Killing a Messiah

by Adam Winn

  But in the last year, things had changed. Pilate’s informants in the north had noted a quick increase in Jesus’ popularity, and with it, rumblings that Jesus was the long-awaited deliverer the Jews had been waiting for. Though surprised by these reports, Pilate had acted quickly. He sent additional spies to gather more information. Of these, he instructed a handful to get close to the prophet. He would employ the same strategy that worked so well with the baptizer.

  Locating Jesus took some time, but after doing so, joining the large group that traveled with him was easy. It seemed anyone who was willing to leave their home and family to follow this man could do so. But gaining access to him, learning of his plans, and winning his confidence proved to be much harder. He had surrounded himself with twelve men whom he had personally selected, and who had been with him for at least two years. While Jesus would teach the crowd of disciples that followed him, and was certainly friends with many of them, he shared nothing of his plans, intentions, or purpose with them. He was affable with them, and even seemed genuinely concerned about their lives and needs. Such concern, combined with his magnetism and charisma, no doubt drew them to Jesus. But Jesus took none from this larger group into his confidence, nor did he seek their advice or confide in them. Presumably the twelve men he had hand selected had such access and privilege. Jesus and his chosen twelve would often separate from the crowd, only to rejoin them later. It was clear that following them or even asking questions regarding their plans or destination was not acceptable. Such secrecy alone worried Pilate. Drawing conclusions from lack of evidence was always dangerous, but Pilate had no choice but to fear the worst of these secret meetings.

  Without direct access to Jesus, all Pilate’s information came from Jesus’ teaching to the larger group. In reading reports, Pilate found himself sitting on the edge of both terror and relief. Aspects of Jesus’ teaching seemed anti-Roman. He spoke frequently about the “kingdom of God” being at hand, clearly a reference to the hopes of Israel to one day rule the world. This kingdom would bring woe to the rich and powerful—no doubt Rome and its allies—and empower the impoverished (the image of peasants trying to rule the world always amused Pilate until he thought about the dangers of them attempting to do so). This kingdom would start out small, like a mustard seed, but grow into a massive tree—no doubt a reference to this small and insignificant group one day ruling the world. Jesus even critiqued the temple, a building he claimed was built with unrighteous wealth, and spoke of God destroying the current temple and establishing a new and righteous one in the kingdom of God. The people hung on these words that resonated with their deepest hopes. Such rhetoric was certainly cause for concern.

  But at the same time, Jesus never spoke of violent revolution—at least not openly. In fact, he often spoke of nonviolence, directing his followers to pray for their enemies and to not return their slights or insults. And perhaps most confounding was the fact that Jesus resisted any clear identification with a political deliverer or messianic figure. Speculation ran rampant not only among those who followed him, but throughout the towns and villages of Galilee as well. While many were convinced he was indeed the one whom their god had raised up to bring about the promised kingdom, others were unsure.

  It wasn’t that Jesus said nothing in this regard, but that he seemed purposefully equivocal. He frequently identified himself as the “son of man.” One of Pilate’s Jewish informants told him that the designation was ambiguous, that it could indeed be a reference to the messianic figure found in some prophetic writing, but that it could also simply be an innocent form of self-address. On the rare occasion that someone openly identified him as a messiah or king, Jesus never denied it, but he did instruct them to be silent. Was he denying the title? Was he merely being humble? Or coy?

  Pilate was having a hard time putting all the pieces together. He could not be sure whether Jesus was a political threat or not. But ultimately, in such cases, certainty is not necessary—security is. By exciting the masses, this Galilean prophet was playing with fire, and his inner intentions mattered little. Whether he intended to be or not, this Jesus was a threat that must be dealt with swiftly. Waiting for him to make his purposes known could be disastrous.

  But when it came to direct action, Pilate’s hands were tied. Galilee was under the authority of Herod Antipas. The thought of the pretentious and pampered tetrarch turned Pilate’s stomach, but he had no other choice than to rely on him to deal with this problem. He would send copies of his reports to Herod and request that, for the security of the region, he neutralize and eliminate the prophet as quickly as possible.

  As Pilate called for his secretary to compose a letter to Herod, he had little hope that it would accomplish the task. And if this Galilean Jesus set his eyes on Jerusalem, Pilate must be prepared to deal with him.

  CALEB

  It was a slow day in the shop, and Caleb was having difficulty focusing on his responsibilities. His thoughts shifted between concern for his failing business and the meeting he might have that evening.

  Caleb had thought about the proposal all night. Information —that is all the man said he wanted, and that he would pay well for it. He didn’t say who wanted the information, or what kind was wanted, but in his heart Caleb knew enough. Information was wanted by those in power—by Rome. And no doubt the Romans would use it to maintain their ongoing occupation of Jerusalem. He didn’t need to know any more than that. This man was asking Caleb to be a traitor to his people. The thought made his stomach turn.

  But there was an offer of money, and Caleb needed money badly. The thought of his family losing the shop and their home was more painful than the thought of treachery. He would at least listen to the man’s offer. It couldn’t hurt to listen. How much information did these people want, and what kind of information were they looking for? Would the information directly hurt anyone? And how much money was it worth? No, it wouldn’t hurt to listen, to learn more.

