“Even the same that I said unto you in the beginning” came the answer.
Aaron stood there, seeming unsure of what that meant. “I have not been with you from the beginning,” he finally answered.
“I have many things to say and to judge of you,” Jesus responded, looking not just at Aaron but at Azariah and Caleb and the group of Pharisees that had accompanied them. “He that sent me is true; and I speak to the world those things which I have heard of him.”
“He’s speaking of his Father,” Livia said softly.
“I know,” Miriam said, “but Aaron and Azariah don’t know that.”
Aaron stood for a moment longer, then backed down again, disappearing from their view, looking more confused than ever.
Jesus lifted his head and spoke to the people. “When you have lifted up the Son of man, then shall you know that I am he.”
That got an instant reaction. “I am he” could mean only one thing. I am the Messiah. It was as though a shock wave went through the assembly.
“Then shall you know that I do nothing of myself. I speak these things only as my Father has taught me. And he that sent me is with me. The Father has not left me alone, for I do always those things that please him.”
“I thought his father was dead,” Yehuda whispered to Livia.
“He’s not speaking of his earthly father,” she answered. “He’s talking about his Heavenly Father.”
Azariah was fuming. This was ridiculous. He pulled at his side curls angrily, then started to say something, but another cry from the crowd cut him off. “It is the Messiah,” an older woman sang out. “Hallelujah! Praise God!”
“Speak on, Jesus,” someone else shouted. “We believe you. Don’t stop.”
“Blessed be the mother that carried you in her womb,” cried another female voice.
“Tell us what we should do, Rabboni,” a man immediately in front of Simeon and the others shouted. “Teach us.”
Jesus half turned, away from Azariah and toward the group that was calling out to him. “If you continue in my word, then are you my disciples indeed, and if you are my disciples, you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
“What?” Azariah roared. “What was that you said? We are Abraham’s seed and were never in bondage to any man.”
“Other than being captives to the Assyrians,” Yehuda remarked dryly. “And the Babylonians. Not to mention the Greeks, the Egyptians, and a few Romans here and there.”
Simeon smiled. There was a rich irony in Azariah’s protest. Just to the north of them loomed the dark shape of the Antonia Fortress, a constant reminder even here on the Temple Mount that Judea was a vassal state of the Roman Empire.
Jesus turned back to face Azariah, but he didn’t say anything.
The old Pharisee was so outraged he was almost sputtering. “How dare you say that you can make us free?”
The Master leaned forward slightly, speaking easily to the man confronting him, yet his voice carried clearly to all who watched. “You say that you are Abraham’s seed, and yet you seek to kill me because my word has no place in you. I speak that which I have seen with my Father, and you do that which you have seen with your father.”
Caleb moved up the last couple of steps to stand behind his leader. Seeing that, Peter and Andrew started to close in as well, but Jesus held up his hand, and they stopped.
“Abraham is our father!” Caleb screamed shrilly.
“If you were Abraham’s children,” Jesus said simply, “you would do the works of Abraham. But now you seek to kill me, a man who has told you the truth. This is not something that Abraham did.”
Both Pharisees rocked back, shocked by the direct accusation. Then Azariah turned to appeal to the crowd. “The man is mad. No one here is seeking to kill him.”
Jesus went on as if Azariah hadn’t spoken. “You do the deeds of your father.”
Azariah raised a fist and shook it in Jesus’ face. The implication was that if they were not Abraham’s seed, they were not legitimate children of Israel. “We are not born of fornication. We have one Father, even God.”
For the first time, there was a touch of coldness in Jesus’ voice. “If God were your Father, you would love me, for I came from God. Why will you not understand what I say? Even because you will not hear my word. Why? Because you are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father is what you do.”
Azariah fell back a step, his mouth working, his fingers clenching and unclenching. “The devil? You say our father is the devil?”
“O my!” Miriam breathed. “Now that’s about as straight as I have ever heard.”
