The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ (35 page)

Judas could not forget that last anguished cry of Jesus, “You shall not see Me henceforth, till you say, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.’” If this meant that Jesus would not return until the chief priests and the Pharisees named Him the Son of Man and welcomed Him to the city, then, Judas was convinced, the cause was already lost.

That Jesus could still be proclaimed Messiah and King in Jerusalem, Judas did not question for a moment. But it would have to be with such a blinding manifestation of glory and power that even the high priest could not deny His identity any longer. And Judas had seen no sign that Jesus intended any such thing. Nor did he see it now as the Master came to the Garden of Gethsemane where He loved to stop and pray for a while in the early evening before passing around the shoulder of the mountain to Bethany. Jesus was still sad as He gathered those He loved most around Him, and Judas had never seen His face so ravaged by pain and grief as now.

Simon Peter asked the question that was foremost in the minds of all of them. “Tell us what shall be the sign of Your coming and of the end of the world?” he asked, meaning the world of Rome and Israel as it existed then and the new glory of the kingdom in which Jesus would rule as Christ and King.

“Take heed that you are not deceived,” Jesus answered somberly. “For many shall come in My name saying, ‘I am Christ, and the time draws near.’ Do not follow after them, but when you shall hear of wars and commotions, be not terrified, for these things must first come to pass. The end is not by and by, but nation shall rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom. And great earthquakes shall be in divers places and famines and pestilences and fearful sights and great signs shall there be from heaven.

“Before all these,” He warned, “they shall lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and into prisons, to be brought before kings and rulers for My name’s sake. And it shall turn to you for a testimony.

“Settle it therefore in your hearts not to meditate before what you shall answer,” He advised them, “for I will give you a mouth and wisdom which all your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist. And you shall be betrayed both by parents and brethren and kinsfolk and friends. Some of you they shall cause to be put to death, and you shall be hated of all men for My name’s sake, but not a hair of your head shall perish. In your patience possess your souls and when you shall see Jerusalem encompassed with armies, then know that its desolation is nigh.

“Then let them which are in Judea flee to the mountains,” He continued, “and let them who are in the midst of it depart, and let not them that are in the countries enter into it. For these will be days of vengeance that all things which are written may be fulfilled. There shall be great distress in the land and wrath upon this people. And they shall fall by the edge of the sword and shall be led away captive into all nations and Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles, until the time of the Gentiles be fulfilled.”

The disciples could not believe He was speaking other than in the form of a parable, for Jerusalem with the shining golden dome of the temple lay in full view across the Valley Kedron, the softened rays of the setting sun giving it a beauty which it possessed perhaps at only one other time, with the coming of the dawn. It was incredible that this lovely city, which they devoutly believed He would tomorrow choose as His own, could be destroyed and that they should undergo the tortures He had described.

Now His voice changed and He began to teach them with a true parable.

“Behold the fig tree and all the trees,” He said, the sweep of His hand taking in the wooded slope of the garden and the green of the olive and fig trees. “When they shoot forth you see and know of your own selves that summer is near at hand. So likewise when you see these things come to pass, know you that the kingdom of God is near at hand.

“Then shall the kingdom of heaven be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went forth to meet the bridegroom,” He told them. “Five of them were wise and five foolish. They that were foolish took their lamps but no oil with them, but the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps. While the bridegroom tarried, they all slept and at midnight there was a cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom comes! Go out to meet him.’

“Then all those virgins rose and trimmed their lamps and the foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out.’ But the wise answered saying, ‘Not so, lest there not be enough for us and you. Go to them that sell, and buy for yourselves.’

“While they went to buy, the bridegroom came, and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage and the door was shut. Afterward the other virgins came; saying, ‘Lord, Lord, open to us.’ But he answered and said, ‘Truly I say to you, I know you not.’

“Watch therefore,” He counseled them, “for you know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of Man comes. Then shall the King say to them on His right hand, ‘Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave Me meat. I was thirsty and you gave Me drink. I was a stranger and you took Me in. Naked and you clothed Me. I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.’

“And the righteous shall answer Him saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry and fed You? Or thirsty and gave You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in? Or naked and clothed You? When did we see You sick or in prison and came to You?’ The King will answer them, ‘Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these My brothers, you have done it to Me.’

“Then He shall say also to them on the left hand, ‘Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave Me no meat. I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink. I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me.’

“Then shall they also answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and did not minister to You?’ And He shall answer them saying, ‘Inasmuch as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to Me.’ And they shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous shall go into life eternal.”

For a moment after He finished speaking, Jesus’ eyes were fixed upon the beautiful city where the lights of evening were now beginning to wink into being. Finally He rose to His feet and said almost matter-of-factly, “You know that after two days is the feast of the Passover and the Son of Man is betrayed to be crucified.”

Without saying more, He left the garden and started along the path that joined the road leading to Bethany. The disciples were somber as they followed Him. Although they did not understand His words, they could not help but know from His manner that He had been warning them against some awful tribulation which was soon to occur, something very different from their own plans for the remaining days of the Passover season.

It was already growing dark when they left the garden and no one noticed that Judas did not immediately follow the party but remained behind. In the now empty and silent garden, he was alone as he considered Jesus’ actions that day and the words He had just spoken concerning His coming death.

As keeper of the purse, Judas had been largely concerned with the mundane affairs of Jesus’ ministry; he had never really understood its spiritual aspects. Like others, he had been thinking in terms of an earthly kingdom in which Jesus would rule Israel as the Messiah, with political, as well as spiritual, control over the nation. And to a man who had grown up in the little Judean village of Kerioth, the prospect of controlling the purse strings for the entire kingdom had seemed almost breathtaking in its implications. He had seized upon it eagerly when given an opportunity to become one of the disciples, and on occasion had not hesitated to help himself to the common purse.