  The mysterious visitor had met him again early that morning as he was making his way to the pottery shop. It was still dark outside, and he was startled by the hand on his shoulder. All he said was, “If you are interested in my proposal, meet me in the alley behind your shop as soon as you arrive.”

  So before opening the shop, Caleb made his way to the alley and saw the man standing in a dark corner. He was clearly trying to remain unseen. Caleb approached and said, “I am interested in your proposal, but I have questions.” The man placed a finger to his lips. In a low voice he said, “Not here.” He handed Caleb a small piece of broken pottery with a bit of writing scrawled on it. “If you are interested, be at this location at the first watch of the night. Find a table in the back where the light is low. He will find you. Wait until he does.” The man quickly turned and walked away.

  Confused, Caleb called out, “Wait, who will find me?” The man did not turn around and soon disappeared around the corner. Caleb looked down at the piece of pottery. He had heard of the location, a tavern on the edge of the city, but he had never been there. It had a poor reputation, and few devout Jews would ever darken its doors. Would he be so bold as to do so tonight?

  His recollection of the morning’s earlier events was interrupted by someone calling his name. “Caleb.” “Caleb?” “Caleb!” Caleb turned to see his cousin Judah standing close by. “What are you so lost in thought about, Cousin?” Judah asked.

  “Oh, sorry, Judah!” Caleb answered. “I was just reviewing the month’s profits in my head—or, uh, lack of profits. Forgive me.”

  “No forgiveness necessary. How are things?” Judah asked. “I have heard rumors that business has not been good as of late. I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

  Caleb shook his head, indicating he did not mind the question. “Things have been slow, but that is not too unusual this time of year,” he lied. “Things should pick up as we approach Passover.” Perhaps this was not a lie, but it certainly communicated a confidence Caleb lacked.

  “Ah, the festival!” Jud
ah replied. “That should give you a good boost, to be sure! That is, if the new tax is not too high.” He uttered these last words with an air of disgust, and Caleb perceived them as bait. He did not take it.

  “Yes, such a new tax could be problematic, but as you know, we shopkeepers are seeking a way to navigate it, should it come about.”

  “Yes, of course,” replied Judah, “but it is a shame you should even have to. Price adjustments to overcome taxation only hurt the people, those who come on pilgrimage as well as those in the city. Everyone loses, except the damned Romans!”

  There it was. It always came to a rant about the “damned Romans”—he had heard these rants many times.

  “They are killing us, Caleb!” Judah exclaimed. “Not with the sword, though they are happy to do that when given the opportunity, but by crushing the life out of us slowly. How long do you think the people will stand for it? How long will they tolerate high taxes, abusive soldiers in the streets, privilege of the elite, and the pagan pollution of our holy city? The tensions in the city are high, Cousin; you know this as well as I do. They are bound to reach a breaking point soon.”

  “Yes, times are indeed hard,” Caleb granted. “And yes, tensions are high. But what can really be done?” He regretted those last words as soon as they left his lips.

  “Much more can be done than you think, Cousin. Even now, people in the city prepare to take action against our oppressors. Resistance is on the minds of many, and action will soon follow. You heard about the five slaughtered Roman soldiers—that is action, and proof that Rome can bleed! There are far more of us than them, Caleb. If we could join together and organize, we could drive them out of this city!”

  “Yes, I have heard of the attack on the soldiers,” Caleb replied, “but it does not bring me the hope it brings you. I fear retribution will come of it. People will suffer. And perhaps you are right that we could drive them out of the city, Judah, but what then? Do you honestly believe Rome will stand for that? There might be very few soldiers here now, but open rebellion will bring countless legions. What price do we all pay then? I think you know.”

  “You of little faith, Cousin!” Judah exclaimed.

  Caleb would have quieted him, but seeing no one else in his shop, he let it go.

  Judah continued, “Do you forget that God is on our side? Have you not read the stories of old—the stories of God joining his people in battle and routing his enemies, and against far worse odds than we face? If we reclaimed this holy city, surely the Lord would help us defend it! His dwelling, the temple, rests on Mount Zion, and as he has promised, he will not abandon his faithful ones.”

  “Not all see violence against Rome as faithfulness, Cousin,” Caleb replied. “Many see it as presumption—an attempt to force God’s hand.”

  “The path of cowards,” Judah snorted. “The proclaimers of faith who have no true faith!”

  “Men of devout faith see things differently, Judah.” As Caleb said these words, thoughts of his father came to his mind.

  Judah shook his head in discouragement. “It seems circumstances have not changed your mind, Caleb. The beliefs of your father still grip your heart. He was a good man, to be sure; I don’t mean to slander him or his faith. But perhaps increased injustice and difficulty will change you. When your anger grows great enough, you may see things differently. When that day comes, Cousin, you must find me. You would be an excellent asset to the cause. Action might come sooner than you think, and you will want to be on the right side when it does.”

  “What do you know, Judah?” Caleb asked. “Do you know of plans that will bring violence?”

