III
Jerusalem, House of Mordechai ben Uzziel
Mordechai looked up as Levi ushered Menachem of Bethphage into the garden area of his spacious courtyard. The older man set the scroll he had been reading to one side and motioned his assistant forward. “I thought you would be resting on this Sabbath afternoon.”
“I’ve been worried,” Menachem said, dropping onto a marble seat across from Mordechai.
Mordechai grunted. “Good. I pay you to worry. What is it?”
“I was seeing to the remuneration of those who helped us at the trial and at the Praetorium and I—”
“Why, Menachem,” Mordechai said, feigning horror. “On the Sabbath day? How could you?”
Menachem grinned. “Actually, I thought of stopping by Azariah’s house just to see if he would go into an apoplectic fit.” Then, instantly, he sobered. “One of those I saw today was the man who testified for us about Jesus destroying the temple.”
One eyebrow raised questioningly. “Don’t tell me he wants to change his story now.”
“Oh, no. But he said something that troubled me. He said that what Jesus was talking about was not the Temple of Herod but the temple of his body.”
Leaning forward, his mouth pulling down into a frown, Mordechai had gone very quiet. “Say that again.”
“This man claims that his disciples knew that Jesus wasn’t talking about the actual temple. One of them told this man when he questioned him about it that of late Jesus had been speaking a lot about his imminent death. According to this man, Jesus said that even if they destroyed his body, he would rise again in three days. That’s what Jesus meant. It was the temple of his body.”
“Ridiculous,” Mordechai said.
“You know that, and I know that,” Menachem said, picking his way carefully, “but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”
“It’s twaddle,” Mordechai exploded. “Don’t give it another thought.” His irritation was rising. He expected better than this from someone he had handpicked to eventually replace him. “Surely you don’t give any credence to the idea that Jesus can raise himself from the dead?”
Menachem flushed a little. “Of course not, sire.” His eyes darkened. “But suppose, just suppose, that his disciples decided to convince the people that it was true.”
“Let them talk until they are blue in the face. No one will listen to that kind of drivel.”
“I’m not thinking about them just talking, sire.”
Mordechai’s eyes narrowed. “Then what are you saying?”
“The garden where they took the body—do you know of it?”
“I’ve not been there, but, yes, I know where it is. Joseph of Arimathea has a house nearby.”
“It is a very private place, Master. It’s outside the walls of the city, off away from any roadway.” He drew in a breath, not sure if he should say what he was thinking.
“What?” Mordechai snapped.
“Suppose the disciples were to remove the body.”
Mordechai sat back very slowly, staring at his associate.
“It would be easy enough. Sometime during the night they roll the stone back, take the body and dispose of it, then . . .”
He didn’t have to finish it. Mordechai was far too shrewd not to see immediately what Menachem was saying. He shot to his feet. “Levi!”
His chief servant instantly appeared at the door of the house. “Yes, sire?”
“Get my sandals. Menachem and I are going out.”
IV
Jerusalem, Upper City, the Praetorium
“I don’t give a fig whether the governor wants to be disturbed or not, Marcus. We have to see him immediately. This is a matter of the utmost urgency.”
Marcus winced and half closed his eyes. “You don’t have to shout, Mordechai.” He began to rub at his eyes. They were bloodshot and had heavy dark circles beneath them.
Taking his measure, Mordechai guessed that the tribune had been drinking heavily. That would explain the rumpled uniform, the stubble on his jaw, the hair that badly needed a comb run through it. It made Mordechai all the more disgusted. “We have to see him, Marcus. We could have a serious problem on our hands.” Then, speaking slowly and evenly, he outlined Menachem’s theory.
Bleary-eyed or not, Marcus was no fool. He saw the implications of the situation as quickly as Mordechai had. “Wait here,” he said, and strode out.
Three minutes later Pilate came into the room, his face dark and stormy.
“Excellency,” Mordechai said, his voice respectful, almost soothing. “Thank you for taking—”
“What’s this about Jesus being raised from the dead?”
“He’s not been raised from the dead, Excellency. However, we fear that his disciples may try to steal the body and then claim that he was.”
“Did he really say that he would rise again in three days?”
“Evidently, sire,” Mordechai replied. He didn’t like the look he saw in Pilate’s eyes. It was genuine fear. “If that rumor gets started among the people, it could be—”
Pilate cut him off shortly again by spinning around to Marcus. “Fortunata is not to hear a word of this, Marcus. Not a word.”
“Of course not, sire.”
“She’s already begging me to take her back to Caesarea. This thing with Jesus has rattled her nerves.”
“Yes, sire. I’ll see to it that she does not hear any of this.” Marcus was thinking he wasn’t about to tell Diana either.
“So what do we do?” Pilate said, turning back to Mordechai.
Mordechai was incredulous. He had to ask? “He said it would happen in three days, Excellency. Perhaps you could put a guard at the tomb until that time has passed.”
Pilate seemed relieved with that suggestion. “Yes, that would do it.” He snapped his fingers. “Marcus, see to it immediately.”
“Yes, sire.” He turned and left the room.
