Killing a Messiah

by Adam Winn

  Best of all, the people believed it! His soldiers and informants stationed at strategic places around the city had been prepared for violent protest, but nothing of the sort ever emerged. Certainly, there was the danger of a slow-burning anger that might erupt in the following days, but Pilate felt confident that if nothing had happened yet, nothing would happen. The celebration of the Passover feast would distract the people from the morning’s events. He would remain vigilant, but for now he felt he could breathe easy.

  The clever way he managed to pawn off the deaths of two additional troublemakers onto Caiaphas also brought a smile to his face. The centurion Cornelius, whom Pilate had brought with him from Caesarea, had told Pilate that Caiaphas was quite unhappy to learn he would be responsible for the execution of additional prisoners. This was no surprise to Pilate, and was of course his intention. He respected the old priest and was pleased with the way he had helped solve this Jesus problem, but it was ultimately a problem of Caiaphas’s own creation. Pilate was not quite ready to let the priest forget this.

  And these men were certainly deserving of execution. There was no doubt they were involved in the attack on the Roman soldiers. But Pilate was troubled by their resolve. Suffering great pain, they had refused to name their coconspirators. Such devotion to a cause was frightening, and death was the only way to end it.

  The man Pilate had released was clearly less important than the crucified ones. Although he had given up little information, it seemed that was because he knew little. Before a hand had been laid on him, he whimpered like a baby. Pilate doubted that he had even been involved in the attack. By releasing him, Pilate was able to add authenticity to his verdict on Jesus while releasing only a harmless prisoner.

  He said a prayer of thanks to the gods for the great fortune that had befallen him that week. While diligent planning played a significant role, Pilate was not arrogant enough to ignore the role that fortune had played. He knew well that the gods could frustrate the best-laid plans of mortals. When he returned to Caesarea Sunday morning, he would honor them properly. The resolution of this threat was yet one more evidence that Roman rule was a divine gift, and the gods would thwart any and all attempts to resist it.

  Shortly before finishing his meal, the through struck him that as he was feasting that night, so were thousands of Jews. But while they partook in a meal celebrating their deliverance from foreign domination, Pilate celebrated yet another thwarting of such deliverance. He took great pleasure in this irony.

  ELEAZAR

  It had now been almost two full days since the crucifixion of the prophet Jesus, and the city was still at peace. Today, Caiaphas was hosting his inner circle of priests for a celebratory midday meal, for they had much to celebrate. They had gotten rid of a dangerous threat and had done so without inciting violent protest. At the same time, they led the people of the city in a successful Passover celebration. The lambs had been slaughtered, the sacrifices had been observed, and the people feasted in peace with their families. Moreover, the previous evening, Caiaphas had received a private letter from Pilate giving him significant credit for maintaining the peace of the city. Pilate also assured him that despite any protests that might arise, he had Rome’s complete support as Jerusalem’s reigning high priest. Less than a week ago, it had appeared that his role, along with the peace of the city he so loved, was in great jeopardy, but now all was well. Indeed, there was much to celebrate!

  Spread before them was an abundance of food, including roast lamb, fresh fish, plates of grapes, figs, dates, and olives, and a variety of fresh breads. Flagons of various wines were also present—strong Jewish wines from Corinth, Alexandria, and even the Italian countryside.

  When the last guest had arrived, Caiaphas addressed them all with a short speech. “My dear brothers! Two nights ago, we celebrated God’s faithful deliverance of our people from the land of Egypt and from slavery. Today we celebrate God’s deliverance of a different kind, a deliverance from the misguided and distorted vision of our own people. Their hatred of foreign occupation keeps them from seeing the great opportunity we have set before us—the opportunity to be a witness to our pagan neighbors of the greatness of our God and the way of life he has bestowed on us. If left to their own devices, the people would bring a second judgment of God down on themselves. As God sent the Babylonians to destroy our temple before, he could send the Romans to do so again. But that judgment will not come today!”

  With these words, Caiaphas raised his glass high and received a chorus of cheers in response. He continued, “Because of the wisdom, diligence, and hard work of those at this table, and with the help of our God, we have delivered our people once again from foreign oppression and destruction. So today we celebrate!” Again, cheers.

  As they ate, stories circulated about the week’s events that were known by some but not all. All praised each other for their efforts and accomplishments. Laughter filled the room as they shared jokes and old stories. Success, together with strong wine, had a way of making everything seem funny.

  Eleazar took particular joy in seeing his father laugh and celebrate. He was a man of great temperance and dedicated moderation, a man who rarely let himself experience life’s pleasures in this way. It was rare that he allowed himself to cross the boundary of sobriety. But Eleazar knew how great a stress Caiaphas had been under for the past months and how much he needed a celebration of this sort.

