The Crown and the Cross: The Life of Christ (9 page)

The evening meal was ready when Jesus reached home and He paused only to wash His hands before sitting down to eat. Some people in Nazareth had adopted the Roman method of reclining around a table for their meal but since in this household they ate as the Jews had been eating since the earliest days, they now sat on the floor of well-swept earth around the large dish in which had been cooked the savory stew that Mary had prepared in honor of Jesus’ birthday. The men ate first, as was the custom, while the girls and Mary waited just outside the doorway to hear the talk and be ready to supply more bread when needed, or to fill cups with the thin vinegar used instead of water on festive occasions such as this.

Like the others, Jesus dipped into the dish with a small piece of round flat cake and filled a bowl for Himself. When He finished, He carefully cleaned the bowl with a piece of bread which was called the sop. During a meal when a loved one was present who had been absent for a long time, it was the custom to pass the sop to him as a token of affection. Dates and preserved figs were enjoyed afterward when the men withdrew to the side of the room to talk while the women now ate from the big dish.

It had been evident throughout the meal that James had something of importance to say, but he kept silent until they finished eating. Now, after each member of the household had brought a small gift to Jesus in token of the occasion, James cleared his throat importantly.

“I talked to a traveler from Jerusalem today,” he announced. “He told me something of our cousin John.”

He had the attention of his audience at once. From time to time reports had come of the years John had spent with the Essene community at the northern end of the Sea of Judgment. The Essenes had increased in number steadily throughout the years and now were often seen in towns outside Jerusalem. Strange stories, too, were told about them; it was said that in the larger communities, like the one where John had lived, dozens of men worked constantly at copying the ancient writings of the Torah and the prophets upon scrolls of thin leather or engraving them upon sheets of copper. These were sealed in earthen jars and mysteriously carried away to some hiding place of which it was said only the leaders of the Essenes knew the location. In some towns there were Essene teachers, highly learned men who helped with the schools which every community was required by the law to maintain.

In becoming an Essene, John had set himself apart and the family was always eager to hear news of him.

“Where did the traveler see John?” one of the girls asked.

“By the fords of Jordan near Jericho,” James said. “He is preaching there. They call him ‘the Baptist’ because he washes many with water from the river as the Essenes do.”

“Do many people come to hear him preach?” Mary inquired.

“The traveler said their campfires line both banks of the river and the community of the Essenes near the fords can no longer give food and shelter to those who come to hear him.”

For a kinsman to achieve so much fame that people would come from great distances to hear him—this was something exciting.

“What does he preach?” one of the boys asked.

“John claims to be the messenger sent to foretell the coming of the Anointed One,” James said impressively.

‘The Messiah who will lead Israel out of bondage?”

“John says even the valleys will be filled and the mountains and hills be brought low. Who could do such a thing except one who comes from the Most High to lead Israel in triumph over her enemies?”

No one argued the point, but there was no joy in their hearts at the thought. The bloody conflict over Judas the Gaulonite, who had claimed to be the Messiah, had swirled through these very hills around Nazareth. With no more effort than turning one’s head, it was possible to see the white walls of Sepphoris to the north where thousands of Jews had been crucified by the Roman governor, Quirinius, when they had risen to support Judas. That had happened less than twenty years ago, within the memory of many in Jesus’ own family. Galilee was peaceful now; the inhabitants wanted it to remain so.

“They say many Galileans have become disciples of John,” James continued, “even our kinsmen, James and John, and Simon the fisherman, with his brother Andrew.”

The sons of Zebedee were well known in Nazareth and so were Simon and Andrew who often visited there. Because of his great size and strength, Simon in particular was much admired by the younger men.

“There is always need of prophets, to remind the people of their duty toward the Most High,” Mary said.

“But Nazareth wants no part of false Messiahs,” James added. “We remember too well the other one.”

“Is it true that John denounced Herod Antipas because of his marriage to Herodias?” one of the girls asked.

James nodded. “The merchant said Herodias has sworn to have John killed, but Herod believes him to be a prophet and will not harm him.”

“Herod is wise,” Mary agreed. “No one can be sure whether a man truly prophesies of God until his prophecies come true. It is a bad thing to kill any man, but particularly a prophet.”

