 
But I kept telling myself that I was doing as God wished.
 
It was something that had to be done in order for God’s Kingdom to come.
 
You understand?”

 

“I understand,” she told him with great sympathy truly felt.

 

“They lifted the beam up and fixed it on the post.
 
It hurt so much.
 
There was a peg in the post and I was told to put my feet on it.
 
I did.
 
That helped because I could stand on it.
 
They tied my feet to the post.

 

“After a while, someone put some thorns on my head.
 
They were big thorns and pierced my skin.”

 

His hand went up to his forehead where two small scars showed.
 
As his hand lifted, the sleeve slid down and Tamara could see the wrapping that still covered the terrible wounds on his wrist.

 

“After that, someone put a wooden plank on the post above my head.
 
I could not see, but I heard one of the soldiers say, ‘King of the Jews.’
 
The Romans always put a sign telling why the person was being crucified.

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