The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ (27 page)

“Why do you call Me good?” Jesus asked. “None is good save one, God.”

Being familiar with the Scriptures, Jemuel knew He was referring to the ancient writing which labeled the Most High, “The good one of the world.”

“You know the commandments,” Jesus continued. “Do not commit adultery. Do not kill. Do not steal. Do not bear false witness. Honor your father and mother.”

“All these I have kept from my youth up,” Jemuel protested.

Jesus looked into the young ruler’s heart. He saw a man whose pride in his own accomplishments and his possessions threatened to destroy his soul, even though he was extremely pious by the traditional standards of his faith.

“Yet you lack one thing,” Jesus told him gently. “Sell all you have and distribute to the poor and you shall have treasures in heaven. Then come and follow Me.”

Jemuel understood at last the reason for the disturbance of his spirit. He was proud of his riches and of his position in the community. To obey Jesus would mean giving up all he held dear and he slowly turned away, his head bowed; even with all his strength, he did not possess the courage to follow Jesus’ advice.

With sadness in His eyes, Jesus watched him go. How near this young ruler of the congregation had been to the true kingdom of God and treasures greater than any on earth! And yet he could not give up what he thought were his possessions, the worldly goods that really possessed
him
.

“How hardly shall they who have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven!” Jesus said to the waiting disciples. “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”

“Who then can be saved?” one of the disciples asked.

“The things which are impossible with men are possible with God,” Jesus reminded him cryptically.

“Lo, we have left all and followed You,” Peter said to Jesus.

“Truly I say to you,” Jesus said, “no man has left house or parents or brethren or wife or children for the kingdom of God’s sake who shall not receive manifold more in this present time, and in the world to come life everlasting.”

The others had already started along the road, but Jesus called them back so that He could answer more fully by means of a parable the question Jemuel had raised.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a man who was a householder and went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard,” He told them. “When he had agreed with the laborers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. He went out about the third hour and saw others standing idle in the market place and said to them: ‘Go also into the vineyard and whatsoever is right I will give you.’ And they went their way.

“Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour and did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle and said to them, ‘Why do you stand here all day idle?’

“They said to him, ‘Because no man has hired us,’ and he said, ‘Go also into the vineyard and whatever is right, that you will receive.’

“When evening was come, the lord of the vineyard said to his steward, ‘Call the laborers and give them their hire, beginning from the last to the first.’ When they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny. But when the first came they supposed that they should have received more and they likewise received every man a penny. When they had received it, they murmured against the good man of the house saying, ‘These last have worked but one hour and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden and heat of the day.’

“But he answered one of them and said, ‘Friend, I do you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a penny? Take what is yours and go your way; I will give to the last even as unto you. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with my own? Is your eye evil because I am good?’

“So the last shall be first and the first last,” Jesus said as He ended the parable, “for many are called but few chosen.”

The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.

Matthew 20:28

It had been a long time since Mary of Magdala had visited Jerusalem for the Passover. She vividly remembered journeying as a child with a festive party of Galileans through the valley of the Jordan and along the steep climb from Jericho to the Holy City. It had been exciting to run ahead with the other children, one of the few times when boys and girls were allowed to play together after they became old enough for school. But of the ceremony itself she remembered only the long lines of marching men who were blowing trumpets and clashing cymbals loudly in the warm spring sunshine.

She had buried her head in her mother’s skirts when men in white robes already spattered with blood threw lambs to the floor and cut the animals’ throats. She remembered crying out in protest and being reproved by her mother. She had a vague memory of a hillside afterwards dotted with the dying coals of many campfires, and of voices lifted in the beautiful melody of the hallel floating through the darkness.

Until that day in the temple when Jesus had protected her from the Pharisees and then had cast out demons from her. Since then Mary had spent much of her time helping the disciples look after the sick and afflicted—the lame, the halt, and the blind who flocked to Jesus to be healed. They had needed help afterward, too, for many of these unfortunates now had nothing at all; deserving no more alms now that they were well, they found it hard to keep alive. Some, when they discovered that it was easier to beg than to work for a living, had demanded that Jesus give back their afflictions to them.

What time Mary could spare, she had spent in reading the ancient writings again, the moving story of how a motley group of tribes had been welded into a nation under Moses and Joshua, of the judges and kings who had followed them, of how they had finally found a king in David who led them to success as a nation, and of the turbulent events which had followed his reign.

It was a warm spring afternoon when Simon Peter trudged into the shady courtyard of Mary’s home. She had been planting flowers in a bed near the fountain when she heard the gate open and saw the tall familiar figure coming across the courtyard toward her.

