Killing a Messiah

by Adam Winn

  “Who grants the power to mint such coins?” Jesus asked.

  “Rome,” one Pharisee replied.

  Jesus nodded and said to them both, “Give to Rome what is Rome’s, and to God what is God’s.” His inquisitors certainly did not expect such an answer, and it took a moment for those in the crowd to gather its meaning and implication. Slowly Caleb heard audible indications of understanding, but it was clear that many still did not fully grasp the significance of the answer.

  But in a way, it wasn’t an answer at all. Jesus simply turned the question back on his questioners. He forced them to determine what might belong to God and what might belong to Rome. Perhaps one could say the coin belonged to Caesar, as he granted the power for it to be minted in the first place, and thus it should be returned to him: “Give the pagan emperor back his pagan money.” Or perhaps it meant that taxes belonged to Caesar, but all else belonged to God. Or perhaps more radically than these first two answers, one might conclude that all belonged to God and thus Rome was left nothing!

  Caleb smiled as the impact of the evasive response fully set in. The two Pharisees, both clearly caught off guard, looked perplexed. They nodded thoughtfully and slowly turned away.

  He then noticed that they met what looked like two ranking priests on the edge of the crowd. Some sort of argument ensued, and the Pharisees walked away in anger. At that moment, the reason for the question became clear to Caleb: they were not asking on their own behalf, but on behalf of the priests. It seemed the leaders of the city were the ones behind this trap.

  In the early evening, Jesus told the crowd that he must depart. As he did so, his followers closed in around him and they began to move toward the east. While some of the crowd dispersed, some followed the prophet and his entourage to the gate and outside the city.

  As Caleb and Jacob made their way across the courtyard in the opposite direction, Jacob was ecstatic about the teaching of the prophet, and Caleb could understand why. Jesus was charismatic and inspiring. There was just something about him. They exited the Temple Mount and parted ways, as Jacob and his family were dinning with friends that night.

  Caleb headed toward home and wondered about this prophet. He was hard to figure. He entered the city as a conquering king, to great praise and fanfare. He spoke of a new kingdom of peace, justice, and prosperity. These were the actions and language of a messianic figure who envisioned a new and glorious age of Israel and the fall of Israel’s oppressors, the Romans. This was seditious by any measure, and the crowds that hung on his words knew it.

  But certain things were missing from his teaching that one might expect. He said nothing negative about Rome or its power. He never said a word about the governor, Pilate, or the emperor, Tiberius. He criticized the temple and its leadership, but not Rome. Not once in his call for people to enact the coming kingdom of God in the here and now did he encourage violent resistance, revolution, or revolt. While many who listened to him thought they heard such a call, he never gave it. Was he being coy and employing the rhetoric of subtlety? Was he enticing his audience to action through his implicit message while creating a veneer of nonviolent resistance? Or did he envision a divine intervention in which God would send his angels to defeat his enemies while the righteous watched with joy?

  As Caleb was lost in these thoughts, he felt hands grab him. His feet went out from under him as he was pulled toward a small alley. He fought to regain his feet, but his heels only slipped on the loose dirt. The firm grip around his neck and arm tightened, and as his breath failed, his panic soared. With his one free arm he swung and grasped wildly. His fist finally met something hard and pain shot through his hand. His assailant was unfazed; the grip tightened. His hope was failing, and his mind flooded with the horrors of a traitor’s end. Then the light of day vanished, and he realized he had been dragged into a dark room. His heart sank.

  As quickly as it had seized him, the grip around his neck loosened. He was spun around and thrown against a wall, with a strong arm pressed against his throat and a hand placed firmly over his mouth. He looked into a face shadowed by a dark hood. With a nod of the man’s head, the hood fell back, and Caleb saw his assailant’s face—Judah!

  “Quiet!” His cousin whispered as he slowly lowered his hand.

  Anger flared in Caleb’s face, but he followed his cousin’s command. “What are you doing?!” he whispered.

