Spying on Messiah

By Carl Wren

Jonathan and Micah, youths in first century Jerusalem, had a secret: They snuck out at night after their parents were asleep. This night they found themselves at the scene of Jesus' arrest. As they fled, Jonathan's garment was left in the hands of an assailant. He raced away, naked. This event set the course for the rest of Jonathan's life in a world of fanatics and Brutal Roman soldiers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465700339

Book preview

978-1-46570-033-9

Chapter 1

I thought I had seen trouble before . . . when they crucified Jesus, the trouble with my parents, the dark time after Micah, the pursuit by the Romans. This prison is greatly more. Brutal Attis. He seems to have made me his special project, thinking up new ways to torture. This dank prison is so dark. I try to pray, but . . .

I have discovered one way to keep my sanity: Remembering. Remembering every day of my life. Every detail. I sit in my corner and try to see every moment. When I am successful, the day passes quickly. When not, it is a long day.

I remember when it all began.

The pebbles ground into my back like pointed marbles. But I didn't notice at the moment. All I could think was: Get out of here. Micah and I had snuck up the hill, called the Mount of Olives for the grove of gnarled old trees that grew there, to spy on Jesus and his disciples.

It was Passover and there was great tension between him and the religious leaders. He must have been a big threat to them. For us, he was an adventure. We followed him when he came to Jerusalem. We heard him teach and saw the miracles. That was what got us: The healings.

But we made a mistake tonight. Micah had come and gotten me out of bed. (We sometimes snuck out at night after our parents were asleep and followed Roman soldiers and things like that.)

Micah scratched on the window sill by my bed. Jonathan. Are you awake, he whispered.

I was, barely. What? I whispered back.

The Teacher and his disciples have gone out to the Mount of Olives. We can get close and hear what they are saying.

Micah, it's Passover. It's cold outside.

Come on. Don't be a sissy.

Micah loved adventure. He nearly always was the one who wanted to do something. Oh, all right. If I don't, you will wake my parents.

