by Bodie Thoene
The audience laughed.
“So here’s what I know about Jesus of Nazareth, winemaker: He is able to take the water that comes from heaven as rain or from the springs as a gift of almighty God and bypass all those steps! He alone is able to go from water to the finest wine that ever was!”
Suddenly I was embarrassed that I had been lecturing, and everyone was hanging on my words.
It was my sister Mary who redirected the attention of the group.
Drawing an alabaster bottle from her pocket she uncorked it and poured the contents over Jesus’ outstretched feet. It was the same gesture she had performed at Simon’s house in the Galil some years before. I had not been there on that occasion, but I knew that after Jesus had saved her life, telling her to “go and sin no more,” she had been transformed. In gratitude she anointed his feet with expensive perfumed lotion.
She did the same again now.
The powerful aroma of costly spikenard filled the chamber, easily overpowering the remaining scents of the dinner. The air was charged with inexpressible sweetness.
Mary allowed her hair to fall across his feet, and I saw her embrace them, scrubbing Jesus’ feet with her reddish locks and mingling her tears with the ointment.
I heard Judas mutter, “Such a waste. Terrible expense!”
When Jesus sat up to thank Mary for her kindness, she wanted to anoint his head as well, but the remaining spikenard would not come out of the flask. Without hesitation, Mary shattered the vial on the flagstones. Scooping the remaining lotion up with her hands she applied it to Jesus’ hair.
Judas raised his chin and said with utter contempt, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? Why has this woman been keeping this back from us? It’s worth a year’s wages!”
Jesus addressed Judas, but he kept his gaze fixed on Mary. When he gestured, she raised her downturned face, and he looked into her eyes. “Leave her alone. It was intended she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”1
I couldn’t keep my thoughts from returning then to my vineyard. The grapes, so carefully tended, had to be crushed before they became wine. Even then the juice had to undergo a transformation before being released from the tomb of the barrels.
What in Jesus’ words put all that in my mind?
What did it all mean, and when would I fully understand?
Chapter 34
Like the spokes of a celestial wheel, radiant beams jutted up from the far eastern horizon before the coming of the sun. Pink and orange banners streaked the sky. The first day of the week that ushered in Passover began with a coronet of golden light, as if heralding the advent of a king.
Somehow the word had gone out overnight that Jesus of Nazareth had returned to my home in Bethany. When I awoke early on that morning, entire villages of pilgrims were camped all around my property. Orchards and vineyards were planted thick with thousands of travelers. My fields offered a rich harvest of eager souls awaiting the touch of the Master Vinedresser.
The question on everyone’s lips was whether Jesus would enter the city or not. Everyone knew there were threats on his life. He had come this far, returning from exile in Ephraim, but would he challenge the authorities and go to the Temple?
What would the Romans do? If they suspected the least chance of a riot, they might disperse the assembly with clubs.
Jesus did not leave the crowds waiting in suspense for long. Gathering his disciples around him, he summoned me to his side. “Take Peniel with you,” he said. “Go into the village up ahead. There you will find a donkey tied, together with its colt, which has never been ridden. Bring them to me. And if anyone asks you why you’re untying them, tell them, ‘The Master has need of them.’ “1
As we approached Bethphage, I saw a curl of smoke drifting up from the chimney of Patrick’s cottage. When we rounded the hillside, Patrick’s vineyard came into view. Derelict the year before, now the black and twisted ancient trunks were bursting with new life. Covered in leafy green canopies, the rows saluted the morning.
Tied to the thickest, oldest trunk of the ancestor vine, like a brace of giant ripe grapes, were a pair of dark, wine-red donkeys. “Happiness and her colt Joyful,” I remarked to Peniel. “I should have known.”
As Peniel and I began to untie the mare and her colt, Patrick emerged from his home. Shielding his eyes against the glare of the morning sun, he demanded, “What are you doing there?”
“Ho, Patrick,” I returned. “The Master has need of them.”
The words Jacob prophesied over his son Judah more than two thousand years earlier struck me like a thunderbolt:
The scepter will not depart from Judah,
nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet,
until he to whom it belongs shall come
and the obedience of the nations shall be his.
He will tether his donkey to a vine,
his colt to the choicest branch;
he will wash his garments in wine,
his robes in the blood of grapes.2
Jacob’s words were about Jesus! About this very moment! Jesus was the heir of Judah, the king predicted centuries before! The prophetic fulfillment was his; the time was now!
“Lazarus?” Patrick said, puzzled by my reverie.
“Sorry! What?”
“Jesus is going into the city, then?”
I shook my head to clear it. “On his way even now. Peniel and I will meet him on the road.”
“And we will join you,” Patrick returned. “Adrianna and I wouldn’t miss this!”
By the time we led the pair of donkeys halfway back to Bethany, a swirling cyclone of worshipers reached and engulfed us. At the center of the storm was Jesus. With him were my sisters and his disciples and his mother.
Sweeping my cloak from around my shoulders, I flung it across Joyful’s back. Peniel did the same. Peter and Andrew tied these makeshift saddles in place with knots known more to ships and sailors than to beasts of burden, yet they served the purpose.
