by Adam Winn
As his father moved slowly to the front of the room, a Pharisee named Nicodemus said loudly, “Caiaphas, what is the meaning of this meeting? Why have you called us here so late at night? And before the Passover? How long will you keep us in the dark?” After looking around the room he added, “Those of us who are actually in the dark!”
Caiaphas did not respond but signaled for calm. Slowly the din subsided and he spoke. “I know you are all wondering why you have been called here tonight.”
Well, at least a few of you, Eleazar thought.
“As many of you know, a great threat to the peace of our city has emerged this week. On Sunday a prophet rode into our city as a conquering king, to the chants and praises of our own people crying out for deliverance. That same day he challenged the authority and power of our sacred institution the temple and its honorable leadership. From that time on, he has daily spoken traitorous words in the temple courtyard, words that stir up the people and seek to incite them to violence. We all know that such violence would bring turmoil and destruction on the entire city. He also continues to denigrate God’s sacred temple and those who lead it. The leading priests and I have determined that this man is a significant threat to our city and that we must deal with him quickly, lest he sway the people to violent revolution.”
A Pharisee in the crowd yelled out, “A threat he may be, but isn’t this Pilate’s problem? What business do we have addressing this man’s guilt or innocence?”
“Your interruption is not appreciated, Nathaniel, but your question is relevant,” Caiaphas replied. “Pilate has decided that this man is no threat and has told me that he will not seek to arrest him.”
Annas stood up and interrupted. “Pardon me, my son.” Eleazar knew his father despised Annas calling him “son.” “But let me affirm for all of my brothers here that the word you speak is true. Pilate has told me this as well. His choice has revealed his cowardice, and thus it falls on us to protect this city from the violence that looms over us. We must deal with this troublesome prophet ourselves. Tonight, we are called to resolve and strength”—he turned to Caiaphas—“which you, Caiaphas, are showing us now!”
Caiaphas nodded respectfully to his father-in-law. “Thank you, Annas. You honor me, and your words regarding our governor are true indeed.” This necessary deference shown to his treacherous grandfather sickened Eleazar. “If Rome will not act, then we must! The safety of our city must be our greatest concern, and this Galilean prophet is a grave threat.”
Another interruption came from Joseph, son of Isaac, the Pharisee they had suspected of being a sympathizer of the prophet. “If he is such a danger to the city, Caiaphas, why have you waited until now to arrest this man? And why at night? He has been peacefully teaching each day in the temple courts, but you arrest him now, the eve of the great Passover feast. Such a meeting is highly unorthodox. I am inclined to question your motives.”
“You will have your opportunity to speak, Joseph, in the due process of our trial. All will be heard that desire to be heard,” said Caiaphas. “But as for the timing of these events, I assure you there is no hidden agenda or false motive in play. It was only recently that we learned that Pilate himself would do nothing in response to the threat this man posed, and therefore we have moved as quickly as we can to stop him. It was imperative that he be arrested before the feast.”
“I would call that convenient,” interrupted Joseph. These words brought a rumble from the group of Pharisees sitting behind him, which in turn led to a similar response from many of the priests. A division among the council was evident.
The presence of opposition to the arrest and trial of Jesus bothered Eleazar. He knew they would have enough votes to convict Jesus and bring him before Pilate, but the blindness of these Pharisees who saw something worth protecting in this man was disturbing.
Caiaphas quieted the room again and reiterated that all would have their chance to speak. He then brought out Jesus and read to him the charges of sedition and disturbance of the peace. To these charges the prophet said nothing. “Do you understand these accusations?” asked Caiaphas. Again, the prophet said nothing, but nodded his head.
Eleazar tried to read him. It was hard to put his finger on it. Jesus didn’t seem angry or frightened. He seemed . . . sad? Yes, that was it. Sad.
“We will now hear testimony against this man. No charge will be considered for a vote by the council unless supported by the testimony of two or more witnesses, pursuant to the divine mandate of our law.”
Several witnesses were brought forward. They testified to Jesus’ entry into the city and its seditious nature. “He clearly presented himself as a king,” one claimed. “He made no effort to quiet the people who were calling for him to bring salvation to our city,” said another. Many testified to Jesus’ demonstration in the temple courtyard, his turning over the tables of the money changers and his threat to those selling animals, though interpretations of the significance varied. Some saw it as an act of rebellion against Jerusalem’s leadership. Others saw it as symbolizing the destruction of the temple itself, which one person even claimed he had heard Jesus say was impending. Another claimed he heard Jesus say he would destroy the temple, though others contested this claim. Many testified to Jesus’ denigration of the temple’s leadership and his challenging of its authority, an authority established both by Rome and by God. These teachings were treasonous, and even blasphemous to some. Virtually to a man, the witnesses claimed that Jesus was an imminent threat to the city’s peace and that his actions revealed him as guilty of sedition.
After these witnesses had given their testimony, Caiaphas turned to Jesus and asked if he had anything to say in his defense to the charges. He simply shook his head, which brought a surprised reaction from the council members. Caiaphas then asked, “If the defendant will not speak on his own behalf, is there anyone here who would like to speak for him?”