  “I am so sorry, Cousin, but I needed to talk with you, and I could not risk being seen!”

  “You scared me! I thought I was going to be robbed and killed!” Caleb stammered. It was a partial lie. The truth was that Caleb had thought someone had discovered he was an informant—that his treason would cost him his life.

  “I know,” said Judah, “and for that I am truly sorry. But I had to get you into a private place without anyone seeing me. They are searching for me! I couldn’t risk any other way of contacting you. Your house is being watched.” Caleb gave a surprised look and wondered if it was true. Had Judah seen Caleb’s contact watching the house and waiting for a signal? Perhaps the contact was watching for Judah too?

  As Caleb’s fear and anger waned, he saw Judah’s face more clearly. It was gaunt. Heavy bags under his eyes betrayed sleepless nights. “I understand,” Caleb said in a low, calm voice. “Are you okay, Cousin? I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks. Your family has told everyone you are on a journey to Tarsus for family business.”

  “Yes,” Judah replied. “That is the story they have told. I have been in hiding, not too far from the city. But I have been away from my family too long and need to tell them I am safe. I also fear that without my ability to work, financial hardship will fall on them. This is why I came to find you. I was smuggled into the city in a wagon this morning and will depart tomorrow the same way, but I need you to go to my family and tell them I am safe. I also ask that you help them with their needs, if you are able. They are too proud to ask, but if you can spare any money, I am certain they will need it. Tell them I gave it to you. They are more likely to take it then.”

  Caleb nodded and embraced him. “Yes, of course, Cousin! I will go to your family tonight and give them news of your safety. I will give them money as well. Business has been good, and I can spare it. I assure you they will have no need while you are away! You look hungry. I have a loaf of bread if you want it.”

  Judah’s eyes widened. “Yes, please! I have had little to eat in the last week.” He eagerly took the bread from Caleb and began to devour it.

  “May I ask where you have been? Where are you staying?” Caleb asked.

  “There are friends of the cause in many villages outside the city,” Judah said. “Some of them have welcomed me in and hidden me. Most recently, I have come from Bethany. A man there allows many enemies of the state to sleep in his secret basement. It is quite large and often crowded. Just last night, the prophet Jesus and his closest followers stayed there.”

  This mention of Jesus grabbed Caleb’s attention. His contact had told him to look for any information that would help locate Jesus’ whereabouts at night. “He did?” he asked. “I have been listening to him in the temple courtyard the last two days. What do you make of him?”

  “Not much,” Judah answered. “It was hard to get close to him with his disciples always surrounding him. They are quite protective of him.” Caleb nodded and tried not to appear overly interested.

  “I did get a chance to talk with one of his disciples, though,” Judah went on. “We talked for a bit. He shared my name—and my passion for the cause. I asked him about his master and whether he was a friend of the cause. He was reluctant to talk about it at first; the question seemed to frustrate him. But as I probed, he loosened his tongue. He was beginning to have reservations about his master’s ambitions. He came to Jerusalem believing they were on a quest for liberation, but he wasn’t sure of that anymore. He said Jesus had been talking a lot about his death, like he envisioned himself as a martyr. ‘Martyrdom is not what I signed up for,’ he sai
d. He then told me he had said too much and needed to get back to his friends.”

  Caleb nodded and said as casually as he could, “That is interesting. Dissension in the ranks, then?”

  “That was the impression I got,” said Judah indifferently, “at least with this one man. I can’t really speak to the rest of them.” Judah paused and shook his head in frustration. “Fate is a treacherous mistress,” he muttered angrily.

  “What do you mean by that?” Caleb asked.

