Now Jesus’s words push Judas further away from the group. For Judas is also a thief. Taking advantage of his role as treasurer, he steals regularly from the disciples’ meager finances.4 Rather than allow Jesus to be anointed with precious perfumes by his admirers, Judas has insisted that those vials of perfume be sold and the profits placed in the group’s communal moneybag—all so that he might steal the money for his own use. Judas’s acts of thievery have remained a secret, and, like all thieves, he carries the private burden of his sin.5
Now Jesus is deepening Judas’s shame by reminding him that he is not merely a sinner but also unclean. To be morally unclean in Galilee is not just a spiritual state of mind; it is to enter a different class of people. Such a man becomes an outcast, fit only for backbreaking occupations such as tanning and mining, destined to be landless and poor for all his days.
Judas has seen these people. Many of them fill the crowds that follow Jesus, simply because they have nothing better to do with their time, and Jesus’s words offer them a measure of hope that their lives will somehow improve. They have no families, no farms, and no roof over their heads. Others turn to a life of crime, becoming brigands and highwaymen, banding together and living in caves. Their lives are hard, and they often die young.
This is not the life Judas Iscariot has planned for himself. If Jesus is the Christ, as Judas believes, then he is destined one day to overthrow the Roman occupation and rule Judea. Judas’s role as one of the twelve disciples will ensure him a most coveted and powerful role in the new government when that day comes.
Judas apparently believes in the teachings of Jesus, and he certainly basks in the Nazarene’s reflected celebrity. But his desire for material wealth overrides any spirituality. Judas puts his own needs above those of Jesus and the other disciples.
For a price, Judas Iscariot is capable of doing anything.
* * *
Frustrated by their inability to trap Jesus but also believing they have enough evidence to arrest him, the Pharisees and Sadducees return to Jerusalem to make their report. And while it may seem as if Jesus is unbothered by their attention, the truth is that the pressure is weighing on him enormously. Even before their visit, Jesus hoped to take refuge in a solitary place for a time of reflection and prayer. Now he leaves Galilee, taking the disciples with him. They walk north, into the kingdom ruled by Antipas’s brother Philip, toward the city of Caesarea Philippi. The people there are pagans who worship the god Pan, that deity with the hindquarters and horns of a goat and the torso and face of a man. No one there cares if Jesus says he is the Christ, nor will the authorities question him about Scripture. While Caesarea Philippi is just thirty-four miles north of Capernaum, Jesus might as well be in Rome.
Summer is approaching. The two-day journey follows a well-traveled Roman road on the east side of the Hulah Valley. Jesus and his disciples keep a sharp eye out for the bears and bandits that can do harm, but otherwise their trip is peaceful. Actually, this constitutes a vacation for Jesus and the disciples, and they aren’t too many miles up the road before Jesus feels refreshed enough to stop and relax in the sun.
“Who do the people say I am?” Jesus asks the disciples, perhaps inspired by the great temple at Omrit, dedicated to Caesar Augustus, a man who claimed to be god but who was, in the end, just as mortal as any other man.
“Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets,” comes the reply.
It is often this way when they travel: Jesus teaching on the go or prompting intellectual debate by throwing out a random question. Rarely does he confide in them.
“But what about you?” Jesus inquires. “Who do you say I am?”
Peter speaks up. “You are the Christ, the son of the living God.”
Jesus agrees. “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man but by my heavenly father,” he says as he praises the impulsive fisherman, using Peter’s former name. “Don’t tell anyone,” Jesus adds as a reminder that a public revelation will lead to his arrest by the Romans. They may be leaving the power of the Jewish authorities behind for a short while, but Caesarea Philippi is just as Roman as Rome itself.
But if the disciples think that Jesus has shared his deepest secret, they are wrong. “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and teachers of the law,” Jesus goes on to explain.
This doesn’t make sense to the disciples. If Jesus is the Christ, then he will one day rule the land. But how can he do so without the backing of the religious authorities?
