Take This Cup (40 page)

I did not hear the words Jesus spoke to the boy, but in an instant, the eyes of Hallelujah were opened, and the people went wild with joy.

A strong man grasped me, and I found myself being passed from hand to hand above the heads of the people. My mother embraced me when I reached the steps. “Oh, Nehemiah! My leg is healed! Oh, look what he has done!”

From every corner of the Temple Mount children were passed hand over hand until a chorus surrounded Jesus. Timothy, Red, Jesse, and Obed joined Ha-or Tov, Avel, and Emet. My friends embraced me. A hundred other children joined us as Jesus touched and healed everyone who had come to the steps.

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Hallelujah! Sing praises to our King!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

There was no silencing the crowd.

Moments later the chief priests and teachers of the law, with the Temple guards around them, elbowed their way to the platform where Jesus stood.

Caiaphas, the chief priest, raised his arms, demanding silence. The people obeyed and a hush fell over us, not because anyone was afraid, but rather because we did not know how anyone could object to the miracles happening before our eyes.

Caiaphas’s face was hard and cruel as he challenged Jesus, “Do you hear what these children are saying?”

Jesus’ voice was clear and pleasant as he replied, “Yes. I hear them. And have you never read, ‘From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise’?”
¹

The captain of the guard stepped forward and demanded, “All right, the show is over. Break it up and go back to your
places. By order of the Sanhedrin, the Temple gates will be closed until morning.”

Jesus was surrounded by his disciples and escorted out before I had a chance to thank him.

Papa and Rabbi Kagba found us. My mother walked from the Temple that day without a limp and without pain for the first time. Red, Timothy, Jesse, Obed, and Hallelujah came home with us to the Street of the Weavers.

Over dinner my mother asked Hallelujah, now that he could see, if he might like to become a weaver of prayer shawls. And that is how there came to be five apprentices.

It was Rabbi Kagba who brought the chatter of excitement back to reality that evening.

“When I was a young man and saw the signs in the heavens that foretold the birth of a King in Israel, I came here from afar with other men who had also read the signs. What we found at the news of the newborn King was not joy among the rulers of this city and this nation, but envy and murder in their hearts. Can we believe that anything has changed?”

My father leaned forward and searched Kagba’s face for an answer. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. Jesus gave every miraculous sign today—from the healing of my Sarah and giving sight to this boy, Hallelujah—but it wasn’t enough for the high priest or the Herodians.”

The rabbi answered, “They will try to kill him, just as they did when he was a baby.”

Mama gasped, “Oh no! Please say it can’t be!”

Rabbi Kagba replied, “Even though Jesus has done all these miraculous signs in their presence, they still will not believe
in him. This fulfills the word of the prophet Isaiah, ‘Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?’
²
For this reason they won’t believe because, as Isaiah says elsewhere, ‘He has blinded their eyes and hardened their hearts, so they can neither see with their eyes, nor understand with their hearts, nor turn—and I would heal them.’ ”
³

I asked, “Please tell me why. What does it mean? Every good thing that happened today, and every day with Jesus!”

The rabbi addressed me patiently. “Isaiah saw Jesus’ glory and spoke about him. Even now, I have heard that many among the leaders believe in Jesus. But, because of the Pharisees, they won’t admit their faith, for fear they’ll be put out of the synagogue.”

“Like they did with Peniel, who was born blind,” I said.

Mama added, “They love the praise of men more than praise from God.”

“True,” agreed the rabbi. “So true.”

My father, a man of action, asked, “What can we do? How can we help him?”

It was Timothy who came up with the answer. “Jesus needs spies who can tell him what they are planning.”

Red had an idea. “Link boys? Us Sparrows are nothing but poor beggars in the eyes of the rich rulers.”

“They think we don’t have ears to hear their plots,” Jesse agreed.

Hallelujah added, “They talk in front of me about important matters as if I am made of stone. I might have been blind, but I still had ears.”

Obed agreed. “When we carry the torches and lead them through the city, they continue discussing whatever the council discussed in privacy.”

My father snapped his fingers. “Of course! You boys! You can do it. Information—this is the way we can help protect Jesus.”

After supper, I went out with the five Sparrows, hopefully to carry torches for exalted rulers who traveled the city after dark.

We waited on a corner just outside the Chamber of Hewn Stone, where the religious rulers met to discuss the matter of Jesus and his followers. Lamps burned within. Their meeting continued for long hours.

By and by the door opened and light pooled on the pavement. A solitary figure slipped out. For a moment, I thought I recognized him as one of the twelve close friends of Jesus, the disciple called Judas Iscariot.

A voice from within the hall addressed him. “You should at least think about it . . . as a patriot, eh? We know you are a patriot above all. Remember what was said tonight. It is better for one man to perish for the sake of our entire nation.”

“I will,” the man answered. “Yes, I promise I will . . . at least think about it.”