To keep from waking them, I slipped from under the covers and crept up the ladder to the roof in just my night shirt, carrying my sandals in my hand. It would be chilly but I didn't want to wake my folks.

~~~~~

We had been able to get close enough to hear Jesus and his men because of boulders and brush. We  had just wiggled into hiding spots only feet from Jesus when we heard it. A  noise back down the path. A group of people were coming. And we were caught between them and Jesus. All we could do was sit tight.

Jesus and his group stopped talking and looked down the path to see who it was. They were carrying torches and I recognized the man in front. He was the heavyset one, the disciple whom they said took care of the money.

Who do you want? Jesus stepped out toward the group. I could see now that most of them were temple guards. I knew that wasn't good, that they meant harm somehow.

Jesus the Nazarene, a guard said.

I am, Jesus answered. (I thought he should have said, I am he.)

When he said this, the whole bunch that had come up the trail fell back like a stack of sticks hit by a puff of wind. They got up, looking kind of confused.

I told you I am the one you are looking for, Jesus said. The disciple with the guards came up to Jesus like he was going to kiss him. When he did the guards started to grab Jesus. That's when the disciple called Peter took out a sword and hit one of the men. The blade sliced down the side of the man's head and I saw that it had taken his right ear off. (I think Peter meant to split the man's head open and missed just a little bit.)

Put your sword up! Jesus snapped at Peter. Then he picked up the ear, shook it, blew on it and picked off the dirt and grass that was left clinging to it. Then he put it in the palm of his hand and put his hand on the side of the man's head. When he took his hand away, there the ear was, on his head just like nothing had happened! The man just sat there, feeling the ear.

The soldiers took Jesus, and the disciples ran in all directions like a covey of desert quail. Micah and I decided we should, too. As I stood up someone grabbed me by the shoulders. My feet kept going and I fell on my back. My night shirt was in the hands of the guard who had grabbed me and I was up and plunging down the trail.

Finally, when I didn't hear anyone behind me, I stopped and squatted down in the bushes. I jumped and grunted as limbs and leaves poked my bare skin. Then it dawned on me: I was naked, stark naked except for my sandals.

I heard the crowd coming back down the hill. I stayed down behind the bush and watched as the guards shoved Jesus along, cursing him.

When they were out of sight and hearing, I rose up and looked for Micah. He was nowhere to be seen. He didn't get stopped like I did. He probably was back in the city by now. How was I to get home? I didn't have a thread on and I had to somehow get through the gate and back to my house.

I crept through the brush until I was near the city gate. It was locked except for a small door built into it. This was for safety. A company of soldiers couldn't charge through in the dark, but a late traveler could get in.

I watched from the shadows while a trader with a donkey loaded with goods worked at the door. Two soldiers watched from atop the wall as he took part of the load off the animal, pushed it through the gate and gruntingly repacked it on the inside.

Finally, when the guards had patrolled off down the wall, I ran like the wind until I was through the door and into a dark street. I flattened out against the wall of a house in the shadows until I caught my breath. I listened but didn't hear a sound. I made my way toward home, street by street, shadow to shadow.

Finally, I was in the courtyard by my house. No one was in sight. I raced across, grabbed the trellis and scrambled up. I rolled over the top of the wall and laid there, catching my breath. Then I heard it. A giggle. I recognized it. Oh Lord! It was Rachel from next door. How was I going to explain this? I would tell her she was just dreaming. I would tell her she imagined it. I don't think she could see much in the dark. Anyway, I hoped not.

Lying there, looking up at the stars, I thought of Jesus. Many times he had escaped, walking straight through the crowd. Or so we were told, and I believed it. Why didn't he do it this time? He shouted at Peter and just gave himself to the guards.

We had seen him do wonderful things. Like the time at the pool near the Sheep's Gate. Sick people laid around it because there is a story that an angel stirs the water from time to time, and when he does, the first one in gets healed.

Micah and I were out strolling on a Sabbath's walk and as we got near the pool we saw Jesus. Just as we got close, he kneeled down by a paralyzed man. Jesus asked him, Do you want to get well? Which seemed to me to be an unnecessary question. Of course the man wanted to get well. That's why he was at the pool, wasn't it?

But he didn't give a straight answer: I don't have anyone to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. Somebody always gets in ahead of me. It sounded more like an excuse than an answer. He could have just said, Yes, I want to get healed.

Then Jesus stood up and said, Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.

The man stared at Jesus. Suddenly, he looked down at his shriveled body. He gave a gasp and began to struggle. As he did, his arms and legs filled out. They really did. And the man rolled over, got to his knees, stood up and looked at himself again.

He looked at Jesus, a big grin on his face. He felt his arms and legs and began to laugh. Then he bent down and picked up his mat and tucked it under his arm. He looked at Jesus one more time, then turned and walked off, doing little skips and twists and turns.

We just stood there, mouths open, watching him go up the street.

Then we turned around and almost bumped into Jesus. I had never seen his face this close before. Soft brown eyes danced as though he was having a happy, even mischievous, thought. The hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Otherwise, he looked like any man. Medium height. Hair and untrimmed beard like any other Jewish man.

He looked at us intently and I felt like he knew me. That, somehow, he knew me better than I knew myself, and had known me my whole life. The smile faded, replaced by a sad kindness in his eyes. For an instant I thought he was going to say something. Maybe ask me a question. But he walked on by. We watched as he strode off, head high, shoulders square, arms swinging.

A thrill tingled deep inside me. I had no explanation. I was just extremely excited.

I wished he had said something. I wished he had told us why he changed from joy to sorrow as he looked at us.

Lying there, looking up at the stars, I wondered what was going to happen to him? Would they really kill him? Could they kill him? Maybe they would just chastise him, beat him with the whip and command him to stop claiming he was the son of God most high.

I stared at the myriad of dots of light in the night sky. A shooting star streaked from the east and died in the western sky.

I got up and sneaked downstairs, quietly found another nightshirt and climbed into bed. It must have been nearly daylight before I got to sleep.

Chapter 2

They murdered God. They crucified Jesus. I didn't see it. I fell into a deep well of sadness, so deep Mother believed I was sick and let me lie in bed. I laid there, hardly even eating, until Micah came four days later.

Jonathan, Mother called. Micah wants to know if you can come out.

I walked out, squinting in the bright sunlight.

Did you hear? Micah asked. He was excited.

Hear what?

They say Jesus rose from the dead?

It took me a second to take in what he said. He what!

Came back to life. Rose from the dead.

He did?

That's what they say.

Who?

His disciples. And the women and others who were with him,

Do you think it's possible?

Well, you know the things we saw him do. And Lazarus came back to life.

That's right. Maybe he really was Messiah.

"Maybe he really is Messiah, Micah said, his eyes dancing. Do you think we can find him?"

~~~~~

Jesus' disciples should still have been in Jerusalem, unless they had left for fear of the religious leaders. The holy men killed their master; what was to keep them from coming after his disciples? For all we knew, they had left.

We went to the house where they had eaten the Passover and were given a cold, peek-through-the-door reception by the lady of the house. No! was her brief answer before slamming the door. We looked for Galileans in the market place but found no disciples.

Do you think it's really possible that he rose from the grave? I asked Micah.