And if that isn’t confusing enough, Jesus adds another statement, one that will be a source of argument down through the ages.
“He must be killed,” Jesus promises the disciples, speaking of himself as the Son of God, “and on the third day be raised to life.”
The disciples have no idea what this means.
Nor do they know that Jesus of Nazareth has less than a year to live.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JERUSALEM
OCTOBER, A.D. 29
DAY
Pontius Pilate sits tall as he rides to Jerusalem. His wife, Claudia, travels in a nearby carriage, as Pilate and his escorts lead the caravan through unfriendly terrain. Pilate has three thousand men at his disposal. They are not actual Roman soldiers but the same mix of Arab, Samarian, and Syrian forces who once defended Herod the Great.
Pilate’s military caravan has set out from the seaside fortress of Caesarea. The Roman governor makes the trip to Jerusalem three times a year for the Jewish festivals.1 The sixty-mile journey takes them south along the Mediterranean, on a paved Roman road. After an overnight stop, the route turns inward, onto a dirt road across the Plain of Sharon and on up through the mountains to Jerusalem.
Pilate intends to lend a dominant Roman presence to the Feast of Tabernacles,2 one of three great celebrations on the Jewish religious calendar. Much like Passover, this holiday involves pilgrims by the hundreds of thousands traveling to Jerusalem to celebrate. The Jews commemorate forty years of wandering in the desert and enjoy a feast to celebrate the completion of the bountiful harvest. Pilate has little patience for Jewish ways. Nor does he think the Jews are loyal to Rome. The governor walks a fine line during these festivals: if the Jews revolt—which they are wont to do when they gather in such large numbers—he will take the blame, but if he cracks down too hard, he could be recalled to Rome for disobeying Tiberius’s order that these people be treated as a “sacred trust.”
Thus Pilate endures the festival weeks. He and Claudia lodge themselves in the opulence of Herod the Great’s palace and venture out only when absolutely necessary.
Pontius Pilate has been prefect of Judea for three years. His job as governor should be as simple as mediating local disputes and keeping the peace, but in fact the role of the occupier is always fraught with peril. The Jewish philosopher Philo will one day write that Pilate is “a man of inflexible, stubborn and cruel disposition,” and yet the Jews have already managed to outsmart him and damage his career. On the occasion that Pilate ordered Roman standards to adorn the Temple, not only did the residents of Jerusalem succeed in having them removed, but they also wrote a letter to Emperor Tiberius detailing Pilate’s indiscretion.
Tiberius was furious. As the historian Philo will report, “Immediately, without even waiting for the next day, he wrote to Pilate, reproaching and rebuking him a thousand times for his new-fangled audacity.”
This year, tensions are running even higher, and the finger of blame can be pointed only at Pilate. He had the ingenious idea of building a new aqueduct to bring water to Jerusalem, but he faltered in this act of goodwill by forcing the Temple treasury to pay for it. The Jewish people were outraged about this use of “sacred funds,” and during one recent festival, a small army of Jews rose up to demand that Pilate stop the aqueduct’s construction. They cursed Pilate when he appeared in the streets of Jerusalem, taking courage from the size of
the crowd, thinking that their words would be rendered anonymous.
But Pilate anticipated the protest and disguised hundreds of his soldiers in the peasant robes of Jewish pilgrims, with orders that they conceal a dagger or club beneath the folds of their robes. When the crowd marched on the palace to jeer more violently at Pilate, these men surrounded the mob and attacked them, beating and stabbing the unarmed pilgrims. “There were a great number of them slain by this means,” the historian Josephus would later write, “and others of them ran away wounded. An end was put to this sedition.”
To the Jewish people, Pilate is a villain. They think him “spiteful and angry” and speak of “his venality, his violence, his thefts, his assaults, his abusive behavior, his frequent executions of untried prisoners, and his endless savage ferocity.”3
Yet one of their own is just as guilty.
* * *
Pontius Pilate cannot rule the Jewish people without the help of Joseph Caiaphas, the high priest and leader of the Jewish judicial court known as the Sanhedrin.
