“It’s like he’s not himself. Perhaps the adulation of the crowd has turned his head. Perhaps he is just tired. But he seems to have lost his better judgment. It’s like he’s looking for trouble.”
“And finding it,” the Sadducee drawled laconically.
“The other night a woman anointed his feet with spikenard, probably three hundred denarii worth.” There was almost a horror in his eyes. “She just poured it out over his feet. Think of what that kind of money could do for the poor.”
And for the keeper of the bag, thought Mordechai. But he made a sympathetic sound. “Shameful,” he said.
“It’s more than that,” Judas went on. “He’s making statements about Rome destroying the temple and about his kingdom coming in power. I fear that the Romans, hearing of that, might take action against our people.”
There was a long silence, and Judas’s eyes dropped as Mordechai watched him steadily. “So?” Mordechai finally asked.
“When I learned that the Sanhedrin was looking for someone who could help, I decided this might be the answer. Perhaps if he is kept in a cell until Passover is completed and the tension subsides a little . . .”
“It would have to be done when he is not with the people,” Mordechai suggested. “That’s our problem, to say nothing of merely locating him among the hundreds of thousands of pilgrims who have come for the festival. We can’t afford to have a riot.”
Judas’s dark eyes became shrewd and calculating. “I am always with him, and because I have responsibility for our needs, I can slip away at any time without arousing suspicion.”
Perfect! Mordechai felt like shouting it. So, what to offer the man? He sensed that this was not a time for haggling. The man was wrestling with his conscience, and it wouldn’t take much to scare him off.
Then he had his answer. One of the statutes in the Law of Moses specified what payment was required if a man’s ox went berserk and killed another man’s manservant or maidservant. It was about double the price Mordechai had thought he might first offer, but the irony of it was too delicious to pass by. He leaned forward. “This has to be done quietly and competently. Could we expect more than simply information? Would you be willing to actually lead us to him?”
Judas nodded but said nothing.
“Then you bring more to the table than we had hoped.”
Judas gave him a look of anticipation, but still he remained silent.
“What would you say to thirty pieces of silver?”
In spite of himself, Judas rocked back a little. Greed was evident in his eyes. “Thirty shekels?” he exclaimed.
“Yes.”
The calculations going on in Judas’s mind were obvious.
“It would be paid when you deliver the man to us,” Mordechai added.
Judas instantly shook his head. “No.”
Seeing his mistake immediately, Mordechai corrected himself. “You’re right. We can’t be handing you money in front of the others. Payment will be made when you bring us the information we need.”
After a long time, Judas’s eyes dropped. “Done,” he said quietly.
Mordechai stood. “Come, let us go to the house of the high priest. As head of the council, he must approve this agreement, but it is only a formality.” He suppressed a smile of satisfaction. “The deal, as you say, is done.”
III
Jerusalem, the Temple Mount 3 April, a.d. 33
“Are you sure, Peter?”
Peter nodded glumly. “Yes.”
Simeon blew out his breath in exasperation, then looked at his father. David was watching the senior apostle carefully, trying to read from his expression what was really going on. “Do you think this is wise?” David asked.
Peter held out one hand imploringly. “David, you have families. Passover is a time for families.”
“I know, but—”
Peter cut off his old friend and former fishing partner quickly. “What I’m trying to tell you is that Jesus has said he wants to have the Passover meal with just the Twelve.”
“Oh?” David said, taken aback by that.
“Wait a minute.” Ephraim interrupted. “Jesus is going to celebrate with just you?”
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
Simeon saw the oddity of it too. “What about his mother? What about Mary and Martha and Lazarus?”
“They’ll stay in Bethany and have their own celebration.” The burly fisherman shook his head at the surprise on their faces. “That’s what he said.”
“Where will you be?” Simeon asked.
Peter shrugged. “He says that will be determined later today.”
“Well,” Simeon said grudgingly, “at least no one will know of his whereabouts in advance.”
“But if trouble starts, Bethlehem is six miles away,” David pointed out. “It will take three or four hours to get word to us and have us get back.”
“There are twelve of us,” Peter noted. He touched the sword hanging from his belt. “We’re not totally helpless, you know.”
David sighed. “And these are the wishes of Jesus?”
Peter did not hesitate. “Exactly as he asked me to convey them to you. He wants you with your families. He wants to be alone with us.”
The three men of the family looked at each other, then over to where Jesus stood talking with a small crowd. The day had been a quiet one. There had been no further confrontation with the Pharisees, nor had they seen anyone from the Sanhedrin. Even the crowds were down, most likely preparing for the Passover meal, the most important meal of the year.
There was also the matter of cleansing the house from any trace of leaven, or yeast. The Feast of the Passover was combined with the Feast of Unleavened Bread. During the festival, the Jews were not allowed to eat any breadstuffs made with leaven. In addition, according to the book of Exodus, the feast required not only an abstention from leavened bread but also the purging of the house of any and all leaven. Since the old dough used as leavening spoiled quickly, this was the Lord’s way of suggesting symbolically that Israel purge itself of all that was corruptible. From that requirement had evolved an important ritual involving the whole family. The previous evening, the women of the house—in this case led by Esther, wife of Benjamin—would hide small bundles of the leavening dough throughout the house. This afternoon the hunt would begin. The children would race from room to room, cupboard to cupboard. Every bundle had to be accounted for and carried out of the house. If David and his sons were going to be part of that ritual, they would have to leave for Bethlehem soon.