‘‘Does John claim to know when the Anointed One will come?” one of the boys asked.

James shook his head. “The merchant didn’t say, but from what John has been preaching, the people believe it will be soon. That is why so many are repenting so they will be ready for the kingdom of God.”

There was silence in the room. Even to imagine the coming of God’s kingdom on earth was an awesome thing, an event to bring both joy and fear. And the fact that no one knew the hour when it would come only made it more fearsome.

James broke the silence. “It is a good thing that everyone will know when the Messiah does come. The Prophets tell us there will be no mistaking Him.”

Jesus had not spoken during the conversation. Instead He seemed to have withdrawn into Himself, as Mary and the others had noticed that He was doing more and more lately. Looking at Him now, Mary was startled by the light in His eyes and the look of decision upon His face.

The events of Jesus’ birth and the time she and Joseph had found Him in the temple at Jerusalem when He was twelve were only memories now, things so long past that it could be doubted if they had ever occurred. Yet though Mary loved Jesus dearly and knew that He loved her, she had recognized long ago that there was a part of Him, a side to His nature, which she had never been able to share as she did with the others.

The rest of the family was busy discussing John the Baptist and his sudden rise to prominence. They did not notice when Jesus got to His feet and went out into the courtyard, but Mary followed as far as the doorway. She could see Jesus standing in the middle of the small court beside the house where He worked most of the time, His eyes lifted to the star-lit winter sky. His lips moved in prayer but she could not hear the words He spoke.

The family soon went to their sleeping pallets, but Mary’s eyes did not close until long after when she heard Jesus come into the house and seek His own pallet beside the others. Somehow she knew without being told that He had come to a decision out there in the courtyard, a decision that must be related to what James had said about their cousin John. But she had no inkling of what the decision was until He came to her in the morning and told her He was going to the fords of Jericho where John was preaching and then on to Jerusalem for one of the feasts.

She did not argue. Yesterday had been Jesus’ thirtieth birthday. From now on, He was entitled to make His own decisions.

Behold, the heavens were opened to Him, and He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting upon Him.

Matthew 3:16

Following the winding course of the River Jordan southward on the east bank, the group of travelers Jesus had joined at Tarichaea came at last to the Plain of Jordan and Bethabara, which meant “House of the Ford.” Here, at the southernmost spot above the Sea of Judgment where the Jordan could be forded, one of the busiest roads in the area crossed the river and led to Jericho and Jerusalem. Near this spot Joshua had led the Children of Israel across on dry land when earth cliffs on the west bank upstream near Adamah, undermined by the swift passage of the river as it plunged southward, had tumbled into the stream and blocked it, as had happened several times before. Of course, the miracle was that God had done it for His people at just the moment that they needed to cross.

The ford was not dry now, for the rains had been copious that year and the area along both banks of the river was green with vegetation. Hundreds of small thatched shelters woven from reeds growing within the small zone of amply watered ground along the river bank had been erected by those who had come to hear John. These same reeds were widely used in Jerusalem and elsewhere, not only as canes but for making furniture and mats and the screens which largely formed the partitions in the houses.

Bethabara could hardly be called a town. Actually it was little more than a customs station where the traveler from Jerusalem passed from the area ruled by the Roman procurator, Pontius Pilate, into the region presided over by Herod Antipas, tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea. A small post of frontier guards was stationed at the fords, more to keep order than to disturb the travelers, who could move freely from any part of the Roman Empire to another so long as they paid the necessary tolls. Near the fords was the usual temporary shelter for wayfarers called a caravansary or
khan
.

A little east of the river, near a grove of white poplars and close to a spring that burst from the side of a small hill, John had found among the tumbled black basalt boulders a natural pulpit from which to preach to the crowds. Looking southward from Bethabara, his listeners could see the forbidding mountains of Moab. From a peak in this range, Moses had looked across Jordan into the Promised Land of Canaan which his people were to enjoy as their home: “All the land of Gilead as far as Dan, all Naphtali and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Western Sea, the South, and the plain of the Valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, as far as Zoar.” In these mountains also was the palace-fortress of Machaerus, frontier stronghold of Herod Antipas, where he often went for feasts and wild celebrations with his Roman friends.