He didn't answer for a moment. "Well, they say he did. Or some of them do. And they say that he predicted his death and that he said he would 'rise from the grave on the third day.' But to say I really believe it . . .?" He was quiet again.

I know, I said. It's incredible. But it is possible. Look at all the things he did. And he brought others back to life. I'll bet if you asked Lazarus if he believed Jesus came back from the dead, he would say , 'Yes!'

We had to be cautious in our search of the market place, where many people––often from other countries––and animals made a milling mass. There was one spot we had to watch out for: my father's meat shop.

If Father saw us, he would want to know what we were up to. What business did we have in the market?

The shepherds and farmers brought their lambs and sheep and goats and cattle to town. Father bought the animals and butchered and prepared the meat in a shed near the north city gate. Then he sold the cuts from his shop in the market.

Some of his best customers were the priests and rabbis who brought animals offered as tithes or sacrifices. Father skinned and cut them up and prepared them for the priests. He knew all the rules and had a good reputation with the holy men. They usually paid him with a tithe of the meat which he then sold.

As we were making our way out of the square, suddenly, right in front of us, was one of the disciples. We had seen him every time that Jesus had been in Jerusalem. Without a word, we dropped back into the crowd and kept an eye on him. He made his way around, buying food. He had three loaves of bread and was looking at fruit. After agreeing on a price, he bought a basket of figs. Finally, shopping complete, he headed down a side street. We trailed as far back as we could without losing him.

He went into a two-story house. We came up and looked it over. What now ? Was Jesus inside? How could we know? How could we get in to see him?

You want to knock on the door? Micah asked.

My head jerked toward him. Not me. You do it.

What will I say? I can't just ask, 'Is Jesus here?'

Think of somebody to ask for. We will peek in when they open the door.

OK. Who?

How about Eli? There are a lot of men named Eli.

Micah tapped on the door as I looked over his shoulder.

A man opened the door, but only wide enough to look out. I tried to see over his shoulder but it was dark inside.

Is this where Eli lives? Jonathan asked.

There's no one here by that name. And he closed the door. At least he didn't slam it like the woman did.