But Jesus wasn’t through. “Because I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me. Which of you convicts me of sin? What proof have you? And if I say the truth, why do you not believe me? He that is of God is willing to hear God’s words. You refuse to hear them because you are not of God.”
By this point, Azariah was livid. He couldn’t get a word out. He just stood there, trembling with rage. Caleb whirled about and shouted at the crowd. “Say we not well that this man is a Samaritan and has a devil? What further evidence do you need?”
“I have not a devil,” Jesus cried out, his voice sharp and ringing clearly. “But I honor my Father, and you do dishonor me. Verily, verily, I say unto you, if a man keeps my saying, he shall never see death.”
In that moment, Azariah saw that what Caleb had just tried was the only hope left to them. This man was an outrage, a blasphemer, and an accuser. Nothing they could say would get through to him. Their only hope lay with the crowd.
He turned his back on Jesus, hands out, imploring. “Now we know for sure that this man has a devil. He says that if any man keeps his sayings, he will never see death. But Abraham is dead. Others of the prophets are dead. What does he mean, if a man keeps his saying, he shall never taste of death?”
The crowd had fallen silent at the last interchange. Many of the people there were like Yehuda. They didn’t like the arrogance and self-righteous superiority of the Pharisees, but most of the common people believed that the Pharisees were closer to God and that their teachings were more in harmony with his will than the aristocratic Sadducees, or even the Essenes, those extreme ascetics who had completely withdraw from the world and formed their own community on the shores of the Dead Sea. Jesus was not just criticizing the excesses of the Pharisees, which would have won him a lot of support. He had called them the children of Satan. He had just said as plainly as tongue could tell that they were not of God. Suddenly many in the crowd were confused and uncertain.
Azariah, as shrewd and quick as any man could be, sensed the change in mood and pressed in eagerly. He whirled back to face Jesus. “Are you saying that you are greater than our father Abraham, who is dead? Do you claim to be greater than Isaiah and Ezekiel and Jeremiah and the other prophets, all of whom are dead? What are you trying to make of yourself?” he finished incredulously.
Jesus looked thoughtful yet totally uninfluenced by the passions all around him. “Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day: and he saw it, and was glad.”
Azariah hooted in pure contempt. “You are not yet fifty years old, and you claim that you have seen Abraham?”
For one electric moment, the crowd seemed to hold its breath. Jesus waited, as calm as if he were seated on a hillside by himself, enjoying a summer’s day. Then, more gravely than he had said anything up to that point, he went on. “Verily, verily, I say unto you . . .” There was a long pause. Not a sound filled the courtyard. And then it came. “Before Abraham was, I am.”
It was as though a tidal wave had slammed into the crowd. Everyone rocked back, faces registering disbelief. When Moses had been called of God on Mount Sinai to deliver the children of Israel, he had asked the Lord, “When I come to the people and tell them that the God of their fathers has sent me to deliver them, they will ask me your name. What shall I tell them?”
And the voice of God answered Moses, saying,
“I AM THAT I AM. Thus thou shalt say unto the children of Israel. Say that I AM has sent you unto them.”
In Hebrew, that most sacred and holy of all names was written as Jehovah. Jehovah meant literally, I Am! I exist! And rightly so. Of all the false gods worshiped in a thousand places across time and in a thousand nations of the world, which could say, “I am. I do truly exist”?
What was so utterly shocking was that Jesus had just invoked that sacred name in such a way that it clearly had reference to himself. It was not some vague, obscure comment. Virtually everyone there understood exactly what he had just said, which was, in effect, “Before Abraham was, I was. I am the I AM. I am Jehovah.”
For a moment, Simeon, as shocked as everyone else, thought Azariah was going to have a stroke right there on the spot. But instead, Azariah’s face went as dark as death, and he gave one strangled cry. “He blasphemes. He makes himself as God. Stone him! Stone him!”
It was fortunate that they were in a paved court. People began scrambling, looking for a loose paving stone or anything else they might lay their hands on to throw at this man who had just committed sacrilege. In one instant, some members of the crowd joined together in an angry mob. Many others, who just minutes before had shouted their support of Jesus, now looked bewildered. Would a man of God blaspheme the name of God in such a manner?
