3 A.D. by Billie Matejka - HTML preview

Chapter 25

Abner talked with his landlady. A friend of hers had a small apartment for rent. I was delighted to have it.

Passover was very soon and Jerusalem would be filled with visitors.

The apartment held a large room and a smaller one for sleeping. It also had an enormous courtyard, where we spent happy hours.

Fortunately, the house wasn"t too crowded with furniture, so when I had visitors, we made room for everyone.

As soon as I was settled, Abner spread the word. Jesus heard and was there the next day, with a few of His disciples. As I met each one, I saw in them the embodiment of the lessons Jesus taught.

There was Peter, Jesus" friend, a fisherman from the Sea of Galilee. He had chosen this big, burly man to become one of His followers. When he walked in my door, I knew immediately who he was. “You are definitely Peter,” I greeted him.

He literally picked me up, grinning all the time. “What a little thing you are, to have such a Son.” Peter"s muscles barely bulged as he kissed me on the forehead, then placed me quite gently back onto the floor, his eyes grinning down at me.

Dark brown hair thickly covered his scalp, with a mustache and beard even darker, almost black in color. But the open mouthed grin between those two bushy splotches of hair was wider than the earth.

What a delightful man, I thought, and invited. “You must be thirsty. Help yourself to a goblet of wine.”

“First, I must introduce my brother.” He grabbed a man who could almost have been his twin, except he was not quite as tall and had fiery, red hair. His mustache bristled as though he was about to explode with anger...and yet, Jesus told me he was the mildest of men.

“His name is Andrew, but he"s not pretty like me.” And Peter promptly threw back his head and roared.

“You must forgive my big brother,” Andrew said, his blue eyes crinkling in good humor. “He simply will not learn how to behave himself, in spite of all my training.” The sweetest smile engulfed his face, making me feel warm and safe.

“Please have cakes and wine.”

The sons of Zebedee, James and John, followed. They were fishermen, as well. Their skin, though parched, was smooth and young. They hesitantly moved into the door. They looked as though they felt much more at home on the sea than in a house.

I picked up a plate of cakes, offering it to them. They hesitantly took one. “Please get something to eat and drink.” I welcomed.

These were just the first four of Jesus" disciples I met. Soon, all twelve men made this house their haven from the rigors of the learning they were undergoing, as well as their travels.

Later, I met Mary Magdalene and the mothers of some of the disciples who followed Jesus. Most had been cured of horrible diseases by Jesus and felt they could not do enough to repay Him.

They purchased food, cooked it, then washed clothing as often as possible. They used balm to heal blisters on feet, cut hair when it got too shaggy, placed bandages on cuts when necessary. They did what they could to make these men comfortable as they traveled from place to place, never asking anything for themselves.

They were also an influence in helping women followers to understand what Jesus was attempting to tell them...that they were equal in God"s sight to men. That men should love their wives as themselves, not use them as slaves. They also taught women they should love and care for their husbands, to have a truly happy life.

Many times they helped these same women with their children in various ways...bandaging wounds, cleansing a dirty face, giving food when there was a crowd and little food available.

Primarily, they taught women how to live a better, more productive, happier life and to look forward to the next one.

That week, the disciples kept me informed of Jesus" whereabouts. I walked to wherever I heard He was preaching, not only to see and hear Him, but to be near in case He needed me. Once or twice He acknowledged my presence by a turned up lip or a fast glance.

When He could get away from the crowds, we spent golden moments together. I treasured each one.

Once, He brought all the apostles, as well as the women, to my rented home. We were quite crowded and spilled over into the courtyard. The love, camaraderie and conversation made a memorable evening. Laughing and talking, Jesus preached to his followers without them aware of the lessons He taught.

I hated when the night ended. Fortunately, the weather was comfortable. Most found a place to lie down in the courtyard or on the roof of the tiny house, wrapped in their cloaks.

A few days later, as Abner and I sat talking, a loud knock resounded. I hurriedly opened the door and there stood the apostle John, the man Jesus called, “Beloved.”

His face held such an agitated look, I knew it had begun.

“Come in, John.” I invited, attempting to keep back the horror I felt.

He stumbled through the door. His rather short, slim body was erect, almost as though he were made from granite. His green eyes filled with tears that threatened to overflow. Small hands clasped each other so tightly I was afraid they might crack from the strain.

I grabbed his wrists, separating his hands and demanded. “Tell me, John.” I felt Abner move close behind me.

He gently disengaged my hand from John"s arm.

“Jesus is in trouble.” His words were softly spoken, but I would have heard them had he merely mouthed the words.

“Sit here.” I took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly as I pulled a chair from the table.

Abner placed a skin of wine in front of him as I got goblets for all of us. Then, I removed the cloth from a fresh loaf of bread. Cheese, cakes and boiled eggs followed.

“Begin at the beginning, John.” I said, much more calmly than I felt. “Leave nothing out.” I ordered. Abner and I sat on a bench on the other side of the table, facing him.

He reached for bread and cheese, then chewed silently for a moment. “Are you sure you want to know everything, Mary?”

“Very sure.” My voice was emphatic, though I gripped my hands together tightly, wondering if I would be able to take the news I was about to receive... yet knowing I must.

“We went to a man"s house who had prepared our meal for Passover. As we were eating, Jesus suddenly said,

„One of you is going to betray me." We couldn"t believe something like that could happen. We looked at each other suspiciously, then asked who it was.”

John broke a mouthful of bread, chewed, then drank wine. “I"m sorry to be so slow, Mary.”

“That"s all right, John.” I patted his arm, then took another deep breath. “Did He tell you who would betray Him?”