“You will send for us if there is trouble?” Simeon pressed.
Peter grimaced. “Count on that,” he said.
David spoke for the rest of them. He put out his hand and gripped Peter’s, locking their hands over the other’s wrists. “Then, shalom, old friend,” he said. “You know we will come at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, and so does Jesus. He is much appreciative of your concern.”
“Then, good Sabbath, Peter.” It was not Saturday, but the festival days were considered holy days, or Sabbaths, as well. In a few hours, the Passover Sabbath would begin.
“Good Sabbath, David. Convey my best wishes to Deborah and the rest of the family.” And with that, he turned and walked back to join the others.
IV
Bethany
Peter was fretting. He knew he should just relax. If the Master was not concerned, then why should he be? Jesus knew what he wanted and when he wanted it. But Peter fretted nevertheless. It was midafternoon. At sundown the first day of Passover would begin. Not only did they need to find a place to meet, but all of the arrangements for a Passover supper had to be made. They had no lamb, no bitter herbs, no . . .
He looked up as Mary passed by the window above him. She and Martha were doing exactly what he should be doing. They were bustling about to complete their preparations for the evening. They had been at it all morning. It would be so easy if Jesus changed his mind and agreed to stay
with them. Martha would be pleased. Mary and Lazarus would be pleased. And Peter and his brethren would be greatly relieved. It would be so much more simple. He blew out his breath in frustration.
“Peter?”
He turned, half startled to see Jesus watching him steadily. “Yes, Master?”
“Take John. Go and prepare us the Passover that we may eat.”
He leaped to his feet. At last! “And where would you have us prepare this, Master?” He motioned to John, who was sitting across the courtyard with Andrew and James in the shade of an olive tree.
“Go into the city,” Jesus answered. “As you enter, you will meet a man carrying a pitcher of water.”
John had come over beside Peter. Peter glanced at him, trying hard not to show his dismay.
“When you find him,” Jesus went on, “follow him. When he enters into his house, then speak with the goodman of the house and tell him that the Master saith unto him: ‘My time is at hand. I will keep the Passover at your house. Where is the guest chamber where I may eat of the Passover with my disciples?’”
The two men stared at each other. Had Jesus already made arrangements? He spoke of this “goodman of the house” as if it were someone who knew him, yet he did not give his name. John started to ask for further clarification, but Peter tugged at his sleeve, motioning with his head for them to leave. “Yes, Master,” Peter mumbled, and turned and followed his younger companion out the gate.
The main road between Bethany and Jerusalem ran directly in front of Martha’s house. Once out into the street, Peter and John turned west, moving up the hill toward the city. Finally, after a minute, John blurted out: “I didn’t think it wise to ask the Master this, but how are we to find this man and follow him? There are hundreds of thousands of people in the city today.”
That had been Peter’s first thought too, but he didn’t admit it. He merely grinned, enjoying John’s discomfort—Peter had felt that same way more than once himself.
“So how are we supposed to find this man?” John repeated. “How in the world are we supposed to find who to follow?”
“Because he will have a pitcher of water,” Peter answered.
“Well,” John growled, “that should eliminate all but a thousand or two.”
“No,” Peter responded, “because he will have a pitcher of water. Jesus said to find a man carrying a pitcher of water.”
John stopped short.
Peter’s grin broadened. “If Jesus had said a woman, then we would have a problem. But how often do you see a man carrying water?”
John’s face showed his dawning comprehension. “Oh,” he said slowly.
Slapping him on the shoulder, Peter started off again. “You are wise beyond your years, old friend. So let us go and see what we can find.”
John watched his associate for several steps, then ran to catch up with him. “Does he do this just to teach us to have faith in him?”
Peter laughed. “You had too many words at the end of your sentence. He does this to teach us.”
V
Jerusalem, the Temple Mount
They were both still sweating from their journey. The road from Bethany to Jerusalem climbed the full height of the Mount of Olives, the highest elevation in the area, dropped down into the Kidron Valley, then climbed back up Mount Moriah to the Temple Mount. But they had not stopped there. They crossed the great Court of the Gentiles and went out the south gates. There they stopped to consider their alternatives.
There were fountains and public cisterns in several places around the city, but the Pool of Siloam, at the western end of Hezekiah’s Tunnel, was the most popular one. Should they start there or find something closer to the center of the city? Even as they debated, their eyes followed the streams of people passing them in both directions.
“There!” John grabbed Peter’s arm, pointing.
Peter just shook his head in amazement. He should have known. About a dozen paces away, a man was coming slowly up the hill. On his head, in the fashion of women, he carried a clay pot, cushioned on a folded cloth. The sides of the pot were dark from being dipped in water. He was obviously coming from the Pool of Siloam.
