The Making of the Lamb (52 page)

“You must be wondering what will come at you next,” said Mary.

Daniel nodded. “How did you know?”

“It’s all over your face, and I don’t blame you. For months, everything has rested on your shoulders. First, your father leaves because he is angry at Jesus for taking up weapons to pursue those robbers.”

Daniel looked at her.
Does she know about the prophecy of the awful death her son is facing? I know I did not tell her, and I cannot imagine that Papa did, either. Maybe she figured it out. But no. She just looks confused. I guess Papa’s anger and the way he left so suddenly just never made sense to her.

“Then Jesus leaves you alone to run things on your own, because he says that God is sending him on a mission to the north.”

“Do you think anything will come of that mission?”

“He has grown. He is a man now. Did he tell you about freeing Pirro?”

”He told me.”

“A mother sees these things. He is learning compassion. Do you know what he did yesterday? He went back to Pilton Hollow to teach the people that it was not enough for them to send the lepers away, as he told them to do before he left. To find favor with God, he told me, they had to show compassion for the afflicted. They had to provide the afflicted with food and clothing, even if the law requires the afflicted to remain apart.”

“I would think a mother would worry, when her son goes off like Jesus did and does not send word for months.”

“Oh, Daniel! Of course I worried, but I was comforted to know that he was in the hands of God, the Father.”

She has no idea what awaits her son—that one day God will abandon and forsake Jesus on that awful cross.

“Anyway, I know it was hard to be left on your own, but we are a family. Your father and I are as brother and sister, and I know Jesus thinks of you as his brother. We will see the future through as a family, whether it holds well or ill. Just remember that you are never alone, Daniel.”

He looked after his aunt as she made her way back to her house.
I guess she is not one to join the party either.
Daniel thought back to the way his cousin had described the foreshadowing of his crucifixion on that day in Lugdunum.
He said she will be there at the foot of the cross, weeping for him. How will she ever bear the pain of such a sight?

Jesus was beginning to feel the effects of the mead, and he needed some air and solitude. He hiked the steep path to the Tor. The raucous noise of the festivities fell away behind him.
I have not climbed the Tor in many months. The sky along the path will be clear now, all the way to the top, and when I get there, I can breathe in the clear night air and gaze down on the party.

There was not a cloud to obscure the stars.
I wonder if there is anything more than pagan superstition about this place. I feel some sort of energy whenever I come here.

The path broke clear of the trees, and Jesus stood alone at the summit. Spreading his arms, he ran this way and that, imagining himself taking flight. He remembered that morning with Brian. It seemed like a very long time ago.

Jesus settled himself on a rock, watched the revelry far below him, and listened to the faint music, shouts, and laughter. The thought of Uncle Joseph leading the merriment amused him. Then he looked out over the Levels. The patches of water below glittered faintly in the light of the moon and stars. Jesus closed his eyes and imagined all the creatures sheltered in the marsh.

It is so perfect up here, I don’t want anything to change. I am so grateful for this time among the Britons, but I will be ready to return to lead Israel to freedom. I will be another David for my people. The pagans of Rome will know the wrath of the one true God, just as that same God visited his wrath upon the Egyptians when they refused to let the people go.

Opening his eyes, Jesus saw leaves swirling around him, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The gentle breeze became a gale. Then it died away.

“My entrance no longer impresses you.” The voice came from no direction and from all directions.

“You are the God of the Universe, Father. A burning bush or a whirlwind, it matters not. I am your son, Your presence is all that matters.”

“You have grown, my son, in body, mind, and spirit. When we first talked, I had to stop you from scurrying around to remove your slippers as Moses did in my presence. Now you are confident to sit or stand with me, and that is good. You become more connected to your divine substance every day.”

“You know my heart, Father, you know my love for you, and I feel your love even when you do not reveal yourself to me.”

“The time has come to speak.”

“I have prepared myself for this moment, even as I have dreaded it.”

“In your pride, you imagine you know my plan. That comes from your human nature, my son. But like all men, you must learn that not even you know your destiny. As I move across space and time, I see the arrogance of man. Men never understand how their fate truly rests with me, and neither do you.”