Azariah ran to the northern edge of the stairs, waving frantically. Simeon saw the row of spears start to move. The old Pharisee was summoning the temple guards. Once again, Simeon’s first reaction was to spring to Jesus’ defense. “Stay here,” he cried to Miriam. But as he started shoving his way through the crowd, which was now in full chaos, he suddenly stopped. The top of the staircase was empty except for Azariah, who was shouting for the guards to hurry. Where Jesus had been standing just moments before, there was nothing. Peter and Andrew were gone. Only Azariah and Caleb were there. Caleb was still haranguing the crowd, chanting: “Stone him! Stone him! Stone him!” Azariah was waving for the guards to hurry.
As the line of spears reached the bottom of the steps below Azariah, he turned back pointing. “Seize him!” he shouted. Then he froze when he saw that no one was there. His enemy was gone. Once again Jesus had slipped away and disappeared into the crowd.
Chapter Notes
Having the woman whom Jesus cured of an infirmity be related to Aaron is obviously a fictional device of the author’s. However, it does serve to remind us that, while rarely given names, these were actual people, with families and friends and lives of their own.
John gives us the lengthy account of the events connected with the Feast of Tabernacles (John 7–8), and he specifies that they happened on the “the last day, that great day of the feast” (John 7:37). In the New Testament, the story of the woman taken in adultery (John 8:1–11) is inserted between the “living waters” account and the “light of the world” passages. However, most scholars agree that this story is a later insertion into John’s Gospel. It breaks the sequence of the festival account and is not found in the more ancient manuscripts (see Dummelow, p. 788; Guthrie, pp. 945–46). That is not to imply that the account of the woman is spurious. The account is very ancient and well attested to. It is its placement in John that is questioned. For this reason, this author treated the story of the woman taken in adultery in an earlier volume and not here.
Since the lighting of the lampstands immediately followed the “pouring out” ceremony, it is reasonable to assume that the two interchanges between Jesus and the Jewish leaders happened at roughly the same time.
The deeper significance of Jesus’ statement, “Before Abraham was, I am,” is lost in the English translation. It seems like a harmless, almost obscure, passing comment to modern readers. But it highly offended the Jews. John describes their reaction in this manner: “Then took they up stones to cast at him” (John 8:59). Blasphemy was a capital offense under the Mosaic Law, and the specified form of execution was stoning. The implication seems to be that Jesus’ comment was viewed as blasphemous. But why?
In the original Greek of the New Testament manuscripts, the phrase which is translated as “I am” in English is ego eimi. That is exactly the same phrase used in a Greek version of the Old Testament (the Septuagint) where God says that his name is “I AM” (Exodus 3:14).
Various commentators have noted the importance of what Jesus said. “It is important to observe the distinction between the two verbs [“Abraham was” and “I am”]. Abraham’s life was under the condition of time, and therefore had a temporal beginning. . . . Jesus’ life was from and to eternity. Hence the formula for absolute, timeless existence, I am (ego eimi)” (Vincent, 1:456).
“Christ seems here to declare Himself to be the Jehovah, or the I AM of the O.T., the eternal, self-existent Creator” (Dummelow, p. 790).
What Jesus was saying was essentially this: “I am from all eternity. I have existed before all ages. You consider in me only the person who speaks to you, and who has appeared to you within a particular time. But besides this human nature, which ye think ye know, there is in me a Divine and eternal nature. Both, united, subsist together in my person. Abraham knew how to distinguish them. He adored me as his God; and desired me as his Savior. He has seen me in my eternity, and he predicted my coming into the world” (Calmet, as cited in Clarke, 3:582).
Is it a surprise, then, that these Jews who refused to see Jesus for who he really was were greatly offended by the simple declaration, “I am”?
Chapter 13
You are not a better judge than God, or wiser than the Most High! Let many perish who are now living, rather than that the law of God which is set before them be disregarded.