We were stymied. We couldn't think of a way to get in the house. The only thing we could do was watch the house when possible, what with school, chores and such.

~~~~~

Well, our watch bore no fruit––no sighting of Jesus. In fact after a couple of days, the disciples disappeared. Did they return to Galilee? Or did they just move to another house? We would have to keep an eye out.

The excitement about the crucifixion and whether Jesus had risen from the grave was beginning to go away. Most people dismissed it after the first few days.

Then came a report that really threw cold water on our hopes. The guards at Jesus' tomb said that his disciples came during the night, overpowered them and stole Jesus' body. This was really discouraging. It was possible. They could have done that. When I thought about it, I began to doubt everything else about Jesus.

But I knew what Micah and I had seen. We saw him heal the man by the pool. We saw the whole band from the high priests fall back when Jesus spoke to them in the olive grove. We heard many more stories. Even if there were exaggerations, there had to be some truth to so many stories.

I frowned and shook my head to fight off the doubts.

My parents respected the religious leaders and were not given much to speculation. They usually just went with the most common sense thing.

It's possible, I suppose, but sure not likely, my father, Timon, said at dinner in answer to the question by my mother.

Mmmph, was Mother's agreement as she munched a mouthful of lentils and bread.

He raised others from the dead, I interjected.

Father's dark brown eyes rose from his plate and studied me. It's said that he did. I am not so sure it's true.

Father was imposing––intimidating, you could say. Heavy of brow, his black hair was wavy, his beard thick and curly. Heavy eyebrows framed those dark eyes atop his stocky frame.

Father! You know he raised Lazarus from the dead, I protested.

Jesus' followers say he did. I wasn't there so I don't know.

I tried to think of an argument to counter his skepticism. He did a lot of things. He healed people. Even lepers.

Timon, the Teacher must have done miracles. Too many people say they saw him do them. Mother glanced at Father.

An attractive woman, my mother Meriam had a gentleness and softness that tempered Father's sternness. I thought I would have my father's broad shoulders—I hoped so but at fourteen I wasn't sure what my stature would be. But I knew I felt about things like Mother did.

Granted, perhaps, Father answered. Maybe he did heal some people. It is still a leap from healing a fever to coming back to life.

I'll tell you what worries me about all this. It is the Pharisees. Mother was the cautious member of the family. She used to drive me crazy with all the precautions she would make me take. Jonathan, don't you dawdle on the way home from school. Come straight home. If you stop and play, I will worry. 'What has happened to my boy?' I will ask myself. You can go out and play with Micah and your friends after you have come home. If you don't have too many scriptures to learn.

Mothers are so afraid!

She continued, The Pharisees betrayed the Teacher. They actually took him and turned him over to the Romans. And they threatened to riot if the Romans didn't crucify him. Mother's eyes got big as she looked at Father. I was thinking about Micah and me watching the High Priests' guards take Jesus in the olive grove.

Now, Meriam. I'm not at all sure all that happened. That's a terrible accusation to make against our leaders.

You've got to admit something was going on.

The Teacher was causing trouble. He was stirring people up. The Romans aren't going to allow disturbances. They are going to keep the peace. They are going to stay in control and if they need to arrest and crucify a troublemaker, they won't hesitate.

I hope you're right, Timon. Mother was quiet a moment as she regarded her plate. I just don't know. I don't ever remember a Passover like this one. The unrest and the crucifixions. I just don't know. I hope you are right.

I was sitting on my hands, I wanted to tell what we had seen so badly.

It will all pass. Everything will calm down. Father wanted to comfort Mother. The Teacher got people's hopes up. They want to get out from under Rome's boot. But I don't think he had a plan. He just wandered around the countryside with his little band. I don't think he had any kind of plan for overthrowing the Romans. He just stirred up false hopes.

Father glanced at Mother. Everything will get back to normal now. It will be all right.

If he rose from the dead, he may free us from Rome yet, I ventured.

BANG! Father's fist came down on the table. I jumped a foot straight up.

That's enough! he growled, eyes angry beneath the dark brows. Jesus was a troublemaker. He brought judgment on himself. That's the end of it. Understand?

The question was directed at me. Yes, I stammered. I had never seen my father this angry.

Mother looked at Father, mouth open. I got the idea that she hadn't seen him like this either. We were surprised. Where did this anger come from? Why was Father so mad? This wasn't like him.

The meal was finished in silence. Mother gathered the plates and Father went up on the roof to catch a cool evening breeze. I followed but ducked and went back down. Rachel, who saw me shinny up the trellis without any clothes, was in her courtyard next door. I had been avoiding her like I would a mad camel. I just knew she would giggle if we ran into each other. I was not going to let that happen.

I reclined at the table and begin to fiddle with a candle holder while Mother cleaned up. Jonathan, I've got a mystery.

Yes?

You have three linen night shirts, right?

Yes, Mother.

I can find only two.

Yes? I acted disinterested, but inside I froze.

Do you know where it might be?

Maybe it's in the laundry.

No. I've done the laundry twice since I missed the night shirt. It's gone.

Well, I don't have any idea. It has to be somewhere.

Jonathan, you are the only one who wears them.

Maybe it got mixed in with Father's night shirts.

No. I've checked. Mother said.

Well, I sure don't know! I lied.

Chapter 3

I know that it is springtime. It is not by what I can see or even feel. The seasons can't reach into this dark cell except by cold or heat. It is not because someone has told me. I know it is spring because this morning I caught the faintest fragrance of the peach in blossom . . .

* * *

Discouragement in our search for Messiah was as much a part of the journey as the sun in the morning and the stars at night. But, like night, it vanished with the coming of the morning.

Father might be right. Things did seem to quiet down. We had gotten back into the normal routine. School for me, the market for Father, and house chores for Mother. All that seemed like might happen––Jesus rising from the dead, establishing a kingdom and doing more wonderful things, maybe even driving the Romans out––all the promises and possibilities . . . they all had come to nothing.

Micah and I were disheartened. We watched the market and listened for any reports but all was quiet.

The rabbis at school seemed relieved. This Jesus the Galilean, see, he was just a rabble- rouser. He is dead and there is nothing. He just stirred the people up without cause. Right prevailed, they lectured. The Law and the Prophets stand. Troublemakers come and they go. This man, who might have destroyed our Law and our way of life, he is gone, making no more difference than straw blown before the wind. The Torah, the Law of God, that is what is eternal. That is all that matters. I felt hollow on the inside when they said these things.

I didn't dare say anything at home. Mother and Father avoided the subject, too. I wondered at Father's feelings about Jesus. Why? Jesus just said good things about God and helped people. Why would Father be against that? What would make him so angry? I had never seen him angry like he was at dinner. I didn't understand.

~~~~~

On the way home from synagogue school with our friends who live in the same direction, Shimon, a classmate the same age as me, said, They say the disciples went back to Galilee and that Jesus appeared to them there. Shimon was talking to his friend, Daniel.

My ears perked up. It was the first mention of Jesus or the disciples in a week.

Who told you? Daniel asked.

That's what my mother heard at the market.

You can hear anything at the market.

Yes, but it might be. They say that Jesus is with them and that he is teaching them.

"If he really did come