“I know about the crucifixion, Father. In my visions, I have seen my mother weep at the foot of the cross. I have seen soldiers gaming over my vestures, just as the psalms prophesy.”

“You do not truly understand that prophecy.”

“I know I can put all my faith and trust in you. I know that, in your love for me, you will never forsake me. I will suffer, so the people see how you free me from that cross. Seeing your power, the Romans will tremble. The people will unite, and I will lead them to freedom.” Moments passed. Jesus began to feel a niggling doubt.
Why does he not say anything?

“Time and again I have entered into a covenant with my chosen people, but those covenants were never fulfilled.”

“You made a covenant with David that his seed would rule your kingdom forever. Am I not his seed, Father?”

“Indeed you are, but you do not understand your kingdom. It is not of the world that you see around you.”

Jesus shivered.
What is my Father saying? Surely, he does not mean to deny me the throne of Israel.

“I covenanted with Abraham that I would make a great nation of his people, but because Abraham was an imperfect man, that covenant was imperfect. I commanded him to slay his own son as a sacrifice.”

“But then, once he had bound Isaac on the sacrificial altar, you sent an angel to stay his hand,” said Jesus. “You meant it as a test of Abraham’s faith, and he proved he would sacrifice anything for you.”

“I did not need any test to know Abraham’s heart. I already know the measure of any man. I promised Abraham that his descendants would be reckoned through Isaac, and then I asked him to sacrifice his son. He trusted me. He believed I would raise Isaac from the dead, so he was willing to obey. I had no need to test Abraham, since I already knew his heart.”

“Then why ask for the sacrifice, Father?”

“So Abraham could stand as an example of faith to those who followed. I provided a ram for the sacrifice so my people would know I will always provide what they need to keep covenant with me. But the covenant was nevertheless imperfect.”

“Because Abraham sacrificed a ram instead of his son?”

“Even if Abraham had slain his son, the covenant would have been imperfect. Because Isaac, as a mortal man, was an imperfect being. How can the covenant be perfect if it is sealed by the blood of an imperfect creature?”

Suddenly, Jesus understood. He felt faint and weak. He slumped down on the ground, trembling.

“The time is coming,” the Father said, “for a new age in which Creation is made new. It calls for a new and perfect covenant. No man can offer a perfect son in sacrifice. A son without blemish, without sin.”

“No man has a such a son,” said Jesus. “But you?...”

“Only I am able to bring forth such a son. Only I possess the strength to bear the pain of such a full and complete sacrifice.”

“And I?”

“You must be the perfect sacrificial lamb of the new covenant, and I must bear the pain of seeing you die on the cross.”

An anguished cry pierced the night.

Daniel had been watching his father dancing and making merry among the Britons, but the cry brought the festivities to an abrupt stop. It was more than any human cry. It came from the summit of the Tor, yet it could be heard across the Levels hundreds of feet below and miles into the distance, filling the night like rumbling thunder. It was no word in any human language, not Aramaic or Celtic or Latin or Greek, but Daniel recognized the voice of his younger cousin.

“No!”

The syllable hung in the air, reverberating across the Levels.

And then Jesus, high up on the Tor, shouted: “What kind of father are you? What kind of father would condemn his own son to such a horrible death? What kind of father would sentence his own son to crucifixion, a son who has always loved him?”

Daniel and Papa exchanged glances. There was no need for words. The time foretold by Joseph had come, the time for Jesus to learn of his terrible destiny.

Daniel’s next thought was for Aunt Mary. She emerged from her house as if she expected to find the voice coming from nearby. She appeared confused.
She has no idea what future awaits Jesus. How can anyone tell her?

“How many covenants have you made before, Father? Covenants that failed?” Jesus sounded as if he was sobbing. “One with Noah…Abraham…Jacob…Moses…David. You still haven’t gotten it right, so you want to have another go at it? That means I have to die—shamefully, painfully, by crucifixion—for all the world to watch! I won’t do it! I can’t!

Lightning flashed through the sky above the Tor.

“How could you not tell us the kingdom you promised to the house of David would have nothing to do with this world?”

Then the thunder slammed into the stunned festival-goers.