Caiaphas is a master politician and knows that the emperor Tiberius not only believes it important to uphold the Jewish traditions but is also keeping the hot-tempered Pilate on a very short leash. Pilate may be in charge of Judea, but it is Caiaphas who oversees the day-to-day running of Jerusalem, disguising his own cruel agenda in religiosity and piety. Few people in Jerusalem realize that the same man who leads the rite for the atonement of sins, appearing in the Temple courts on Passover and Yom Kippur wearing the most dazzling ceremonial robes,4 is a dear friend of Rome and of the decadent emperor Tiberius.
The glamour of his position is most spectacularly evident during the annual Yom Kippur atonement ceremony, when Caiaphas enters alone a Temple sanctuary known as the Holy of Holies, where it is believed that God dwells. To Jewish believers, this places him closer to God than any mortal man. He then walks back out to stand before the believers who pack the Temple courts. A goat is placed on either side of Caiaphas. As part of the ritual atonement, this high priest must decide which goat will go free and which will be sacrificed for the sins of the Jewish people.
This same man who stands in the presence of God and sees that sins are forgiven is also the high priest who does not object when Pilate loots the Temple funds. Caiaphas also says nothing when Jews are massacred in the streets of the Holy City. He doesn’t complain when Pilate forces him to return those jewel-encrusted ceremonial robes at the end of each festival. The Romans prefer to keep the expensive garments in their custody as a reminder of their power, returning them seven days prior to each festival so that they can be purified.
Prior to Caiaphas, high priests were puppets of Rome, easily replaced for acts of insubordination. But Caiaphas, a member of the Sadducee sect, has developed a simple and brilliant technique to remain in power: stay out of Rome’s business.
Rome, in turn, usually stays out of the Temple’s business.
The former helps Pilate keep his job. The latter increases Caiaphas’s power.
Both men know this and are comfortable with the arrangement. So while Caiaphas’s four predecessors served just one year as high priest before being deposed, Caiaphas has now been in office for a dozen years—and shows no sign of going anywhere soon. And every year he is in power, the connection between Rome and the Temple grows stronger, even as the chasm between the high priest and the working-class Jews grows wider.
It helps that Pilate and Caiaphas are more alike than they are different. Pilate was born into the wealthy equestrian class of Romans,5 and Caiaphas was born into a centuries-long lineage of wealthy Temple priests. Both men are middle-aged and married. Each likely enjoys a glass of imported wine at the end of the day. When Pilate is in Jerusalem, the two men live just a few hundred yards apart, in the posh Upper City, in palaces staffed by male and female slaves. And they consider themselves devout men, though they worship far different deities.
The last thing Pilate or Caiaphas needs is a messianic figure to upset this careful balance of power—which is precisely why Caiaphas and the religious authorities plan to arrest Jesus the minute he sets foot inside the Holy City.
The Pharisees have done their due diligence and have reported back a litany of transgressions against religious law by the Nazarene. The plot to kill Jesus is about to unfold.
* * *
But Jesus has other plans.
He has returned from his brief time in Caesarea Philippi and now remains in Galilee, even as the disciples travel to Jerusalem for the festival. The disciples are so eager for Jesus to come with them and publicly announce that he is the Christ that they try to give him a piece of advice, something they’ve never done before.
“Go to Jerusalem,” they beg before setting out. “No one who wants to become a public figure acts in secret. Since you are doing these things, show yourself to the world.”6
“The right time for me has not yet come,” Jesus answers. “For you any time is right. The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify that what it does is evil. You go to the feast. I am not going, because for me the right time has not yet come.”
The religious leaders in Jerusalem remember the disciples’ faces from their mission to Galilee in the spring. So when they see the disciples enter the city without Jesus, they are immediately frustrated. Once again, Jesus appears to be getting the best of them.
“Where is that man?” the Pharisees ask one another, studying faces in the crowds filling the Temple courts. “Where is that man?”