The crowd began to chant a hymn of ascent:
“Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion,
which cannot be shaken but endures forever.
As the mountains surround Jerusalem,
so the Lord surrounds his people
both now and forevermore.”3
Nicodemus, out of breath from running all the way from the city, hurried up to me. “He won’t be persuaded to stay away? ”
I waved my hand toward the singing multitude. “Do you think anyone would attempt to harm him in the middle of this? Those who tried would be torn limb from limb. The crowd would turn on Caiaphas himself afterward.”
“The scepter of the wicked will not remain
over the land allotted to the righteous.”4
We sang with gusto, recognizing the power of the moment. “He has never let the people proclaim him king before,” Nicodemus murmured.
“We are being swept along on a tide that cannot be resisted,” I said. “Listen.”
“Lord, do good to those who are good,
to those who are upright in heart.
But those who turn to crooked ways
the LORD will banish with the evildoers.”5
“Have you ever heard such joyful anticipation?” I added. “I think half of Galilee is here. They are bringing their king to Jerusalem.”
“It’s more than that.” Nicodemus eyed the donkey. “It’s a prophecy fulfilled. The prophet Zechariah wrote:
“‘Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion!
Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem!
See, your king comes to you,
righteous and having salvation,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’ “6
“Do you think Jesus is deliberately acting out the prophecy?” I queried.
“No!” Nicodemus said sharply. “I think Zechariah loo
ked across more than five hundred years and saw this very day!”
The day was warm and the road dirty. To keep the celebration from disappearing behind a veil of dust, the crowd began to strip off their cloaks. Running ahead of the procession, they lay their garments on the road in front of Jesus for him to pass over. The tramping of thousands of feet on a heap of red and brown robes was like the winepress of all the ages, crushing out everything that had gone before.
The vintage created from this year’s pressing would be the most magnificent of all time, I thought.
Not to be outdone, others seized on the trees that had been planted by the old Butcher King. Fronds, wrenched from these palms, were also strewn in the way until the highway was thickly carpeted with green.
As the multitude swarmed up the slope of the Mount of Olives, I was reminded of the great crowd Jesus fed from five loaves and two fish. I wondered how many of today’s enthusiastic supporters were present because they expected something similar this time. It was easy to applaud one who fed you for free.
At the crest of the hill an oncoming horde of people met us. Racing excitedly out of Jerusalem was a host equally as large as the one I was in. The word that Jesus was arriving had reached the Holy City, and its citizens emerged to greet him.
“Hosanna!” they cried. “Lord, save us!” Snatching up more palm branches, the newcomers waved them in acclamation.
The two surging tides of people met, clashing together like competing ocean waves.
Nicodemus shouted over the chants, “This could be dangerous! This is the welcome a nation gives a returning hero. This is the way Rome receives a victorious general or the victor at the end of a war of succession. This is the way they usher in a new king!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest!”7
There! It was out in the open. It was no longer possible for Jesus to discourage the common people from proclaiming him king. This time he did not disappear. This time he did not forbid them.
Jerusalem’s population doubled every Passover with arrivals from other provinces and foreign lands. What would happen if Jews from places like Cyprus and Cyraenea, Italy, and Ephesus joined with those from tiny Nazareth and boastful Jericho? What if the Roman garrison felt threatened by the calls for independence?
What would the high priest do?
What would Governor Pilate do?
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” the Galileans east of the city chanted.
“From the house of the Lord we bless you,” returned the worshipers from Jerusalem at the west.
Beside me I saw Nicodemus look up sharply, then shiver despite the warm sunshine of the morning.
“What is it?” I demanded.
He tried to wave away my inquiry, but I would not be dissuaded. “What?” I said again.
“Don’t you know the rest of this psalm? It’s the one recited when the ram or bull is being prepared for slaughter. The next verse says, “With boughs in hand, bind the sacrifice to the horns of the altar.”8
Then I also shuddered as I watched the thousands of people waving their boughs. Jesus, sitting on the donkey named Joyful, was led along the path leading toward Mount Moriah and the place of sacrifice. We were heading toward the spot where Abraham had prepared to offer up Isaac. Where David had brought the ark of the covenant to stop a plague that was decimating Israel. Where untold thousands of sacrificial animals had spilled their blood over the last thousand years. Where almighty God had said that he would provide himself, the sacrifice.
But where would it all end?
It was a place steeped in blood yet still was not quenched. Would there ever be enough sacrifices … or one sacrifice great enough … to cause the need for sacrifice to cease?
Some of Nicodemus’s brother Pharisees arrived then, bustling with self-importance. Thrusting themselves through the assembly, they stood in front of Joyful and demanded, “Rabbi! Make them stop!”
“Rebuke your followers! Don’t let them cry, ‘Hosanna!’ to you!”
Jesus looked at them and then at me before pointing at the stones of the roadbed. “Even if they stopped,” he said, “then the very stones themselves would cry out. The rocks would prophesy.”9
The stones of Jerusalem had witnessed kings and prophets, celebration and tragedy, David and Solomon and Isaiah and Abraham and now Jesus of Nazareth. Was that a buzzing, a low humming underfoot? Were these stones of witness also crying out, “Hosanna”?