Lightning? Thunder?
The night was clear and cloudless.
How can there be lightning and thunder?
Daniel looked to the Britons. The guests from the Lake Village were just beginning to appreciate how unnatural the sound and fury all about them really was.

“The gods are fighting,” Elsigar shouted. “Take shelter! No mortal can face the gods when they are so angry!” But despite sounding the alarm, he stood transfixed, gazing up the Tor.

More lightning filled the sky, each bolt brighter than the last, and thunder crashed, louder, following ever closer on the lightning.

Then came a tirade of wild laughter. Daniel recognized it was his cousin’s, but it sounded like a madman’s laughter.

“Is that supposed to shock me into submission, Father? Is a bolt of lightning more frightening than death on that cross?”

As if in answer, another bolt of lightning cracked through the sky.

The following clap of thunder rocked Daniel to his core.

“Smite me, Father!” came Jesus’s cry. “Let me die here, now, rather than suffer that awful death. Send the next bolt of lightning right through me. Let’s end it now.”

It seemed to Daniel that the next bolt of lightning actually struck farther away. The pause before the thunder was longer, and the peal was more of a rumble than a sharp clap.

Jesus laughed hysterically. “If you smite me now, what happens to your precious new covenant? No, you are going to keep me alive, just to abandon me later. What kind of father would do that?” Jesus shrieked, laughed, and sobbed. “What kind of father condemns his own son to die as part of a deal? That’s what a covenant is, isn’t it? A contract you make with your people, but I’m the one who will have to pay the price. That awful, shameful, terrible price!”

How could a voice so raspy and weak be so resonantly loud?

“What a heartless Father you are. You don’t love me. You never have.”

Daniel saw others coming toward him, Mary in the lead, with Elsigar, Papa, and Arvigarus close behind. In his distraction, he had not been aware how far he had stumbled from the festivities.

“Thanks be to God,” Papa exclaimed. “At least you are safe.”

“Where is he?” asked Mary.

Daniel pointed up the Tor. “He said he needed to get some air.”

“Oh no, he cannot be up there!” Mary gazed up at the summit.

“Did you not hear him?” asked Daniel.

Mary, Elsigar, and Arvigarus all looked at Daniel in disbelief. “All I heard was some wild laughing and shouting and thunder from the top of the Tor,” said Mary. “I didn’t understand a word of it. I could not recognize whose voice it was.”

Daniel looked at his father. The nod was all it took for Daniel to understand that Joseph, too, had heard and understood, even though the others had not.

“We must go for Jesus,” Arvigarus exclaimed.

Daniel saw the confusion on Mary’s face.
She looks torn. She wants to put her trust in God, but she wants Jesus back safely, too. She is not saying anything to stop us.
“Yes, let’s go.”

Papa wanted to join them, but he was too infirm to climb. Not that Daniel could say that. “Papa, you must stay behind to look after Aunt Mary.”

“I forbid this,” said Elsigar. “You are a prince of the Silures, Arvigarus. Your death could precipitate a war. And you are an outlander, Daniel. I cannot allow you to interfere with our gods on the Tor. I will call the men to hold you both down if I must.”

Before Daniel could even frame his argument, the earth shook violently beneath their feet, an earthquake such as none of them had ever felt before. For a few seconds they looked at each other in confusion.

Lightning again flashed across the skies, and thunder made their ears pop. The earth continued to roll under their feet.

“Trying to rescue Jesus is pointless,” said Elsigar. “No mortal could survive the fury of the gods. If Jesus is up there, he is already dead.”

Mary gasped and then collapsed, sobbing, into Daniel’s arms.

The Fallen One was living fat and large, feasting upon all the unredeemed souls that made their way to the depths of hell, when he felt a powerful, breaking spiritual wave. What had so jolted him out of his pleasures?

Sensing the presence of the Word among men, he was stricken with terror. He knew from the prophecies that the Son would one day live among men and offer the pathway to salvation. Ultimately, that would be Satan’s destruction.
What hope is there for me once the Son becomes the light for all nations and offers the pathway to salvation for all? Who would not turn from sin if they knew that anyone had the hope to follow this Christ on the pathway to salvation?