  Aaron was in the middle of telling a joke that everyone had heard a hundred times before when a slave entered the room and handed a note to Caiaphas. Aaron continued with his joke, but Eleazar watched his father read the note. At first a confused look crossed his face, but then he began to smile. After Aaron’s punchline brought bellows of laughter, Caiaphas raised his hands and said, “Your attention, please! There is news regarding the prophet from Galilee!” He spoke with sardonic seriousness. “This note I hold has come from the esteemed Pharisee Joseph, son of Isaac. He writes to inform me that the body of the crucified prophet, which Pilate allowed him to bury, is now missing!”

  Around the room there appeared confused looks and cautious smiles.

  “It appears we have a great crime on our hands!” Caiaphas said sarcastically. “A prophet’s body has been stolen. As the keepers of justice and peace in this city, perhaps Joseph feels it falls on us to solve the case. Who among us is worthy to lead such a task?” He paused, looking around the room, then said, “It can be none other than Simeon!” All turned and erupted in laughter when they turned to see Caiaphas’s younger brother, who had fallen asleep with his cheek resting in a pile of soft vegetables.

  “I will send word immediately to Joseph that we are putting our best man on it!” boomed Caiaphas.

  Again, roars of laughter filled the dining hall.

  CALEB

  It had been almost two months since the Passover. The Feast of Weeks, which came seven weeks later and celebrated first fruits and the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai, had come and gone, and Caleb’s visiting family had returned to Damascus. With the close of these two great festivals, life had resumed its normalcy. The shop continued to thrive, although Caleb had not seen his contact since before the crucifixions. Apparently, the need for information was not pressing. But the continued increase in business, together with his monthly stipend, surely meant that those he had been working for understood him to remain in their employ.

  In the days immediately after the crucifixions, Caleb had believed the only way forward would be to cut his ties with the high priest completely. The priests had used him for the benefit of Rome; he saw that clearly now. That would never happen again.

  But the more thought he gave to his situation, the more he considered another option. Perhaps remaining an informant could be advantageous. Not only could he control the information he would pass on, but he could pass on misinformation to advance his new cause. He might also be able to gather information for the cause through his connections with the high priest’s family. Ultimately, Caleb d
ecided that this approach would be the best use of his position. He would be a double agent, providing innocuous or even misleading information to the high priest and his family while ultimately working for Jewish liberation from Roman power.

  So it was that he found himself at the first meeting of like-minded freedom fighters since the execution of Joseph and Simeon, both founding members of this movement. Judah was still leading the group, and he had found a new meeting place. The attention he had drawn for the attack on the Roman soldiers led him to believe that Solomon the Pharisee’s scriptorium was no longer a safe place to meet, so now they had gathered in the basement of a small restaurant. The space was smaller than the scriptorium, but safety was a far greater concern than comfort. All present had taken precautions. Though there was no evidence of continued Roman surveillance, all feared they still lived under Roman suspicion.

  In light of all that had happened since their last meeting, they had much to discuss. They said prayers for the families of Joseph and Simeon and spent time in silent meditation to honor their lives and sacrifice. They took comfort in the hope that they would see them both again at the great resurrection. The entire group pledged to financially support Joseph’s and Simeon’s families in order to make up for the hardships their deaths had caused. The amount Caleb pledged was quite significant.

  Judah informed them that he had recruited several possible soldiers for the cause, and that he had marked a large number of potential recruits. Others indicated that they, too, had identified potential recruits. Though the crucifixions on the day of the Passover feast had not led to immediate violence, they had stirred up anger and a more intense desire for liberation in the hearts of many. Far more people now talked openly of throwing off the chains of Roman tyranny and striking at the Jewish leadership that was in bed with Roman power. Judah declared that public dissent was growing, and the time to capitalize on it was now. All potential members needed careful vetting, of course, but he was confident that many would be joining their cause soon. They would need to look for a bigger meeting place in the months to come, but this was a good problem to have.

  They also discussed a new movement that had emerged in Jerusalem over the past two months. Some of the closest followers of the prophet Jesus had begun to claim that he was no longer dead but had been resurrected. They were claiming that he had appeared to them, that they had touched him, and that they had even eaten with him. They took this resurrection as a sign that he was indeed God’s Messiah and that the long-awaited final age of God’s salvation had dawned.

  Few at the meeting thought this movement posed any sort of a threat, and for the most part they dismissed the group as a misguided sect of fanatics that would soon come to an end. The absurdity of their claims was evident in the simple fact that nothing had changed! Rome still occupied Israel, and everyone still felt its heavy oppression. People still suffered from illness, disease, and financial hardship. If the final age of God’s blessing had indeed come, it had fallen far short of all Jewish expectations! But surprisingly, the movement had won over some converts. Not many, to be sure, but it was nevertheless odd that the movement had convinced anyone at all of such an absurd notion.

  Judah also noted that this group had been causing trouble for the ranking priests by continually bringing up the crucifixion of Jesus and blaming these leaders for it. Though they were of little real consequence, their constant haranguing was no doubt an irritant to the temple authorities. Judah suggested that the distraction they caused could be a veil of sorts that protected their own resistance movement from the eyes of authority.