  “Not exactly,” Judah answered, “but Passover is coming. The city will grow to five times its size, and all minds will be dwelling on God’s deliverance from Egypt. What better time could there be? I also hear rumors that Jesus, the popular prophet from Nazareth, will likely be coming. From what I hear, his teaching has turned more and more to talk of the coming kingdom of God. Many are wondering if he might be God’s anointed, the Messiah. It hardly seems likely to me, but in him and his followers, our movement might find allies—and he might prove to be a catalyst to move people to action.”

  The plausibility of these words gripped Caleb with fear. “God help us all if what you say is true. I am sorry, but I must get back to work—and I can’t have customers hear us talking of these things.”

  “You know where to find me, Cousin. You are always welcome at my side.” With these confident last words, Judah turned and left the shop.

  Caleb generally assumed talk of violent resistance against Rome was just that—talk. But the way Judah spoke had awoken him to the reality that a violent response to Roman occupation was possible—perhaps even probable. That thought truly terrified him; he knew how such resistance would ultimately end. But at the same time another thought entered his mind. This conversation with Judah had provided Caleb with new information—information that might prove profitable at his meeting later that evening.

  The day passed slowly as Caleb anxiously thought about the meeting. The day’s lack of customers made it so there was little to distract his mind. He closed the shop a bit early and told his sister he had an important business meeting and was uncertain when he would be home. Thankfully, she didn’t ask any questions. She told him she would have dinner ready for him when he got home and kissed him on the cheek as he walked out the door.

  Sweet sister, he thought, If all goes well tonight you will never have to know of the dire financial hardship we face. As the sun was setting, Caleb made his way toward the edge of the city.

  It took Caleb a bit longer than he thought to reach the tavern, as it had been many years since he had ventured into that part of the city. By the time he arrived there was little light in the sky. Thankfully, he had not seen anyone he knew along the way. Any questions they might have asked would either require him to lie or face embarrassment and further explanation. That was a choice he didn’t want to make.

  The tavern was poorly lit, and there were no windows. The air was stale, and the odor was a combination of sweat and sour wine. The tavern’s owner was a big man, bald headed with hairy arms. A large scar ran across his right cheek. He looked suspiciously at Caleb, then waved his hand toward the tables, indicating he could sit anywhere. Few tables were occupied, which relieved Caleb. The appearance of those present suggested an unsavory identity, which made Caleb feel ill at ease. As instructed, he took a seat toward the back of the tavern, and a young girl soon appeared to take his order. Upon hearing the few options available, Caleb ordered a barley stew and red wine. Almost immediately after the girl had departed, Caleb was startled by a hooded man who slipped in across from him. In a firm but calm voice, the man said, “Be at ease, I am the one you are here to meet.”

  The cloak cast a shadow over his face, but Caleb could tell that man was older than himself, perhaps in his late forties or early fifties. His skin was smooth and well cared for, and his beard was well groomed. Caleb also noticed that the man did not smell bad, and in fact carried a very faint odor of flowers—a pleasant reprieve from the dominant odors of the tavern. These features relaxed Caleb a bit, and he said, “I am Caleb son of Saul, may I ask your name?”

  “I know who you are,” the man replied, “and you will call me Aaron, as I am only the mouthpiece for one greater than myself.” Caleb perceived the obvious reference to the brother of the great prophet and lawgiver Moses. There was a brief pause. Finally, the man spoke: “I am assuming that your coming here indicates you are willing to aid us with information.”

  “Not necessarily,” Caleb replied, though he knew this was largely a lie—and he suspected the man knew so as well. “I have many questions I must have answered before I agree to help you.”

  “Questions are expected,” the man replied, “and I am happy to answer all that I am able.”

  “My thanks,” Caleb said. “Perhaps my most pressing question is, For whom will I be gathering this information? And only slig
htly less pressing, For what purpose?” Again this was a bit of a lie, but the answer was indeed important to Caleb. He continued, “I am a loyal Israelite, devoted to my God and my people. I have no desire to betray either.” Caleb truly believed this . . . or, he deeply wanted to.

  “I appreciate your questions,” the man answered, “and I believe I can give you a reply that is more than satisfactory. I too am a Judean like yourself, born and raised in this very city—the same is true of the one who sent me. You can no doubt tell from my accent that what I say is true.” Caleb nodded, and the man continued. “Let me put your mind further at ease. You will not be gathering information for the Romans, which I would guess is your primary concern. You will be gathering information for your own people, to protect your own people.”

  The words gave Caleb some relief, but also confusion. Apparently recognizing that confusion, the man continued, “These are difficult times for our city. Tensions between the people of Jerusalem and our Roman occupiers are nearing a breaking point. Perhaps you have heard of the recent ambush of Roman soldiers.” Of course, thought Caleb, who in the city had not?

  “While we have had peace in this city for over seventy years, groups composed of our own countrymen seek to jeopardize that peace by organizing violent resistance toward our occupying guests. While such resistance might have a hope of temporary success, the retribution that would descend on our city would be disastrous.” Caleb nodded. It was as if the man was speaking aloud the fears that had struck Caleb earlier that day.