The Pharisee Joseph, who had spoken at the outset of the meeting, rose and slowly made his way to the front of the room. A murmur began, but slowly died down as he stood looking around at his fellow council members. He then addressed them: “Members of this upstanding and long-established council, tonight we are asked to vote on the guilt or innocence of a prophet who is beloved by the people of this fine city. You have heard copious amounts of testimony supporting the charges of his guilt. I speak to his innocence. Of first order, I ask you all, what is this man truly guilty of? Does he speak of a coming kingdom of God? Oh, the shame! On this charge, you would have to arrest each and every Pharisee in this room and those living throughout our land, all of whom look with eager expectation for such a new divine kingdom to dawn in our midst. And we teach our people to look for the same! You Sadducees may reject this vision of our future as well as the prophets who cast such a vision, but we are able to live peaceably enough together. You do not hand us over to the Romans for sedition because of such hopes and teaching. And why not? Because we are deeply committed to nonviolence, and we reject any ideology of violent resistance against our Roman occupiers. I ask you, is this man truly any different? Has he taken up a sword? Has he instructed anyone to do so? I understand the fear that he could, but until this happens, has he truly committed a crime? I daresay he has not!
“And what of his critique of the temple and its leadership, which now fills the seats of this room? He has critiqued the lot of you, but he has said no worse than some of you have said about each other!” He looked slowly from Caiaphas to Annas.
“If the truth be told, some of us Pharisees may have said an unkind word or two about you leading Sadducees from time to time. I don’t doubt you have also returned the favor. But are such words, such critiques, truly crimes? If so, then bind your own hands and step forward for the same punishment. It is true that some of you see this man as a threat. And, to be quite honest, I am stunned that our governor does not. But threat or no threat, I see no grounds for this council to convict this man. If Rome finds him guilty, so be it.”
/> A shout came from the audience: “What of this man’s entry into the city as a conquering king? That is an act of sedition if ever there was one! You can’t deny that, Joseph!”
The Pharisee looked in the direction of the accuser. “I believe the floor is mine until I give it up, Jonathan. But I will speak to this charge by simply asking, are we to condemn a man for his popularity with the people? Can anyone control the masses? Sedition requires more than popularity and palm branches.”
It was a weak defense, and it seemed Joseph himself knew it. Although the crowd listened to his earlier remarks, this last statement brought derision. In the face of such a response, Joseph returned to his seat.
Caiaphas again stepped to the front of the room. “Is there anyone else who would speak on this man’s behalf?” When it became clear that no one else would come forward, Caiaphas said, “If no one else wishes to speak, as is our custom, we will take an open vote on this man’s guilt. All who find this man innocent of the crimes of sedition and disturbance of the peace, raise your hands.”
As expected, the Pharisees followed the lead of Joseph and raised their hands. But when Caiaphas called for the guilty votes, almost fifty hands went in the air, sealing the prophet’s fate. Caiaphas faced Jesus and told him that he had been found guilty of the charges brought against him. Again, he asked Jesus if he had any words for the council. Again, he remained silent.
Caiaphas then addressed the council. “You have found this man guilty of crimes punishable by death, though you yourselves know that we do not have the authority of life and death. We will present this man to Pilate and ask him to honor the will of the council.”
At these words, Joseph and his supporters got up and walked out in protest. Caiaphas continued without acknowledging their departure. “It is late, and we should all go home and get some sleep. But I ask you all to meet me at Herod’s palace early in the morning. If Pilate stays his current course, he may be resistant to our request. The more members of the council there are, together with those who support its wishes, the more likely we are to persuade our governor.” These words brought many verbal affirmations.
The members of the council then departed, and the temple guards took Jesus to a private room in the house. There was a bed where he could sleep if he desired, though he remained bound with guards at his door.
Exhausted after the events of the day, Eleazar went to bed. The next day would surely be another long one.
CALEB
Caleb awoke before dawn after a much-needed night’s rest. Today was sure to prove eventful. He had been instructed to go to the open courtyard outside the governor’s palace where Pilate administered judicial business. He was told to observe the events that occurred and spread word of those events in a variety of different places in the city. Whatever was going to happen, the ranking priests of Jerusalem wanted it to be known to the masses.
Caleb hurriedly ate a quick breakfast of bread and dry fish before departing for the palace. Built by Herod the Great, the palace was located in the northwest corner of the city. Its western wall was also the outer wall of the city, and three large towers adorned the northern wall. These towers were exquisitely designed, made of white marble and surrounded by white marble columns on the upper third of the towers. They stood well over a hundred feet tall. Herod had named one after his brother, another after a friend, and the third, the shortest of the three, after his wife Mariamne, a woman he dearly loved but ultimately had executed for suspicion of treason. Caleb had never been inside the palace, nor had anyone he knew. But the descriptions of the palace’s inner beauty—its grand banquet halls, gardens, fountains, endless porticoes, grand courtyards, and lavishly decorated bedrooms—were reported throughout the city.