Jesus did not speak to John until they faced each other as He stood in the shallows of the Jordan to be baptized. The two were not, however, entirely strangers. Elisabeth had told her son of Mary’s coming to Hebron during the time that Elisabeth was carrying John within her body. She had repeated the story Mary had told her of having been visited by an angel, and how again when, with Jesus, Joseph, and Mary had stopped at Hebron during their flight into Egypt, they had told Elisabeth and Zacharias about the angel warning them in a dream to leave Bethlehem.

That was years ago, and the memory had grown dim with the passing of the years. But when he saw Jesus standing before him now, John remembered these things Elisabeth had told him about his cousin. The slender man waiting before him to be baptized, however, seemed more like a carpenter of Nazareth than the Messiah sent from God whose coming

John had been foretelling. Uncertain just what course he should follow, he hesitated. Then as Jesus did not help him, he said quietly, “I need to be baptized by You, and are You coming to me?”

It was a dramatic moment. If Jesus accepted the designation of Messiah which John was prepared to give Him, it could be announced to the crowd who were already beginning to wonder why the prophet and the slender man confronting each other in the water did not proceed with the rite of baptism. And certainly nothing could have provided a greater fulfillment of John’s preaching than his identification of the Son of God then and there.

Jesus made no move to utilize the situation for any dramatic effect, however. Instead, He spoke in a low voice which only John could hear. “Permit it to be so now,” He said, “for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.”

Because the two men were deeply imbued with the same purpose, there was between them from the first moment of meeting a communion which removed the need for words. It was a disappointment to John not to be able to identify the Divine One whose advent he had been predicting, but he recognized that Jesus’ will took precedence over his own. He might have asked why Jesus should seek baptism, since the Son of God was without sin and therefore had no need to repent. And he had every right to question why he, who had announced himself as a messenger, should not be allowed the honor of recognizing the Man whose coming he had been prophesying.

These things were in John’s mind as he stood facing Jesus with the water swirling about their feet, but he recognized Jesus’ words, however softly spoken, as a command from God. John understood too that baptism was not, in Jesus’ case, an act of repentance, an acknowledgment of sin and a washing away of all uncleanness, as it had been with the others he had baptized. Instead, this was Jesus’ way of publicly announcing His subservience to the will of His Father and His willingness from thenceforward to do only God’s purpose. More than that, though neither John nor the onlookers could have been expected to understand, the rite of baptism was an act of abasement for Jesus. By being washed in the water with the multitude who sought to fit themselves for the kingdom of God, He was placing Himself on their level and renouncing divinity in order to reach men’s hearts, not through fear or subservience to divine will, but by means of His own humanity.

John made no further objection. As Jesus had requested, he baptized Him.

Until James had brought the merchant’s account of John’s preaching at Bethabara, Jesus had been content with His lot in Nazareth. He loved the beautiful countryside of Galilee, the mountains and plains, the fields rich with grain, the “Ho-ho-ho” of the shepherds as they called across the hilltops to each other while watching the flocks, and the fruit hanging heavy on the trees and vines. He had enjoyed the sense of comradeship with friends and neighbors as He read from the sacred scrolls in the synagogue on the Sabbath, worshiping His Father in heaven as the others did. And He particularly loved the times when the children gathered at His shop and He put aside His tools to tell them stories they so loved.

Jesus had not been wondering just when it would be that His Father would call Him to a greater sphere of activity and the beginning of His real ministry. He had not reached thirty; the people of Nazareth respected Him because of His wisdom and listened when He spoke in the synagogue, but He could not expect other people to do so. He had been content to fill His own small place in the world represented by Nazareth and its immediate surroundings, certain that God would reveal His duty to Him in good time.

Whatever sensation Jesus had expected from the simple rite of baptism, the intensity of the experience that claimed Him now came as a surprise. As He came out of the water, He stood for a moment with His eyes closed, conscious of a presence and a deeply felt communion unlike anything He had ever experienced. He opened His eyes, lifting them to heaven, and for a moment was blinded by a great light, a glory and a warmth stronger than He had ever known, even in His deepest moment of religious exaltation.

