by Adam Winn
Eleazar spoke again. “Surely Pilate is aware of this man, as he has his own spies and informants. What information has he been able to gather?”
“Yes,” Caiaphas answered. “Pilate is aware and has sought to gain information about him through his own spies, but they have had little more success than my own. When we compare notes, they are quite similar. One of Pilate’s informants heard teachings my own informants had not. He heard Jesus speaking of the need to love one’s enemies, which at first seemed counter to any sort of political subversion. But in the same breath, he would speak of not bringing peace but a sword, one that would divide families. Such talk has made Pilate nervous indeed, but for now, issues of jurisdiction force him to see Jesus as a problem for Herod Antipas to deal with.”
“But surely he is aware that this man could quickly become a problem in Jerusalem as well as Galilee?” asked Ezra, further evincing his frustration with the governor. “He has already been in the city numerous times, and no doubt will return. In light of these developments in his teaching and practice, the next time he arrives in Jerusalem could be problematic indeed—particularly if rumors of his messianic identity begin to spread through the city. I am quite sure that is not far away.”
“I am afraid your assessment is correct,” Caiaphas answered. “And this is the very situation that concerns me. My informants tell me that talk of Jesus as a possible Messiah is already present in the city, though not at a level to cause alarm. And as he has regularly come to Jerusalem for festivals, I have no reason to doubt that he will come for the Passover. I will address this with Pilate in our next correspondence. As always, I will consult with him soon regarding the festival and our usual plans for maintaining peace and stability. Every year presents unique challenges, and this year is likely to be no different. Certainly, Pilate will have his own ideas for keeping the peace, but we must begin our own preparations.”
At the mention of Pilate’s “own ideas,” Aaron and Ezra gave each other concerned looks and shook their heads in frustration.
“It seems to me,” said Simeon, “that increasing our number of informants would be a prudent move.”
“Indeed,” Caiaphas replied. Turning to Aaron, his older brother, he asked, “Where do things stand regarding the recruitment of new informants?”
“Today I initiated contact with two new potential recruits. One is the son of a prominent innkeeper. The other is the son of the deceased Pharisaic teacher Saul, who, as you remember, was quite popular among the people. The son now runs his father’s pottery shop. The inn is a bustling place where one can easily acquire gossip, and rumor has it that a group that style themselves as zealous insurrectionists meet there. They identify themselves as sicarii, as stabbing with a dagger is their preferred way of attacking isolated Roman soldiers. If I can recruit this innkeeper’s son, he could be quite useful to us. The son of Saul has a cousin, Judah, who is rumored to be the leader of a secret resistance group, one that is far less conspicuous than the sicarii. We know very little about them at this point, but I have heard whispers that the group includes two or three prominent Pharisaic teachers—one who may even be a member of our esteemed great council. If we can win over this son of Saul, he may be able to join this secret group and provide us with valuable information. Apparently, he is facing financial hardship, so his services might be easily bought.”
Eleazar had heard of the sicarii, though there hadn’t been an attack on a Roman soldier by these “dagger men” in over a year. But the mention of a second resistance group caused Eleazar to wonder. “Might this second group have something to do with the ambush of the five Roman soldiers by archers here in the city? The sicarii have never used the bow and arrow, nor have they ever been so bold as to take on five Roman soldiers.”
His father responded, “It is certainly possible. The attack is extremely troubling, for it was well planned and well executed. Luckily, I heard about it early in the morning after it occurred and gained an audience with the commander of the Jerusalem cohort, Brutus, before he did anything rash. As you can imagine, he was livid and was about to begin breaking down doors, dragging people to the dungeons, and torturing any Jew who was known to have sneered at a Roman soldier. I urged him not to take such actions, warning him that they might lead to even greater reprisal from the people. I asked that he first contact Pilate before he took such extreme steps, and that for the time being he pursue more subtle steps of investigation. I even offered our own informants to gather information and identify possible suspects. He agreed, reluctantly at first, but in the end was thankful for my offer of assistance. Unfortunately, it has been almost a week and my informants have found nothing useful. Perhaps Aaron’s new recruits might prove helpful in this matter. The potter’s son seems particularly promising.”