Pilate was staring at the floor, his fingers working nervously. Finally, he looked up, seeming surprised to see the two Jews still standing there. “Well,” he barked, “you have your guard.”
“Yes, Excellency. Thank you.” Mordechai started to back away, bowing as he did so. “Thank you for granting us audience.”
The governor stared at him balefully. “On your way. You have your watch. Make it as sure as you can.” And with that, he flung his toga over one arm and stalked out of the room.
As they left the palace and crossed the courtyard of the Praetorium, Mordechai looked at Menachem. “I want you to make sure the guards really get there.”
“Of course.”
“And take some men with you and seal the tomb. Do you understand me? Guards or no guards, I want that tomb sealed up tight.”
“Yes, sire,” Menachem said firmly. “I’ll see to it right away.”
V
Jerusalem, Upper City, House of Jephunah ben Asa
Though the afternoon had become muggy and warm, in the house of Jephunah in the Upper City of Jerusalem the door to the courtyard and all the outer doors of the house were shut and barred. Servants guarded the outer gate and the main entrance to the house. On the first level, the windows were left open—no one was down there to be seen from the outside—but in the upper room, the same upper chambers where Jesus and the Twelve had observed the Passover, the shutters were pulled and latched. That left the room in near darkness, even though outside the daylight still lingered. Oil lamps hung on chains from the ceiling, giving light, but their smoke left the air even more thick and heavy than it was outside.
This near paranoia said much about the mental and emotional state of the disciples who gathered together that evening. Once Jesus had been arrested by the Sanhedrin and then passed to the Romans, there was little evidence that anyone was concerned about his followers. The Sanhedrin apparently assumed that these crude and unlearned Galileans had scattered like chicks when the mother hen was taken by the fox. Nor was there any real threat from the Praetorium
. Rome paid the disciples of the rebel king no more mind than if they had been children watching the mighty legions marching through their village.
But Peter, James, and John, who had definitely taken over the reins of leadership, were not taking any chances. The Romans had a reputation for cutting a broad swath when they felt a need to eliminate any threat to their security. And no one dared to predict what the Sanhedrin might do. Though no one openly expressed it, there was still some concern that having the daughter of one of the most powerful men on the council as part of their group might trigger a reprisal on anyone who dared to shelter her.
Simeon looked around the room as Peter gave out various assignments for what had to be purchased. Simeon was surprised that more people were not present. The room could easily hold a hundred or more, but there were only a little more than half that. But then, as he thought about it, it really wasn’t that surprising. The events of the previous day had been like the explosive eruption of a nearby volcano, which had sent everyone scurrying for safety. It would be days—or perhaps weeks or months—before the numbing effects of the tragedy wore off.
He let his eyes move across the faces. No children were present, with the exception of one or two like Leah, who were young adults but still single; and he saw that quite a few of the wives were not there. The men had felt compelled to come, but they didn’t want to put their families at risk too.
There, at the head of the room, were the apostles—now just eleven of them—with all but two or three of their wives. To the left was most of what Simeon thought of as “the Bethany contingent,” that is, the ones who had been with Jesus in Bethany—Martha, Mary, and Lazarus; Mary Magdalene; Joanna, the wife of Chuza, and a close friend of Mary’s; Luke the Physician with his wife and a son about Leah’s age.
Then there were the others from Capernaum. Jairus, ruler of the synagogue in Capernaum, was there alone. Zebedee, father of James and John, was there with his wife, Salome, but their younger children had been left with relatives. There were three or four other Galileans whose names Simeon didn’t know.
From Jerusalem, in addition to Jephunah and his wife and daughter, were Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, sitting together. John Mark and his mother, who were close friends of Peter and who owned a home not too far from where they were, talked quietly together. Again, half a dozen others were unknown to Simeon.
What was most surprising to him was to see the four young men at the far end of the room. These were the four younger brothers of Jesus—James, Joseph, Simon, and Yehuda. Their mother, still in a state of complete collapse, was in another room, cared for by her two daughters. What surprised Simeon was that the last he had heard, which was several months ago, the siblings were still struggling to come to terms with the idea that their elder brother was the promised Messiah. Simeon was glad to see them there. They would be a great comfort to their mother.
He turned to watch Aaron for a moment, wondering what was going on in his mind. He had to suppress a smile of gratitude as his eyes shifted slightly to his aunt. Hava had startled them all earlier that afternoon, but it had thrilled him to see her stand her ground, especially in defense of Jesus. Livia, to his relief, was much better now. She didn’t say much, but she was no longer withdrawn and distant. She and Miriam even smiled occasionally as they talked.
Just as Simeon started an examination of the rest of his family, a voice brought him back to the present. “Any questions?”
Peter stood at the end of the room, his eyes sweeping over the assembly.
Mary, sister of Martha, raised a tentative hand. She still showed the ravages of grief, as did most of the others in the room. Peter nodded at her, his eyes softening. “Yes, Mary?”
“Once we have made our purchases, should we come back here or go straight to the tomb?” Then before Peter could answer, she added, “It’s going to be very dark soon. We’ll need torches to find our way.”