  “I mean the timing of the events is always fated to frustrate. We had been waiting for something to spark the fire of rebellion in the people. And now this prophet is on the scene, a perfect catalyst—and if he’s committed to martyrdom, all the better! But now we are scattered, some in prison and some in hiding, with no power to take advantage of the situation.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “I am sorry, Cousin,” Caleb replied. He wanted to steer the conversation back to Jesus if he could. “Perhaps this man was wrong about Jesus? I have heard him talk of a future kingdom. He entered the city as Simeon Maccabeus once did, as a conqueror! I saw it with my own eyes. Surely it is possible he has ambitions of revolution?”

  “Perhaps,” replied Judah, “but this disciple of his did not believe so. Who would know better?”

  “More time with his disciples might reveal a different purpose. Would it be possible to join them?” Caleb asked.

  “That would be impossible,” Judah replied. “They will not be returning again to the same place to sleep. They never stay in the same place more than one night, and I have no idea where they might be next.”

  Caleb’s heart sank. Judah would be of little help locating the prophet at night. But perhaps there was another way forward. “As I said, I have seen this man and his disciples for the past two days in the temple courtyard. What did the disciple look like, the one you spoke with?” It was a risky question to ask, but he hoped his cousin would answer it without much thought.

  Judah looked curiously at Caleb, then answered, “He is shorter than the rest, with a thick nose, sparse beard, and round face.” He paused. “Oh, and he has a large brown mole on his cheek. I can’t remember which one, but it is hard to miss. Why do you ask?” From the description, Caleb knew instantly the disciple Judah had spoken with.

  “No reason; just curious, I guess. I think I have seen that disciple,” Caleb said casually. Judah seemed to accept this.

  Caleb decided to change the subject: “Where are you staying tonight, Cousin?”

  Judah was slow to respond, and Caleb wondered if he had pushed too hard and raised suspicion. But Judah’s response relieved those concerns. Looking down, he said, “I am ashamed to tell you, Cousin. It is a place of ill repute. But it is the safest place for me now.”

  “You will find no judgment here,” Caleb said compassionately. “I will do all that I can to help you. And until you can return, I will make sure your family lacks nothing.”

  “You are kind, Caleb,” Judah said, “but that might be a larger promise than you can keep. I am not sure I will ever be able to return.” These words pained Caleb’s heart, and in that moment he decided he must to something to help. But what?

  Caleb embraced him and said, “Things can change, Judah. Until they do, I will care for your family.”

  Tears filled Judah’s eyes as he pulled his hood over his head. In a broken voice he whispered, “Thank you.”

  He disappeared out the door into the alley, and Caleb wondered if he would ever see him again. In the last few moments a plan had been formulating in his head. If it worked as he hoped, he might be able to save his cousin and make amends for the betrayal that had forced him to flee the city. But there was no time to lose!

  He headed directly for his shop. It was closed for the night, but he was scheduled to meet his contact in the back room. It was only a few minutes after he arrived when he heard a sharp knock at the back door. He quickly ushered in his contact and said, “I have important information, but I must deliver it to Aaron directly.” This response surprised the contact, who at first seemed flustered by the request and then refused it. But Caleb insisted.

  “This is highly irregular,” the man said. “I don’t think Aaron will be willing to meet you again.”

  “It is information about the location of the prophet Jesus—his nightly whereabouts. I think he might be willing to meet me on that account,” Caleb said smugly.

  The man’s eyes grew wide. After a moment’s pause he said, “I will ask Aaron if he will meet with you, but I cannot promise you he will. You may have to tell me, and I will relay the information to him.”

  Caleb gave the man a cold stare. “You will never hear this information from me. Aaron will hear it from my lips or no one will.”

  The man’s cheeks reddened with anger. “Don’t leave the shop!” he said as he left quickly through the back door, leaving Caleb to wait.

  After a half-hour that seemed like an eternity to Caleb, the man returned. It seemed his anger had cooled, though there was still irritation in his voice. “He will meet you in one hour at the same place you first met. Don’t be late.” Not waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the night.

  An hour later, Caleb found himself sitting at the same table in the same tavern where he had sat at just over a month before. He was looking into the same hooded face, the face of Aaron.