Rumors about Jesus swirl as the feast begins. The people in the villages and towns surrounding Jerusalem know little about him, other than from rumor. Many believe the innuendo is being spread by the religious authorities in an attempt to portray Jesus as a demon and a charlatan. Pilgrims from Galilee, however, rave about Jesus’s goodness. Others, meanwhile, gossip that Jesus is now being hunted.
For days, speculation spreads through the city. No one has an answer about where Jesus is, not even his own disciples.
The Feast of the Tabernacles is eight days long, and it is halfway through the celebration that Jesus slips quietly into the Temple courts. He has traveled in secret to Jerusalem. Jesus fearlessly begins to teach. There has been an aura of sadness about him in recent months, a greater need to be alone. He speaks more and more in parables when he teaches, knowing that such stories are far more memorable and provide more context than merely quoting Scripture. Above all, he seems to be coming to terms with the imminent death of which he told his disciples.
But that time has not yet come, so now, within earshot of the sanctuary, easily heard and seen by any passing Pharisee or Sadducee, Jesus boldly preaches about truth and justice. Within moments, a circle of pilgrims stands before him, listening in amazement as Jesus shares his insights about God.
“Isn’t this the man they are trying to kill?” ask some in the crowd.
“Have the authorities really concluded that he is the Christ?” ask others.
This idea is met with skepticism. For it is hard to imagine that the Christ would come from a backwater province such as Galilee. Instead, he would be from Bethlehem, the city of David, as told by the prophets. “We know where this one is from.”
“Yes, you know me,” Jesus answers, hearing their words. “And you know where I am from. I am not here on my own, but he who sent me is true. You do not know him, but I know him, because I am from him and he sent me.”
Jesus is on the verge of admitting that he is the Christ. The Pharisees and high priests send the Temple guards to arrest him for blasphemy. But the guards return empty-handed and then stand before Caiaphas and the Pharisees, unable to explain their failure to do so. Standing among these chief priests is Nicodemus, the Pharisee from Galilee who questioned Jesus about being born again. “Why didn’t you bring him in?” the high priests demand to know.
“No one ever spoke the way this man does,” a guard explains.
“You mean he has deceived you also?” demand the Pharisees. Thei
r rage is so profound that they forget their place, for only the high priests are allowed to ask questions within the Temple.
Nicodemus steps forward. “Does our law condemn anyone without first hearing him to find out what he is doing?”
The other religious leaders quickly turn on Nicodemus, insulting him even though he is one of their own.
“You are from Galilee?” they say with scorn. “A prophet does not come out of Galilee.”
* * *
Jesus continues to teach in the Temple courts for the rest of the festival. “I am the light of the world,” he tells the crowds. “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”
“I am going away,” he adds. “Where I go you cannot come.” And soon after, he disappears. As pilgrims travel back to their homes—whether they be in Egypt, Syria, Galilee, Greece, Gaul, or Rome—they talk about Jesus. Many now believe that Jesus is indeed the Christ. Others are not sure, but they heard his pronouncements that he was sent by God and desperately want to put their faith in the Nazarene.
Whether or not they believe Jesus is the Christ, Jews everywhere long for the coming of a messiah. When that moment arrives, Rome will be defeated and their lives will be free of taxation and want. No longer will soldiers loyal to Rome be allowed to corral Jews like cattle, then stab and beat them until the gutters of their Holy City are choked with Jewish blood, as Pilate so infamously arranged. For these people, this hope is like a lifeline, giving them courage in the face of Rome’s unrelenting cruelty.
Only the Christ can lead them. The prophets have promised that such a man will come. And to be sure, Jesus has made several allusions to being the Jewish Messiah. He talks about his father and that he came from above. But he hasn’t come out and publicly said the words “I am the Christ.”
Jesus has appeared in the Temple courts many times, defying the priests and Pharisees whenever given the chance. He is powerful and confident, as a leader should be. If Jesus is the Messiah who will come to save the Jewish people, then let him reveal himself. Some are growing impatient.
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