Caiaphas paused. The weight of keeping peace in the city was heavy, and Eleazar knew that threats from insurrectionists kept his father up at nights.
After a moment, he said, “The peace of this city is built on such well-placed informants, though convincing them is becoming harder given the harsh retribution that has come to those who have been discovered. We must be more discreet than ever and constantly assure them of protection.”
With these words, violent and gruesome images gripped Eleazar’s mind. Just two months prior, authorities had found the mutilated bodies of two informants, each stabbed over one hundred times. These murders, the obvious work of the sicarii, were meant to send a strong message to any Jew who would work for the enemy.
“Fear of retribution is certainly an obstacle that must be overcome when recruiting informants,” Aaron replied, “and assurance of anonymity and protection is often necessary to overcome it. We feared that the identity of one of our informants was revealed in the recent attack on Roman soldiers. Pilate had carelessly included our informant’s name, along with the name of one of his own informants, in a written report that went missing in the attack. Luckily, nothing has yet happened to this informant, and we have now provided him with constant security to protect him from any possible threat. But while all such measures are important, I still find the best way to overcome an informant’s fear of reprisal is a generous financial offer. Most men are willing to risk their lives if the price is right.”
While Aaron sounded confident in his ability to protect his recruits, Eleazar knew that he had assured this very protection to both stabbing victims from two months prior.
JUDAH
Judah knelt in front of Lazarus, looked him in the eye and said in a calm voice, “Do you understand that at this moment your life is in grave danger?”
Lazarus nodded, his eyes filling with tears.
“How this night ends is entirely up to you,” Judah said. “If you speak truthfully and tell me all I want to know, your life will be spared. But if you lie, even one time, you will die. Do you understand?”
Again Lazarus nodded, this time more vigorously. Judah’s words had seemingly given him some hope of survival.
“Let me be clear,” Judah said. “I am going to ask you a number of questions, many of which I already know the answer to. Should I catch you in a lie, you will not get a second chance. Are you sure you understand?”
Again, a vigorous nod.
“I am going to take off your gag now, but you are not going to scream, are you? If you scream or in any way call for help, you will die. Will you cry out for help once I have removed your gag?”
Lazarus shook his head.
Judah took off the gag and Lazarus remained silent. He seemed to have calmed down and the panic was no longer in his eyes. The hope of life Judah had placed in front of him was serving its purpose.
“First question: Are you an informant for Rome?” Judah asked.
There was a long pause. Finally, Lazarus said, “I am an informant, but I am not an informant for Rome.”
This caught Judah off guard. If not an informant for Rome, then for whom? “What do you mean, you are not an informant for Rome?”
“The person who recrui
ted me was a Jew. He assured me I would not be gathering information for Rome but for my own people. He told me I would be keeping the city safe!”
“And you believed this, that you were gathering information about Jews for other Jews?” Judah asked.
“Yes,” Lazarus replied sheepishly, as if hearing Judah’s question out loud made him realize how foolish it sounded.
“Did it never occur to you that the Romans might use Jews to recruit their informants? Or that they would tell such a story in order to convince you?”
A long pause. Then finally, “Perhaps the thought occurred to me . . . but . . .”
“But the money was too good to pass up?” Judah asked scathingly.
Realizing he was making things worse for himself, Lazarus blurted frantically, “The man said I would be helping our city! He . . . he wasn’t a Roman!”
Judah shook his head. “You are a fool! No, you are worse. You are a greedy, treacherous fool!”
Lazarus cringed, and panic returned to his eyes. “Don’t kill me! Please!”
With calm returning to his voice, Judah replied, “I told you I would not kill you unless you lied. Have you lied to me yet?”