He arrived at first light of day, but it was dark enough that the torches in the courtyard were still lit. A crowd was already gathering. A significant number of priests near the main entrance of the palace had drawn spectators, no doubt curious as to why priests would be outside the governor’s dwelling so early in the morning. The courtyard was surrounded by porticoes with large columns, and Caleb made his way forward along the northernmost portico. He wanted to see and hear what was happening, but he also wanted to remain out of the way, so he stayed near the columns. As he stood there, more and more priests joined the group already present.
As he was observing the priests, Caleb heard a commotion behind him. He turned to look and saw the high priest, Caiaphas, leading a procession that included his brothers and other ranking priests. Behind them were at least fifteen temple guards surrounding a man bound in shackles. It was the prophet Jesus! They were clearly bringing him to the governor for trial, but why were there so many priests? And why was Caleb being asked to observe this spectacle and to tell others about it? These things made no sense at all.
As the procession approached the palace entry, the assembled crowd of priests parted to make way. Shortly after, a Roman soldier came through the entrance and spoke with Caiaphas. After a moment, the soldier departed. For a good ten minutes or more nothing happened in the courtyard, but more and more people gathered around the porticoes to observe whatever was about to unfold.
Then the Roman governor himself appeared at the top of the stairway up to the palace entrance. At the base of the stairs stood the crowd of priests and the prisoner, Jesus. Four Roman soldiers were behind the governor. One brought out a chair, a judicial seat from which the governor would hand out legal verdicts—though Pilate did not sit in the chair.
The governor addressed the crowd in a voice that all in the courtyard could easily hear. “For what privilege do I owe a visit from Jerusalem’s leading priests? It seems quite early to be conducting any official business—and on the day of a great feast, no less! What is so important that you find the need to disturb me on such a beautiful and peaceful morning?”
“We have an urgent matter that you must deal with immediately, Governor,” Caiaphas replied. “Jesus the Galilean, who has long been regarded as a prophet by our people, now poses a great risk to our city. He presents himself as a conquering king, promotes the replacement of Roman rule with a new kingdom, and defames our temple, its leadership, and the powers that endorse it—your power, Governor. Our great council has conducted a formal trial, and it has found this man guilty of sedition and disturbance of the peace of our city. We feel these crimes are capital in nature, and you alone can pronounce a sentence of capital punishment. It is this sentence we ask of you this morning.”
“These are indeed serious charges,” said Pilate. “And if true, punishment must be enforced. But I am surprised at the number who have come to me this morning. Are so many necessary?”
“Our numbers demonstrate the seriousness and sincerity of our commitment to eliminate this threat to the peace of our city—a threat to the peace of Rome! We come in number so as to be heard.”
“Very well,” said Pilate. “I will interrogate this man myself and determine his guilt or innocence. Bring the prisoner forward!” Jesus was led up to Pilate, who looked him up and down and escorted him into the palace.
Caleb figured this process would not take long. From what he had witnessed of Jesus, he was surely guilty of the crimes the high priest had charged him with. No doubt the Roman governor would be extremely sensitive to such activity. Jesus would likely be crucified that very morning.
The thought made him both sad and frightened. He had grown fond of the prophet; something about him just drew Caleb to him. Maybe the prophet reminded him of his own father in some way. But he was also afraid: the execution of this prophet seemed dangerous. The people loved him. The chance of violent retribution seemed high.
PILATE
Pilate led the guards and his prisoner through the main entrance of the palace grounds into another open courtyard that surrounded the palace proper. They walked through a garden and then into a small room. Both Pilate and Jesus entered while the guards remained outside the door. There was a small desk with a chair behind it, both of wh
ich were facing a larger window that looked out to the garden they had just passed through. There were also chairs opposite the desk, and Pilate motioned for Jesus to sit.
Pilate had known for some time this moment was coming, and he had been ruminating over the best way to handle it. Did he play coy with Jesus, or did he tell him the truth? He wanted to tell him the truth. He wanted to mock his plans for unsettling the city. He wanted to tell him he had been one step ahead of him the entire time. After all, who could Jesus tell? But Pilate told himself that discretion was the right path. Hubris only opened the door to disaster. He would play coy.
“These are serious charges brought against you,” Pilate said. “Are they true? Are you indeed the king of the Jews?” The prophet remained silent, which slightly irritated Pilate.
“You have nothing to say regarding the charges?” he asked. “Do you deny them?” Still nothing. Pilate’s irritation grew. To Pilate, the silence communicated nothing but arrogance. Even in the face of death, he plays the king who is in control.
“Why do you not defend yourself?” he asked. “You realize you are facing death?”
At this, the prophet nodded. “Well, there is some reaction,” Pilate said, annoyed. “Do you not care if you die?” The man only looked back at Pilate.
“You know I have the power to save you?” A slight smile crossed the man’s face. The smile further irritated Pilate. “Do you find that amusing?”