Peter shook his head. “Not to the tomb. Not tonight. We’re all exhausted, and you’re right—it is growing dark quickly.”
Simeon nodded, along with many others. That was wise. It would be much better in the morning.
Mary sank back into her chair, relieved and yet clearly disappointed, too. Anna moved over and slid an arm around her.
Peter went on quietly. “Bring everything back here. James has made sleeping arrangements for all of us here and nearby. We’ll meet back here first thing in the morning to finish what needs to be done.”
John came in now. “Probably all of us should not go to the tomb. We don’t want the Romans thinking they’re under attack.”
“I would suggest that only some of the women go,” Andrew spoke up. “They are the ones we need to prepare the body anyway, and if the Sanhedrin is watching the tomb, the women shouldn’t pose any threat to them.”
Peter nodded, then looked around. When there were no further questions, he went on. “All right then. Once the burial preparations are completed, we’ll return here for a last meal together.” His shoulders lifted and fell. “And then, Passover or not, my family and I are going to start for home. We are done with Jerusalem.”
“Amen,” someone behind Simeon said softly.
Chapter Notes
The Gospel accounts do not specifically say that meetings held by the disciples after the death and resurrection of Jesus occurred in the same house where the Last Supper took place. However, many assume so because Mark tells us that the Passover meal was celebrated by Jesus in a “large upper room” (Mark 14:15), and in Acts, not long after the resurrection, the disciples again met in “an upper room” (Acts 1:13).
Chapter 37
He is not here, but is risen.
—Luke 24:6
I
Jerusalem, House of Mordechai ben Uzziel 6 April, a.d. 33
“Sire! Wake up.” Levi hesitated, then bent over and shook his master’s shoulder.
Mordechai gave a moan, then half turned.
“Wake up, Master!”
Squinting against the light of the small hand lamp that Levi carried, Mordechai raised up on one elbow. “Levi?”
“Yes, sire. I’m sorry, but there’s a messenger here from Caiaphas.”
Turning his head enough to see that it was pitch black outside the window, Mordechai muttered something under his breath. “What time is it?”
“Well into the third watch, sire. Maybe three hours until dawn.”
He sat up. “Caiaphas?”
“Yes, sire. The messenger says it is of the utmost urgency.”
II
Mordechai was still muttering to himself as he banged the heavy door knocker loudly. Spineless old fool. What had got his heart fluttering at this hour of the night? Had someone peeped into his window? Had he heard something creak in the house?
When the servant opened the door, Mordechai strode past him without so much as a word. “They are in the council chambers, sire,” the man called after him.
Mordechai stopped. “They?”
“Yes, sire. Annas is here, and Azariah.”
Wary, Mordechai took the stairs two at a time, dropping from the upper level, past the level where the offices of the high priest were, down to the lower level. He stopped dead when he saw two Roman legionnaires standing behind Annas and Caiaphas. Two more legionnaires were just outside the door that opened out onto the courtyard. Azariah was talking earnestly to them.
As he moved forward again, Mordechai saw that Caiaphas was pale and trembling. Annas’s mouth was pinched and his visage grim, as if he had just looked death in the face.
On seeing Mordechai coming, Caiaphas turned his head. “Azariah. He’s here.”
Annas motioned to the two soldiers. “We need to be alone.”
The older of the two men nodded brusquely, and they went out to join their companions. Azariah pulled the door closed behind him as he came in.
“What is going on?” Mordechai demanded. “What are they doing here?”
“You’d better sit down,” Annas s
aid.
“I don’t want to sit down,” Mordechai retorted. “What’s happened?”
It was Azariah who answered. “We have a problem.”
“What?”
“The body is gone!”
Mordechai fell back a step. “What?”
“That’s right,” Annas said. “It’s been stolen.”
The rage inside him exploded. “How could that be? Pilate put a guard on it.” He stopped, staring at the men outside. “Are they—?”
Azariah nodded. “I think you’d better hear this for yourself.” Without waiting for permission, he went to the door and pushed it open a foot or two. “Soldier, come back in here.”
The older of the two who had been inside before stepped back into the room. One look at his face and Mordechai could tell he was badly shaken.
Mordechai moved over and dropped into a chair. The others did the same, and the soldier came and stood before them.
“All right, tell him what you told us.”
The man took a deep breath, then, not meeting Mordechai’s eyes, began to talk rapidly. “Excellency, as you may know, the governor asked that a guard be placed at the tomb of one of the prisoners who was executed on Friday, the one they called the King of the Jews.”
“I know that,” Mordechai said shortly. “I’m the one who made the request of the procurator. Go on.”
“Well, we were the fourth set of guards to be stationed there, sire. We came on at the beginning of the third watch. Everything was fine. The others had not had any problems. They hadn’t seen anyone, in fact.”
“All right, all right,” Annas snapped. “We don’t need all of that.”
The man swallowed nervously but nodded. “We had been on duty about an hour or so, I’d say. Everything was quiet, and—”
“Were you sleeping?” Mordechai cut in sharply.
The man’s face flushed. “The penalty for sleeping on guard duty is very severe, sire.”
Fishers of Men Page 176