I hoped that the fellow would hire us to link for him so we could learn more, but he deliberately turned away from the light of our torches and vanished into the shadows.

We had heard that Jesus and his band had returned to stay at the home of Lazarus in Bethany. I decided it was impossible that one of Jesus’ closest friends would be here tonight, so I put Judas Iscariot out of my thoughts.

Timothy hissed to Red and Hallelujah, “You two, follow him! See where he goes. Report back to Nehemiah’s house.”

They sprinted into the darkness in pursuit.

Minutes passed. Suddenly the great doors gaped wide, illuminating the square with light as pompous men and their servants and scribes flooded out.

“Here they come.” Timothy clutched his torch and thrust one into my hand. “A link, sirs?”

I followed his script. “A link?”

“A torch to light your way home?”

Two pompous, red-faced men hailed us. And three others called for Jesse and Obed. We had struck gold!

Timothy whispered eagerly, “We’ve got Caiaphas and his father-in-law, Annas! High priest. Hold your torch high and forward. He likes the shadows pushed back.”

The two men barely acknowledged us. They spoke to one another as though we had no brains or ears to hear them and no voices to repeat what they said.

Caiaphas declared, “Herod Antipas is as eager as we are.” Then he commanded us, “Guide us to the palace of Herod Antipas.”

Annas said, “This is getting us nowhere. Look how the whole world has gone after Jesus.”

Caiaphas snorted. “They’ll be a rabble. Murder us in our beds if we don’t put a stop to them.”

I held my torch high in imitation of Timothy. He knew the route to the palace by heart. He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows as the conversation of our customers spilled out a treasure of information.

Caiaphas tugged his beard. “It was Lazarus. The last straw. There will be no stopping Jesus unless Lazarus is dead. They all come to see Lazarus!”

“As much as Jesus, I think.”

“Our assassins have failed. Time and again. No one can get near him.”

“I say we start with Lazarus. Silence him and all the glory fades. Then we discredit Jesus. Say it was all a great hoax.”

“Gamaliel and Nicodemus oppose us.”

“We question Jesus in matters of the law, and he manages to outsmart us every time. A clever fellow.”

“He turns every point back on us—a verbal sword in the heart.”

“A real sword would put an end to his clever talk.”

“We can’t get anyone near enough. He is surrounded by bodyguards. Fanatics. His disciples would die for him.”

“Die
with
him, you mean.”

“We’ll have to arrest him by night. When the people are asleep and unaware.”

“A trial. With judges in attendance whom we know will vote with us.”

“We can bribe witnesses. We will see to it that those in the council who favor Jesus are delayed . . . distracted . . . prevented . . . from attending our next meeting.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Caiaphas smile. “And then there’s the traitor in Jesus’ own camp.”

“We can’t be sure of him.”

“I think we can. He will turn. He is disillusioned already. Not well liked by the others, I hear. I tell you, he will do whatever we tell him.”

Timothy nudged me as we reached the steps of Herod’s estate.

Silently I put out my hand to receive our payment. The coins dropped in my palm. Neither of the rulers looked at our faces. They continued to talk over us as they pulled the bellrope.

Annas declared, “Lazarus is a problem. He must die and remain a dead man.”

“Herod can see to that. His court is filled with assassins.”

The gates swung open for the conspirators. We stood rooted with our torches high as the two gained entry, and the portal slammed shut.

Timothy and I pivoted on our heels and jogged to the next street. “Don’t say anything,” Timothy warned. “Every shadow hides an informant.”

And so we hurried home to the Weavers’ Street. One by one the others returned. We gathered in the lower room with my parents and Rabbi Kagba, and each of us gave our report of the murderous treachery that grew more fierce as the hours passed.

That night I heard Rabbi Kagba’s footsteps pacing on the rooftop above the little room where I slept with five Sparrows. From north to south and back again the old man tramped. I knew he was worried about what was coming. So was I. I remembered the stories of the old man who had once been young.

Thirty-three years before, Rabbi Kagba had lain awake beneath the stars of Jerusalem with a dozen other great men from the East. The worry of imminent doom had raced through his mind and made him rise and pace and wonder what was to be done.

The slaughter of all the baby boys in Bethlehem and the escape of only one to Egypt had taught him something. The nightmare of murder had not been mere imagination to be brushed away with the morning light. Though the death of only one was the goal, the lives of many might be lost in the battle. It was indeed
possible that men could accomplish evil so profound that the human heart could hardly comprehend it.

In Ramah, the cry of Rachel weeping for her children resounded even now. Jesus, sole survivor of the wrath of demon kings and princes, had grown up to become the Redeemer they hated and feared. He had returned to banish them from their dark thrones. The murderous creatures that ruled the hearts of rulers now made plans to finish what the soldiers of Herod the Great Butcher King had begun. “Jesus must die,” they hissed. “And all those who follow him.”