—2 Esdras 7:19–20
I
Jerusalem, in the chambers of the Sanhedrin on the Temple Mount 14 October, a.d. 32
The Great Council normally did not seat themselves during festivals, but this was an emergency. Mordechai sat in his seat beside Caiaphas, silently fuming. He started to rise. “Where are they?” he burst out.
Several in the council turned their heads at the sound of his voice. Azariah, chief of the Pharisees and Mordechai’s chief antagonist on the council, gave him an oily smile. “Patience, my dear Mordechai. They’ll bring him.”
As if only waiting for that comment, there was a sudden scuffing of sandals on marble. Everyone turned. A column of eight men, two abreast, spears held at attention, had entered beneath the massive columns of the Royal Porches and were marching toward them.
Mordechai leaned forward, peering eagerly, then sat down heavily. “They don’t have him,” he grunted.
Beside him, Caiaphas uttered a low imprecation. Dismay and disgust were written clearly on Azariah’s face.
The men stopped behind the double circle of stone chairs, which marked the back edge of the council’s chambers. The captain came forward, removing his helmet, clearly fearful.
“Where is Jesus?” Caiaphas demanded. “Why have you not brought him?”
The man fumbled a little, turning his helmet nervously in his hands. “Excellency, we—” His eyes dropped. “Excellency, never did any man speak as this man does.”
Mordechai shot to his feet. He had expected some weak excuse about not being able to find Jesus again after he disappeared into the crowds. But this? This was unthinkable.
Before he could speak, though, Azariah spoke for him. “Are you also deceived?” he roared.
The man didn’t look up, just stared at the ground. Behind him, his men were also looking away.
“Rabbi,” the captain said to Azariah, “the people, there are many who accept him as the Messiah. If we had tried to take him, there would be—”
But Azariah was still enraged by the first comment. “Have any of the rulers of the Pharisees believed on this man?” He was seething. “Do you see any man here saying—” His voice became a singsong whine—“‘Never did any man speak as this man does.’ You fool! The people don’t know the Law. No wonder they are dazzled by this fraud.”
“I should like to speak.”
Mordechai turned, as did Caiaphas. Nicodemus, another of the leaders of the Pharisees, had stood. Mordechai frowned. He had long suspected that Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, both members of the council, were at least sympathizers of Jesus, if not outright disciples. However, if he was, Nicodemus was too timid to let his feelings be known. He knew that he risked his seat on the Sanhedrin.
“Say on,” Caiaphas said reluctantly, obviously guessing what might be coming.
“Does our law judge a man before it hears him? It seems as though this council is bent on convicting Jesus of crimes we are not sure he has committed. Let us hear him and learn what it is he does.”
Mordechai, still on his feet, looked at Caiaphas, who nodded for him to speak. “Are you a Galilean too, Nicodemus?”
“Of course not,” the Pharisee replied, unruffled.
“Then may I remind you of something?” Mordechai said coldly. “Search the Law. Search the writings. Search the prophets. And you will find that out of Galilee comes no prophet.”
Nicodemus looked as if he wanted to respond, but there was nothing to say. He had been in the temple when Mordechai used that same argument to tame the crowd. Even the most unlearned knew of Micah’s clear declaration. Nicodemus took his seat and looked down.
Mordechai shook his head, glaring at the other man. Then, knowing he wasn’t going to change Nicodemus’s mind, he looked up and down the faces of the rest of them. His voice went dangerously quiet. “We are facing the greatest crisis this council has faced in a hundred years. You saw what happened there tonight. The hallelujahs. The hosanna shout. The wild waving of the lulavs. That wasn’t just a moment of joyous ecstasy. The people weren’t just momentarily carried away.”
Suddenly his voice blasted out, startling several. “This man put himself forth as the Messiah! Azariah was able to convince a few of them that he’s a fraud and a blasphemer. But most of the people are like a stupid flock of sheep. We’re lucky the Romans weren’t there to see all of this.”
Fishers of Men Page 138