“No! I swear it! Every word has been the truth.” Lazarus began to cry.
“Then you have nothing to fear,” Judah said, “as long as you continue to tell the truth.”
“All right! All right,” Lazarus said, slowly calming down. “I promise I will tell the truth.”
Judah continued, “How long have you been an informant?”
“I was recruited a little over a year ago.”
“And how much are they paying you?”
Lazarus looked down. “They pay me in contracts,” he said quietly.
Judah had expected this, but he pushed further. “Explain that. What do you mean that they pay you in contracts?”
“As long as I provide them with information, they ensure that I get the majority of the major masonry contracts in the city, and at times even contracts in other cities.”
“So not only do you betray your people by passing on information to the enemy, but you also cheat the other masons of their livelihood by taking contracts you have not earned?”
Lazarus hung his head and said nothing.
“And why would you need to make such a deal?” Judah asked. “Your father has been one of the most successful masons in the city, and I dare say he achieved this success without having to betray his people. Or was your father a traitor as well?”
“No!” Lazarus blurted. “My father is an honest and good man. He earned all he had.” Tears returned to Lazarus’s eyes, but these seemed shameful tears rather than fearful ones. “I am not my father. And when my father took ill, I wasn’t as successful as he was. The business started to fail. We began to lose contracts we would have never lost before—many contracts. I was afraid I would lose the business. That is when my contact approached me. It was a way to save everything, a way to save my honor.”
“The irony,” said Judah. “In seeking to save your honor, that was the one thing you lost.”
Again, Lazarus said nothing. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
“How would you pass on information?” Judah asked.
Lazarus took a moment to compose himself before he spoke. “I always gave it to my contact, usually once or twice a week. He would find me, usually in my shop. If I ever had anything urgent to report, anything that might jeopardize the city’s peace, I was to signal my contact. But it never came to that.”
“What was the signal?”
“I had a pot in one of my shop windows. I was told to simply turn it in the opposite direction.”
Judah nodded. “We are almost done. You are doing well,” he said in a kind voice. These words put Lazarus at ease. It seemed he could see a light at the end of the tunnel.
“What sort of information did you pass on?”
“Not much of importance. At least, it never seemed that important to me. At times I would report on conversations I heard in the taverns or in my shop. Sometimes they had me entertain certain guests to find out more about this or that political issue. For a short time, they even had me go out to the baptizer John and report on his teachings and the tenor of the crowds around him. Did he speak of violent resistance? Did the crowds? I was only there a handful of times before the prophet went to Galilee.”
“Did you ever give information that led to a person’s arrest or death?” Judah asked.
“No!” Lazarus declared. “There was not a single instance in which information I gave led to the harm of a fellow Israelite.”
“That you know of,” said Judah.
“Yes . . . yes, that I know of.”
“Good,” Judah said. “You have told me all I desired to know, and I do believe you have told me the truth.”
“Then you will let me go?”
“Of course,” Judah said. “I am a man of my word. I just need to unbind your hands.”
Lazarus gave a sigh of relief and released the tension from his body. Judah moved behind him, drew his dagger, and in one quick move, slit Lazarus’s throat.
As blood poured out onto his hand, he looked into Lazarus’s stunned eyes and said with a cruel smile, “Treachery is a fickle mistress.”
In a matter of moments, Lazarus was dead. Judah signaled to his men to take his body outside. They sat him up against the alley wall, and with the mason’s own blood, Judah wrote the word “traitor” above him. He turned to look at his men.
“May every Jew hear of this and know the risk of conspiring with the enemy!”
PILATE
The beauty of Pilate’s balcony view had brought him little peace. He had been brooding for the past several hours over the news from his Galilean informants.
Jesus the Galilean prophet.
How could such an insignificant man from such an insignificant town cause the most powerful man in Judea such distress?