“Simon!” she cried, running to embrace him. “Is the Master with you?” Peter shook his head and sank down on a bench while Mary went to bring a cup of cool water for him. The hem of his robe was caked with dust and so were his legs. He drank the water before he answered her question and wiped his face with the towel she hurried to bring him.

“I left the Master in Peraea,” he said. “He will not come to this part of Galilee again before going to Jerusalem for the Passover.”

“Is it true that He raised Lazarus from the dead in Bethany?”

“Yes. Four days after he died.”

“How could anybody doubt Jesus after that? Now Jerusalem will surely acclaim Him as the Messiah.”

“Only if we force them to do it. That is why I have come.”

“But how? You know Jesus would not agree to violence of any sort.”

“There will be none,” Peter assured her. “At least not begun by us. Some would like it; Simon the Zealot, perhaps, and Judas, and one or two others. They believe once the sword is lifted the people will rise up and force the corrupt priests and the Romans out of Judea. Then Herod would be driven from Galilee and the land would be free.”

“Jesus does not want that,” Mary protested. “You are so close to Him, Simon. Surely you know that?”

“So I told them,” the big man said. “But there is another way. If the Master enters the city at the head of a large enough procession, the authorities will have no choice except to acknowledge Him as the Messiah.”

“Do you think such a crowd will escort Him?”

“If we work hard enough to bring together all those who have been healed by Him and love Him.”

Mary shook her head doubtfully. “How many thanked Jesus for healing them? Do you remember His parable about those invited to the feast who all begged to be excused?”

“There are enough of us who know He is the Messiah,” Simon said confidently. “And He is gaining hundreds of new followers in Peraea every day.”

“I hope you are right. What can I do?”

“When the authorities see that we are accompanied by a large group of women, they cannot pretend that we intend to use violence. The women will be your responsibility.”

“I will send word to all I know,” Mary promised. “And I will bring Jesus’ mother to Jerusalem, if she will come.”

“Good!” said Simon, rising to his feet. “I will leave that task in your hands then.”

“Rest a while. I can see that you are weary.”

“I have many people to see before I go back to Peraea,” Simon told her. “This will be a procession such as has never before been seen in Jerusalem, Mary. Caiaphas will tremble at the sight of it.”

He was at the gate of the courtyard when Mary spoke again. “Simon,” she called. “Does Jesus know about this plan of yours?”

“Not the details, but surely He would not mind those who love Him journeying together to Jerusalem for the Passover.”

“I mean, will He let you proclaim Him the Messiah there?”

“He can hardly object to that either from so great a multitude.”

“What of His prophecies that He will die in Jerusalem?”

“He was speaking in the form of a parable,” Simon assured her. “I think He meant that He will put away His old self when He becomes the Messiah.”

“But He has spoken of it several times lately,” she insisted.

“So has He spoken of the mustard seed,” Simon said, a little irritated by her persistence. “You know the Master often repeats parables to different groups. You will join us then in Peraea on the way to Jerusalem, with as many women as you can gather?”

“I will do my best,” Mary promised. “And pray that nothing goes wrong.”

“Nothing can go wrong,” the tall fisherman assured her confidently. “Jesus will enter Jerusalem in triumph, surrounded by a multitude of people. The whole city will be His.”

Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, was a woman of great pride. She kept the Law with her household, but she also adhered strictly to the teachings of Jesus that the righteousness of those who were His followers must exceed even the righteousness of the Pharisees. She disliked dissembling, but tonight she did not tell her husband what was in her heart until he had finished his evening meal. Having servants, they ate together, not the men first as was customary in most Jewish households. When Chuza had finished the excellent meal and had washed his hands and dried them, Joanna spoke.

“I had a visitor today,” she said casually. “Mary Magdalene.”

“We do not see Mary often enough,” Chuza said warmly. “I am glad you invited her to come.”

“I didn’t invite her. There is something she wants me to do.”

“Mary would not ask you to do anything wrong. You can be sure of that.”

“Then you will not mind if I go?” she asked.

“Go where?”

“Up to Jerusalem for the Passover. With Mary and the other women who follow Jesus.”

“Was that why she came?”

“Yes.”

Chuza rubbed his chin. “I had a visitor, too—Simon Peter. And he asked me to do the same thing.”

“Did you agree?” Joanna asked eagerly. “We have not been to Jerusalem for the Passover in several years. It would be good if we could go together.”

“Did Mary tell you why she wants the women to go just now?” he asked.

“So the chief priests will see how many people follow Jesus. Then they cannot deny any longer that He is the Messiah.”

Chuza nodded. “That is only part of it. Simon wants to convince Caiaphas and the Romans that Jesus means no violent overturn of the government. The presence of one of Herod’s chief stewards in the crowd following Him would go a long way to do that.”