Peter glanced at John. “What did I tell you? He’s always teaching us.”
“Do you think this is the one?”
Peter looked around. “How many other men do you see carrying water?” he asked lazily. And with that, they began to follow the man, a few paces behind and out of his line of sight.
It soon became obvious that the man was headed toward the Upper City of Jerusalem. At first this surprised Peter a little. That’s where the elite neighborhoods of the city were. Would Jesus know anyone up there? But then he remembered that Jesus had mentioned an upper chamber. That should have alerted him. The poor were lucky to have a house with a room big enough to divide with a curtain. Upper chambers came only with some degree of wealth.
The farther they moved away from the temple complex, the more the crowds thinned. As they entered a long, narrow street, the man finally realized he was being followed. He kept glancing back at the two men, once giving them an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow. But Peter only smiled and continued to follow, staying far enough back so that the man wouldn’t feel threatened.
The house the man approached was not one of the great palatial homes that dotted Mount Zion—homes like those of the high priest and the other rulers of the Great Council—but it was impressive nevertheless. It was two stories high, made of finely cut stone, with a high wall to shut out the noise of the street. The two apostles stopped as the servant reached the heavy wooden door, raised a knocker, and rapped sharply three times, then turned his head to watch them warily.
In a moment, the door opened and the man went through, removing the pitcher before entering. The door shut again; there was a solid thud as the bar behind it was dropped into place again.
Peter looked at his friend and companion, who just shook his head. This was amazing. They walked to the gate, and Peter lifted the heavy knocker. Following the example of the water carrier, he rapped it three times. In a moment, a face appeared at a small opening. “Yes?” It was another man, with dark, beetle-black eyes.
“We would speak with the master of the house,” Peter said.
The eyes stared at them for a moment; then, to Peter’s surprise, there was a scraping sound as the bar on the other side was lifted. In a moment, the gate swung open. “Wait here, please,” the man said as they stepped inside the spacious courtyard. He was older than the servant they had followed. “I will fetch my master.”
They didn’t have long to wait. The man who came out of the house was not dressed for the street, but his light robes were made of expensive linen and were elegantly trimmed. “Yes?” he said, eyeing the two of them curiously. “May I be of assistance?”
Peter took a breath. For all his trust in the Master’s abilities, he still had a lingering wonderment about whether this was going to work. “We have come from Bethany,” he began. “We represent the Master.”
“The Master?” the man seemed surprised but not puzzled.
“Yes,” Peter said. “He asked that we give you the following message. ‘My time is at hand. I will keep the Passover at your house. Where is the guest chamber where I may eat of the Passover with my disciples?’” Peter smiled amiably. “Those are his words.”
It was hard to tell what was going on behind the man’s eyes, and that seemed a little odd to Peter. He had expected surprise, or even consternation. Two complete strangers appear at the gate, invoke only the word “Master,” and request to take over a part of the house? How could this have been anything but a startling announcement. But the man hesitated only a moment, then nodded, and to their complete surprise extended an arm in an invitation. “Come,” he said. “I will show you.”
They went through the front door—heavy wooden planks with gleaming brass hinges, a solid door opener, and a finely crafted mezuzah. The man immediately turned to the left and took them up a
narrow set of stone stairs. At the top was a short hallway with two doors. He opened one at the end and stepped inside, moving back so they could follow.
Peter stopped, and John nearly bumped into him. It was a large room with windows on two sides, the one with a spectacular view of the Temple Mount. There were stools, chairs, and padded benches around the walls. In one corner was a large basin with towels folded and neatly stacked on each side. A pitcher of water stood beside it. These items were for guests to wash themselves prior to a meal. A large U-shaped table stood in the center of the room. It was low, just three feet off the floor and surrounded by benches, which were wide, padded couches a foot lower than the table. These would provide a comfortable place for the guests to recline as they ate. Most surprising, the table was already set with copper plates and cups.
Peter’s eyes widened as he saw the loaf of matzah, or unleavened bread, wrapped in a white cloth. Beside it was a dish of celery stalks in water, and beside that, the small bowl of salt water. There was no roast lamb as yet, and the large silver pitcher from which the wine cups would be filled when the appropriate time came was still empty. These would be provided later, once the people arrived, but it was clear that not just any meal was going to be served here. This table was laid in preparation for the Passover.
Turning slowly, Peter gave their host a questioning glance.
“Will this be sufficient?” the man asked.
John could scarcely believe what he was seeing. “But this is ready for the . . .” He shook his head, turning back to look at the table. He counted quickly. Ten place settings.
The man sensed what he was doing. “How many will there be with the Master?”
Peter felt like laughing aloud—once again the Master had taught them an important lesson—but he maintained a grave demeanor. “Twelve others,” he said.
“Very well,” came the reply. “We will have all in readiness. When may we expect him?”
“Before sundown,” Peter answered.
The man bowed his head deferentially. “Until then, may peace be with you and with him.”
“We will convey your good wishes and also the fact that all is in readiness for him. Thank you.”
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