Now Judas saw his hopes crumbling, destroyed by Jesus’ refusal to assume His rightful place as ruler of Israel. After the way Jesus had humiliated the chief priests, the scribes, and the leading Pharisees before the people that day, it was a foregone conclusion that the anger of Caiaphas and his followers would be vented not upon Jesus alone but also upon His followers, including Judas himself.

To the small-souled man of Kerioth, there was only one logical course: to divorce himself from Jesus in such a way that he could be sure at least of saving his own life.

Still Judas hesitated, held by a small thread of loyalty to the leader who had lifted him from obscurity. He knew that the whole party was to dine that evening in Bethany at the home of a man called Simon who had been a leper until cleansed by Jesus. Judas had yet to hear from Jesus’ own lips that He would not become King of the Jews. Sometime during the evening, the man of Kerioth determined he would demand an avowal of this, or its denial.

The guests had already gathered when Judas reached Simon’s house in Bethany, but a place had been held for him at the table where Jesus, as the honored guest, reclined with the other disciples, His host, and Lazarus. The house was filled, for Simon was wealthy and had invited many guests. Most of those present believed they were taking part in a coronation feast for the next King of the Jews and it was a joyous and festive occasion.

Sensitive always to Jesus’ thoughts and feelings because of her great love for Him and her instinctive womanly understanding, Mary of Bethany did not join the other women who, with her sister Martha, were serving at the feast. She had brought with her her most treasured possession—a jar of fine pottery such as the potters of Jerusalem fashioned, filled with an ointment made of spikenard, a rare and precious essence. Lazarus had brought it for her on his return from a journey some time ago, and she had treasured it ever since.

The disciples and Lazarus were seated together around one table with the other guests occupying tables in other parts of the large room. The women were constantly going and coming as they served, and Mary went unnoticed as she approached Jesus with the jar of ointment in her hand. But when Mary opened the jar and, pouring the ointment into her hand, knelt and anointed Jesus’ feet, the rich fragrance quickly filled the room, calling attention to the scene.

Kneeling before Jesus, Mary let down the lustrous masses of her hair to wipe His feet. At the startling act, a sudden silence filled the room. The fragrance of the precious spikenard now spread to the kitchen and the women within crowded to the door to see what had happened. The silence was broken by the angry voice of Judas of Kerioth.

“Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred pence and given to the poor?” he demanded sharply.

A murmur of agreement came from some of the disciples, and even Lazarus looked at his sister in amazement, unable to understand why she had used such a rare jar of ointment to anoint Jesus’ feet.

“Let her alone,” Jesus said sharply. “She has kept this against the day of My burial. The poor you have with you always, but Me you will not always have.”

Jesus’ eyes were fixed upon Judas as He spoke. The man of Kerioth was sure now that Jesus knew of his small thefts from the common purse. He dropped his eyes to hide his guilt while a deep sense of shame and a rising anger at being publicly reprimanded burned within him.

Judas said no more, but his anger had burned away the slender thread of loyalty that held him to Jesus, and his active mind began devising a way in which to make sure that his own life would be saved when Caiaphas and his agents took Jesus to destroy Him. Two courses were open. One was to leave Jerusalem at once, but Judea was his home and as a known follower of Jesus he would certainly be hunted down and arrested. The other appealed both to his greed and his consuming desire to repay Jesus for the public reprimand. Judas chose the second course.

Caiaphas had called a meeting of the Priestly Council in the private audience chamber of his palace for the morning after Jesus had dined with Simon, he who had been a leper. The higher temple officials were there, together with the heads of the various courses of priests then serving in the ritual of worship. Jochai represented the rabbis, Elam the Pharisees. Neither Nicodemus nor Joseph of Arimathea had been invited to this meeting, since Caiaphas wished no one to cast doubt upon the wisdom of the course he had decided to follow. Abiathar was not present, having been sent to watch for the coming of Jesus and His party to the temple.

Surprisingly, Caiaphas came into the chamber with a pleased look on his face and rapped upon the table for order. At the sight of his obvious satisfaction, the others turned to him eagerly to hear what had caused it.

“The Nazarene has condemned Himself at last,” Caiaphas announced. “Yesterday, when He was leaving the temple, Jesus was heard to say of it, ‘Do you see these great buildings? There shall not be left one stone upon another that shall not be thrown down.’”

“He did blaspheme against the temple!” Elam cried. “I heard it myself as I was coming down the steps.”

“Many others heard Him, too,” Caiaphas confirmed. “And will swear to it!”

“To blaspheme against the temple is the same as blaspheming against the Most High,” Jochai agreed. “The man has condemned Himself out of His own mouth.”

There was a chorus of assent and the room buzzed with excited conversation until Caiaphas held up his hand for silence. “I have called you here to decide how best to take the Nazarene prisoner,” he said.

“Why not announce publicly that He blasphemed against the temple and said it would be destroyed?” Elam suggested.

“The merchants will surely be against Him when they hear of it.”

“And the artisans,” another agreed. “There is hardly a person in Jerusalem whose welfare is not closely connected in some way with the temple.”

“We can depend upon the Jerusalem Jews to denounce the Nazarene,” Caiaphas said. “They have already suffered loss because of the way He has stirred up the crowd, but we must first take Him by stealth somewhere outside the temple.”