“Did you tell Simon you would go?”

Chuza shook his head. “This is an important decision, Joanna. One that may affect our whole lives.”

“How can that be?”

“If Jesus is to be acclaimed the Messiah in Jerusalem, Herod must respect Him even more than he respects the high priest and the Sadducees. Herod is more Roman than Jew, but he is no fool. Jesus will wield great power over the people, and unless Herod at least pretends to respect and accept Him, there could be a rebellion here in Galilee.”

“Then Herod should be glad that his steward from this part of Galilee is a follower of Jesus.”

“I said
if
Jesus is acclaimed the Messiah, and without violence,” Chuza reminded her. “Remember the way Pontius Pilate put down the Galileans led by Barabbas. We have to think what will happen if the plans of Simon and the others fail.”

“How can they fail? Jesus possesses the power of God. We know that from the way He healed our son.”

“Jesus does have the power,” Chuza agreed. “But will He use it? He never has used it before for purposes like this. The crowds in the temple have almost proclaimed Him the Messiah several times, but He would not allow them to do it.”

“Then I did wrong in telling Mary I would go?” Joanna said.

“No,” Chuza told her. “I have been thinking about this ever since Simon came to me. Jesus gave us the life of our son; we can never repay Him for that. Whatever happens at the Passover, He will need in Jerusalem all His friends and those who love Him. We will go up to Jerusalem together in the company of Jesus.”

“But suppose something goes wrong and Herod punishes you?”

“The Master has warned His disciples that all who follow Him will have to suffer for His sake. If it must come to us, too, then it must come.”

Salome, the wife of Zebedee, was proud of her sons and rightly so. They were tall and strong, and from boyhood had hauled in the nets in company with their good friends Simon and Andrew, handling their own boat and holding their place with the other fishermen. No others on the lake pulled in such weighty catches and none loaded such heavy boatloads at Zebedee’s piers. In marrying Zebedee, she had made a good marriage, Salome thought now. His fisheries were among the largest on the lake; he was a man of substance in the community, an elder and a ruler of the congregation respected both for his wealth and his piety.

Salome often told herself that she had done much better than her sister Mary. Mary’s husband, Joseph, had never risen above operating his carpenter’s shop in Nazareth. In fact, Mary had found it difficult at times to feed and clothe her family from what Joseph made, and Salome had occasionally helped her out. Of course, in a way it was Mary’s fault for giving part of her own small stores to the wife of Joseph’s brother Alpheus, particularly after Joseph’s death, when Jesus became head of the family.

Salome was an aggressive woman and when Jesus lived in Nazareth He had seemed to her too quiet and unassuming to be a success in any trade. It was true that He worked hard and gave Mary no trouble. Sometimes Salome herself could have wished that her own sons resembled Him in that respect; not for nothing were James and John called “Sons of Thunder” by the other young men around the lake. They were inclined to be violent, particularly in their hatred of Herod Antipas and his Roman masters. More than once there had been sudden outbreaks of violence in Capernaum in which they had been the ringleaders, along with the tall Simon and his stockier brother Andrew. Salome knew little of the details concerning such events; only occasionally did her sons mention them. But she gathered that Simon with his great strength had more than once got them out of dangerous scrapes.

Salome had not been disturbed when James and John had become disciples of John the Baptist. Zebedee could spare them from the boats and the nets part of the time, and with John preaching to thousands at Bethabara, it was good for her sons to be known as leaders among the Baptist’s followers. And if John were really the Messiah, as many claimed, her sons might occupy high places in the new kingdom when it was proclaimed.

When James and John had come back to Capernaum from Bethabara with the news that her own nephew, Jesus of Nazareth, was the Messiah, Salome had been thunderstruck. She had discussed it with Zebedee and decided that this could be only a passing fancy, perhaps born of their sons’ disappointment when the Baptist had refused to let himself be named the Messiah.

The whole idea was absurd, Salome told herself. Jesus was the son of Joseph and her sister Mary. She did vaguely remember Mary’s mention of some strange events connected with the child’s birth, but then Mary had always been highly imaginative, and Salome had attributed all of it to a young girl’s fancy.

When James and John, together with Simon and Andrew, had laid down their nets after the largest catch ever recorded in the region and set out to follow Jesus, it was a heavy blow to Salome’s ambitions for them, as well as to Zebedee’s hopes that his sons would eventually take over their father’s prosperous fishing establishments. He and Salome argued and pleaded, but in vain; in the end they had to accept that James and John were now disciples of Mary’s son. Eventually both had come home and returned to work, but it had been a bitter humiliation to their parents, and for long months Salome had nursed a deep feeling of resentment against her sister and Jesus.