A nasty byproduct of the Jewish hope of ruling the world was the occasional lunatic who presented himself to the people as one appointed by God to bring these hopes to fruition. Such figures were never men of means, privilege, or power. Rarely did they even have an education. They usually offered no evidence to support their claims, yet, because of a charismatic personality, a desperate people would believe them and rally around them. These men were unlikely to bring down Rome’s empire, but they could certainly cause trouble—a lot of trouble—if not properly dealt with. They were like a splinter in your finger: unlikely to kill you, but if left unattended, could cause a nasty infection. Diligence was crucial. You had to be adept at identifying and neutralizing these figures quickly.
To date, both Pilate and his predecessors had been quite successful at both. It had been almost thirty years since one of these figures had presented a serious threat to the peace and stability of the region. When the Roman emperor had removed the client king Herod Archelaus and placed Judea under direct Roman control, a certain Judah from Galilee rallied a larger number of people together to revolt. The threat gained ground quickly, but the new governor Varus put this rebellion down and killed Judah. To send a message, he crucified thousands of Jews. This act brought the region a good measure of peace, which allowed the governor to create an effective network of informants and spies that could identify potentially dangerous figures and neutralize them before they became a problem. Over the last two decades, no significant “messiah” had disrupted the peace. A few fanatics had certainly emerged, but Roman diligence had nipped them in the bud.
Pilate himself had had a recent scare with a figure named John—the “baptizer,” they called him. John had challenged the authorities of the Jewish Temple and summoned the common people out into the wilderness for purification of their sins—as if dipping them in the dirty Jordan River could cleanse the soul. It couldn’t even clean a cup! Crowds of people had gone out to John, and many stayed with him and listened to his teaching. This initial popularity had set Pilate on high alert and his first inclinati
on was to send soldiers to arrest John and disperse his followers. The high priest Caiaphas had cautioned against such measures. He argued that arresting a popular prophet might spark the very rioting that Pilate was trying to avoid. Besides, from all he could tell, John seemed more interested in the greater well-being of Jews than in an anti-Roman agenda. Instead, the priest suggested he use informants for close observation and perhaps even infiltration.
Learning from his past mistakes, Pilate decided to listen to the priest, though he soon feared it may have been a mistake. As John’s popularity grew, the political rhetoric began to grow up around him and infiltrate his followers. There was more and more talk about the coming “kingdom of God” in which Israel’s God, through his appointed king, would overthrow all oppressors. Some of John’s closest disciples were trying to convince him to take violent action against both the temple authorities and Rome. When Pilate heard these reports, he prepared to dispatch soldiers. He had listened to the priest long enough and sensed that the flower of rebellion was about to bloom.
But one of Pilate’s informants, a Jew named Zechariah, had gained John’s ear and began to direct his attention to the illegal marriage of Herod Antipas to his brother’s wife, Herodias. Despite strong voices calling for violent action against Roman occupation of Jerusalem, they could not dissuade John—as a prophet of God, it was his responsibility to call the rulers of the land to account for their sins and demand repentance. Thus, just as soldiers were leaving Caesarea to deal with this zealous baptizer, he went with a small group of followers to Galilee to do battle with the infidelity of Herod. The great crowds that had followed John disbanded quickly, and the threat to Judea was gone. Pilate had celebrated long and hard the night he received that news! In the end, the priest had been right again.
Only a few months later, Herod had John arrested and not long ago executed. For a brief time, there appeared to be no zealous prophets on the horizon. But now there was this Jesus. As far as Pilate could tell, he began as a popular teacher among the people of Galilee, with some claiming he performed miracles. Apparently, he had come to Jerusalem on a number of occasions, for festivals primarily, but during these visits he had never caused any disturbances or drawn much attention to himself. He did nothing that would draw attention from the local ruling elite or Pilate himself. Pilate had certainly heard his name before in the reports from his informants, but all reports on Jesus were innocuous. He was a religious teacher, perhaps marginally controversial to his own people, yet seemingly apolitical. Ultimately, he gave Pilate little cause for concern.