  The meeting ended with a discussion of plans for striking at Roman power to exact revenge for the executions of Joseph and Simeon. They even talked of attacking the high priest and his family, as most saw them as puppets of the Roman governor who allowed them to do his dirty work. They agreed to gather more information and further develop these ideas at their next meeting. Judah reminded them that an effective strike against Rome would take meticulous planning. No matter how angry they were, he demanded patience from them all.

  As the meeting broke up, Judah asked Caleb to stay behind, and he wondered what his cousin might want to discuss. Judah began by talking about potential recruits. He inquired about Caleb’s cousin Jacob in Damascus, explaining that it might be important to start developing support for the cause outside Judea. Caleb was uncertain about Jacob, though he said he would consider it. He agreed that expanding support outside the region seemed like a good idea. They also discussed a few workers in Caleb’s shop and a couple of other family members.

  Caleb thought the conversation was ending when, all of sudden, Judah asked, “So, when will you pass on all this information to the high priest?”

  He froze, looking at Judah in stunned silence. He knew he had to choose whether to lie or tell the truth. His instincts told him the truth was already known and that lying would do him no good.

  “How long have you known?” Caleb said, his voice thick with defeat and shame.

  “Soon after I visited you on the night the Romans arrested Joseph, Simeon, and Samuel. I suspected you immediately, given that you were one of only three new people at the previous meeting. Also, there was the sudden success of your business. When I came to you, I hoped it wasn’t true. Your denial gave me hope, but I couldn’t take you at your word alone. I had you followed. At first, your actions gave nothing away. You were observed once interacting with a man known to work for the high priest’s family, but that wasn’t enough to be certain.” Oddly, it gave Caleb some comfort to know he had been successful in avoiding detection even when being watched.

  Judah continued, “But I was convinced on the night I came to you seeking help for my family.”

  “When I asked about the prophet and his disciple,” Caleb said. He had feared the questions would arouse suspicion.

  “Yes. I didn’t believe that you were merely curious. You were collecting information, and that could only mean one thing. After that, I followed you myself to confirm. Do you remember that night?”

  “Yes, very well. I met with my contact and then with the brother of the high priest himself,” Caleb replied.

  “I saw both, and then I was certain,” Judah said, a sadness in his voice.

  “If you knew, why am I still alive?” asked Caleb matter-of-factly. When he decided to tell the truth, Caleb had resigned himself to the fact that this night was not going to end well for him. Judah had let him live to this point for some reason, but now he figured that reason had come to an end. He knew what Judah was capable of and how he handled betrayal.

  The question brought a look of pain to Judah’s face that said he knew exactly what Caleb was thinking. “I was angry when my suspicions were confirmed,” Judah said. “Angry enough to kill you.” Tears filled his eyes and began to slowly fall down his cheeks. “It shames me now to say it, because”—he paused—“because you are my family.” The tears were flowing freely now, and Judah took a moment to gather himself.

  “I followed you to the tavern that night with vengeance in my heart. I planned to kill you when you left. Forgive me, Cousin.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Caleb asked, tears now filling his eyes as well.

  “Because of what I heard in the tavern,” Judah replied.

  “You were there?” Caleb asked.

  Judah nodded. “I heard your request of the high priest.” He paused, sobbing. When he could speak again, he said, “I heard you save my life that night.” Another pause as Judah tried to compose himself. “You could have handed me to them. But instead you used the power you had to spare me.” With these words, Judah placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and then embraced him.

  “I only wish I could have saved Joseph and Simeon as well,” Caleb said.

  “I know,” whispered Judah.

  They separated and Caleb looked at Judah with confusion. His fear that his cousin meant to kill him had largely diminished, but he still didn’t know the purpose of this confrontation
or why Judah would allow Caleb to come to the night’s meeting knowing he was an informant.

  “If you knew, why did you allow me to come to this meeting?”

  “I am not really sure,” Judah replied. “But I felt like something changed in you when you saw Joseph and Simeon crucified. I saw true sorrow. I saw that you loved them, that you were feeling the pain not only of loss but the pain of knowing the role you played in their death. And do you remember what you said to me that day?”

  Tears returned to Caleb’s eyes. He nodded. “I told you I was committed to your cause.”

  “You promised me your life that day, and I believed you. I didn’t know what that meant for you and your relationship to the high priest, but I wanted to give you time to figure that out. The true reason I asked you to stay tonight was not just to confront you but to ask you where things now stand. Are you still an informant for the high priest, or are you now truly committed to our cause?”

  Caleb paused a moment. The answer to that question was complicated, and he hoped his cousin would understand. “Yes . . . and yes,” he finally replied. “I will remain an informant, and I will use that position to advance the cause.”

  The smile on Judah’s face took Caleb by surprise. “I was hoping that was the case. I knew you might end the relationship, but I hoped you would not. For the past two months, I have wanted to suggest that you not do so, that you use the relationship to aid our cause. But in the end, I thought it best you come to that decision on your own.”