The Pharisees were shocked and their expressions showed it. In our language stone spelled backward is prophesy. Inside out, upside down, backward, or forward, there was no preventing what was happening. Jesus was proclaimed the King of the Jews that day.
He would sweep all before him! After that day even the religious leaders would see the validity of his claim. Caiaphas and the rest would have to move aside for him. Rome would bargain with him. Perhaps they would replace the foul wretch Antipas with Jesus.
“Hosanna!” I shouted. “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna to the Son of David!”
The cavalcade paused at the crest of the hill, with all Jerusalem sprawled out before it. Leaving Jesus surrounded by his closest followers, the rest of the multitude spilled over the slope. Waving their cloaks and brandishing branches, they gushed like a flood toward the city gates. Soon there would be no one in the Holy City who had not heard that Jesus had arrived! The new king had been proclaimed!
But I stood nearby, my gaze fixed on Jesus’ face. As I watched, despite being surrounded by ten thousand admirers, sadness plucked at his eyes and mouth. Quietly … so quietly that only a handful of us nearest to him could catch it, we heard him say, “If you, Jerusalem, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come when your enemies will not leave one stone on another … because you did not recognize the day of God’s coming to you.”10
If only they knew, I thought. If only they believed! All the suffering of all the ages could have ended on that very day … And Jesus wept.
Notes
Chapter 3
1. Luke 3:7–8
2. Luke 3:8
3. John 1:19–22
4. John 1:23–26
5. Psalm 2:1–2, adapted from NKJV
6. Psalm 2:3–9, adapted from KJV
7. Psalm 2:10–12, adapted from KJV
Chapter 4
1. John 1:29 ESV
2. John 1:30
3. Mark 1:11 ESV
4. John 1:32–34
Chapter 5
1. Psalm 132:10–12, adapted from KJV
2. Psalm 132:13–16, adapted from KJV
3. Psalm 133:1–2, adapted from KJV
Chapter 9
1. Song of Songs 2:14–15
2. Song of Songs 4:9–10, adapted.
3. Read the story in John 2:1–10. Quote from verse 10.
4. Psalm 104:14–15, with first phrase added by authors
5. Psalm 80:14–15
Chapter 10
1. Psalm 136:1, adapted; Hebrew and last line are from the actual Hebrew translation
2. Psalm 105:1–2
3. 1 Chronicles 16:35
Chapter 11
1. John 8:1–11, adapted
Chapter 13
1. Matthew 21:28–31, adapted
2. Matthew 21:32, adapted
3. John 15:1–8, adapted
4. Luke 14:16–24, adapted
Chapter 14
1. John 6:25–70, adapted
Chapter 15
1. John 8:31–59, adapted
Chapter 16
1. John 9:1–7, adapted
2. John 9:13–34, adapted
Chapter 18
1. Psalm 80:3, 8–9 NKJV adapted
2. Psalm 80:10–12, 14 NKJV adapted
3. Psalm 80:14–1
5, 17–19 NKJV
4. Joel 2:25 ESV, adapted
Chapter 22
1. Exodus 15:1, 4 adapted from NKJV
2. Song of Songs 6:2–3, adapted
3. Song of Songs 6:9, adapted
Chapter 23
1. John 5:1–9, adapted from NKJV
2. John 5:10–13, adapted from NKJV
3. John 5:14–15, adapted from NKJV
4. John 5:19–29, adapted from NKJV
5. John 5:41–47, adapted from NKJV
Chapter 24
1. Psalm 118:15–16
2. Matthew 6:24 ESV
3. Psalm 118:19–21 (1984 NIV)
4. John 10:24–30, adapted from ESV
5. Psalm 118:26
6. John 10:31–38, adapted from ESV
7. Psalm 118:22–23
8. Psalm 118:28–29
Chapter 25
1. Exodus 15:21 adapted
Chapter 29
1. Read the whole story in Genesis, chapters 37, 39–46.
Chapter 30
1. For the entire story of Lazarus, read John 11:1–44.
Chapter 32
1. For the entire story, read Matthew 20:1–16.
2. Psalm 121:1–4
3. Matthew 20:17–19, adapted
4. Psalm 121:5–8
Chapter 33
1. Read the story in John 12:1–8.
Chapter 34
1. Matthew 21:1–3, adapted
2. Genesis 49:10–11
3. Psalm 125:1–2
4. Psalm 125:3
5. Psalm 125:4–5
6. Zechariah 9:9, adapted
7. Adapted from Matthew 21:9; Mark 11:9
8. Psalm 118:27, adapted from NKJV and NIV
9. Luke 19:39–40, adapted from NIV and ESV
10. Luke 19:41–44, adapted
About the Authors
Bodie and Brock Thoene (pronounced TAY-nee) have written over sixty-five works of historical fiction. That these bestsellers have sold more than thirty-five million copies and won eight ECPA Gold Medallion Awards affirms what millions of readers have already discovered—that the Thoenes are not only master stylists but experts at capturing readers’ minds and hearts.