It lasted only an instant as He stood in the shallows, but in the midst of it He saw what seemed to be a vision, yet clear and distinct, the shape of a white dove descending to light upon His shoulder like the Spirit of God coming to rest upon Him. And His whole being was seized with a great and moving joy and dedication while the warmth of divine love surrounded Him.

The voice that spoke to Him then was for His ears alone. “This is My beloved Son,” it said, “in whom I am well pleased.”

Jesus had found the answer for which He had come to Bethabara. From thenceforward He was in God’s hands, committed to obey divine will as Moses and the Children of Israel had been instructed in Egypt with God’s own words:

“Now therefore, if you will indeed obey My voice and keep My covenant, then you shall be a special treasure to Me above all people.”

Jesus’ experience during the baptism possessed His mind as He crossed the river and started toward Jerusalem for the ritual visit to the temple that He had planned before going back to Galilee. A few hours’ walk brought Him to Jericho.

In one of His few praiseworthy acts, the ill-starred Archelaus had conducted aqueducts from the village of Neaera to furnish water for irrigation, and the region around Jericho now bloomed like a lush garden. Its broad streets heavily shaded by palms and towering sycamore trees against the warmth of the sun which shone intensely here, even in winter, Jericho was now one of the most important cities of Israel.

The voice which had spoken to Jesus as He came from the waters of baptism had named Him the Son of God, but being human He could still feel doubt concerning His own worthiness. And as He walked along the road, He was conscious of the need to withdraw from the world, to remove Himself like the Essenes from the temptations of the flesh in order to achieve through prayer, fasting, and contemplation a fuller understanding of the purpose of God than He had received that morning.

Behind the great spring at the edge of Jericho, said by some to be the “Fountain of Elisha” whose waters the prophet had healed of their bitterness, rose a rugged, naked, and arid height. When Jesus reached the foot of the mountain, He turned aside and began the laborious climb up the precipitous slope. The wilderness of underbrush, crags, and steep-sided gullies was a world apart from the pleasure-loving city lying below. Here, sheltered in one of the many caves that pocked the surface near the summit, Jesus drew away from the world for a period of fasting and self-discipline while He sought to find within Himself, or through revelation from His Father, the assurance of His own strength for whatever lay ahead.

He was no stranger to fasting; pious Jewish families such as that of Mary and Joseph often fasted, so it was natural for Jesus to think of abstention from food as a means of putting aside the appetites of the flesh in self-discipline. Thus had the prophets of old sought divine revelation and received it.

As the days passed and Jesus continued to fast upon the mountaintop, the insistent demands of His body, which was entirely human, tempted Him more and more to succumb. Buffeted by storms and the heat of the sun, torn by hunger and thirst, no miracle was required for Him to hear the voice of evil say, “If You are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread.”

The Son of God could easily have turned stones to bread, but the act would have meant nothing, except that He could use divine power for His own satisfaction—in itself an admission of weakness. And so Jesus answered the voice sternly: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.”

The voice of evil would not be silenced, however. Next the devil took Him as in a vision into Jerusalem and set Him on the pinnacle of the temple from which He could look down upon the priests as they performed the sacrifices and the Levites as they marched in the morning ritual. This time the voice of evil demanded that He perform a miracle which would announce His identity to the chief priests and to the people thronging the temple. “If You are the Son of God,” the voice said, “throw Yourself down. For it is written: ‘He shall give His angels charge over you,’ and ‘in their hands they shall bear you up, lest You dash Your foot against a stone.’” It was a passage Jesus Himself had read many times before the congregation at Nazareth, but something deep inside Him, part of the communion He had experienced during His baptism, now told Him it was His Father’s will that the kingdom of God should be established first in the hearts of men.

“It is written again,” He answered this new temptation, “‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God.’”

Next the devil took Him in another vision to a high mountain from which He could see many of the cities of Israel and, visualized in the blue haze beyond His range of vision, the great centers of the world. And the voice of evil He had heard twice before spoke once more, daring Him to seize all He saw for Himself.

That He possessed the power to make everything in sight His own, Jesus did not for a moment doubt. So great was His faith in the Father who had spoken to Him on the banks of the Jordan that He was convinced He had only to speak and immediately, through the power of God, He would become the highest of all, Ruler even of the emperor at Rome. But He understood now that this was no more God’s purpose for Him than the other temptations had been.