  When they first met, Caleb had believed the name was symbolic, a clever reference to Moses and the brother who served as his mouthpiece. But over the last month, Caleb had given great thought to who he might be working for. There were not many options to choose from. The man was not Roman, and Caleb believed it unlikely that he worked for the Romans. This meant he likely represented a powerful Jewish family, probably a priestly one. The money he could offer certainly suggested this, as did his appearance: smooth unweathered skin, finely groomed beard, and the odor of flowers. It was a familiar smell that Caleb couldn’t place at first, but it came to him later. It was the smell of a certain incense burned at the temple. Yes, the man was clearly a priest from a powerful family.

  But what family? All the pieces had come together two days before, when Caleb had been on the Temple Mount. The high priest Caiaphas and his brothers had crossed the outer courtyard and entered the temple proper. There was something familiar about one of the high priest’s brothers that triggered Caleb’s memory. The nose or jawline, perhaps? He asked someone standing close by the names of Caiaphas’s brothers, and when the man gave the name Aaron, Caleb knew the truth. Now sitting before the man again, he had no doubt that he was meeting with the brother of the high priest of Israel. The man across from him represented the most powerful man in Jerusalem. It was just such a man that could deliver what Caleb was about to ask.

  Aaron spoke first. “This meeting is highly unusual. It is my custom to meet only once. But apparently you have something very important that you can only discuss with me? I am here and ready to listen.”

  “I recognize that this meeting is irregular,” said Caleb, “and I thank you for meeting me at this late hour. The information I have is certainly important and, given your presence here, presumably of great value to you.”

  Though the priest’s face remained impassive, Caleb thought he caught a glimmer of anger in his eyes.

  He said nothing, so Caleb continued, “I have information about Jesus’ nocturnal movements and residence.”

  “I am listening,” said Aaron.

  “I have it on good authority that he never stays in the same place twice,” said Caleb. “He knows the authorities are searching for him, and thus he stays on the move.”

  “This is not news to us,” said Aaron, frustration in his voice. “But can you tell me where he will be in the next few nights?”

  “I cannot,” said Caleb.

  Unmistakable anger flashed across Aaron’s face. In a voice that worked hard to conceal that anger, the priest said, “Then why did you bring me here? If you have wasted my time, I swear you will re
gret it.”

  Caleb remained calm. “I don’t know where he will be staying, but I know someone who does—someone who might be willing to help you . . . for the right price.”

  He had regained Aaron’s interest. “Go on,” the priest said curtly.

  “I have learned that one of the prophet’s closest followers is unhappy with him and that his loyalty is wavering. He seems to be a weak link that you could take advantage of.”

  Caleb noticed the priest lean in closer to him.

  “Which follower?” he asked.

  He had the priest hooked. It was now time to make his request.

  “I will tell you, and I will even help you in approaching him, but I also have something I need from you first.”

  Aaron looked surprised. “We are already giving you a significant amount of money. Do you demand more?”

  “No,” said Caleb, “I don’t want more money. I want you to protect someone for me.”

  “Protect someone?” Aaron’s tone reflected both surprise and indignation. “What do you mean?”

  “My cousin Judah is being hunted by the Romans. He is a suspect in the murder of five Roman soldiers. I tell you that he is completely innocent. He was with me the night of those murders, and he had nothing to do with them. I want the Romans to stop pursuing him. I want them to stop harassing his family. He must be left alone. If you can promise me this, I will give you the information you desire.”

  Aaron’s eyes were wide, and he looked stunned. “What makes you think I can help you with this . . . this extreme request?”

  Caleb paused for a moment, looking the priest directly in the eyes. “I know who you are,” he said. “I know who you represent. Your brother is the most powerful man in Jerusalem. If he cannot help my cousin, then I am afraid no one can.”

  These words clearly took Aaron by surprise. He sat silently, looking at Caleb with piercing eyes. It seemed the priest was deciding the best way to proceed.