“He said that whoever dipped his hand in the bowl with Him was the one. We all stared at the bowl. Judas had his hand in the bowl with Jesus.”

“The treasurer?” Abner interrupted.

“Yes. Even with that sign, we couldn"t believe one of us could do such a thing, so we ignored it. A few minutes later Jesus took a loaf of bread, broke it and said, „Take. Eat. This is my body."”

“What did he mean?” Abner asked.

“We didn"t understand either, but He poured a cup of wine and said,„Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins."” Abner and I waited impatiently as John drank more wine, placed his goblet on the table and continued, “He said, „I"ll not drink of this fruit of the vine from now until the day when I drink it new with you in My Father"s kingdom.”

I knew now, the end was upon us.

John continued. “We sang a song, then went out to the Mount of Olives, where we prayed, as Jesus went farther from us. I"m so ashamed, Mary, but as the night lengthened, we fell asleep.”

I wanted to hit him for leaving My Son alone.

“When Jesus returned after leaving us the third time, He forgave us. We heard noises that sounded like a throng of people. When we looked up, there was Judas leading a crowd with swords and clubs. He said, „The one I kiss is the one. Seize Him!”

I couldn"t take my eyes from John as he continued.

“Jesus stood still as though he had been waiting for Judas.

Judas came to Jesus and kissed Him. The soldiers arrested Him and took Him away.” John hung his head as though he could never raise it in pride again.

“We were cowards. One of us, I don"t know who, cut off a soldier"s ear, but Jesus told him that the scriptures had to be fulfilled, so He simply replaced the ear.”

“Then...?

John told us of Jesus" three trials during the night...each far apart. “Jesus was shackled, then led from one place to another. Each of the trials produced its own form of abuse, from scourging to mockery to debasement.

“They took Him to Caiaphas, the high priest. They accused Him of saying He was The Son of Man. Jesus agreed that He was, indeed. Of course, they accused Him of blasphemy and said He must die.”

I wrung my hands, saying aloud, “Oh, my God!” Despair engulfed me, but John wasn"t finished.

He spoke slowly. “They beat Him, and slapped Him and spat in His face.” John"s face crumpled in tears as he related the events of that night. He gulped, swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Then what happened, John?” Abner asked quietly, gripping my shoulders tightly.

“They then tied Him and led him to Pilate the governor. The Governor asked Him, „Are you the King of the Jews?" and Jesus said, „It is as you say."”

“He didn"t try to save himself at all, did He, John?” My voice was quiet, matter-of-fact.

“No, Mary, He didn"t.” He took my hand and held it tenderly. “That isn"t all. Pilate wanted to release Him, but the crowd yelled they wanted to free Barabbas.”

“That horrible man?” I slid my hand from John"s.

John nodded. “The governor was a coward, of course. He asked for a pail of water, washed his hands and said,

„I am innocent of this man"s blood."”

John swallowed wine, wiped his mouth and continued. “They took Jesus and scourged him...”

I winced and Abner gripped my shoulders ever more tightly. “Oh, God,” I moaned.

“Then the soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium. They stripped Him and put an expensive robe on Him. They wove a crown of thorns and put it on His head, placed a reed in His hand.”

I didn"t think John even noticed the tears that flowed from my eyes as he continued talking. “They kept beating His head and spitting at Him, and knelt before him and mocked Him.”

“His sentence?” Abner asked quietly.

I knew from the Prophets, crucifixion was the method of Jesus" death, but when John told me, I lost my breath, slowly slid from the bench onto the floor, gasping.

Abner tenderly picked me up, holding me tightly. He then laid me on a couch and John brought a dampened cloth for Abner who wiped my sweat and tear-soaked face. I took deep breaths, attempting to calm myself. I knew I would need calmness to handle the trials ahead.

“John!” Abner ordered. “She cannot take any more.” His voice showed such anger and helplessness, it didn"t sound like Abner.

I sat up on the couch. “Don"t you two understand?” My voice was so quiet and calm, it surprised even me. “I knew Jesus would be crucified but I continued to hope His Father would save Him from such agony.”

“I know you"ve told me before,” Abner said. “You knew how He would die. But you didn"t tell me how you knew. Did God send an angel this time?”

I looked up at John who was staring at the both of us.

I shook my head as I stood. “No, there were no angels.” I took a deep breath and continued. “David, who wrote the psalms, tells of the death of Jesus. I"ve studied all those psalms, hoping I could find something to tell me He would not have to die in that manner.” The last words were from a tormented voice I barely recognized as my own. Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over. I could no longer control the anguish I felt. “Also, Abner, Many of the prophets foretold His demise.”

Abner"s voice held anger, hurt and bitterness, as he held me in his arms. “Oh, my God!” He whispered as sobs tore through my body. I cried until I was so weak I could cry no more.

Finally, I became calm. I arose, staggered, more than walked, back to the table. We sat and I said,”Tell me the rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“You must tell me. I have to know everything.” My voice sounded ragged, even to me. “I promised I would be with Him as long as I was allowed.”

Reluctantly, John took a deep breath. As he spoke, he crumbled a piece of bread onto the table. I barely noticed as he continued. “They took the robe off him and put his own robe back on and led him out of the palace. They placed the crossbar of a cross on his shoulders and began leading Him through the streets of Jerusalem.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned. “This is the day I have dreaded since the day He was born. I must go to Him.”

I stood, shaking off Abner"s hand from my shoulder. “Where is He, John?”

“They were in the city when I left, on the street called „Straight." The crowds are so thick I don"t see how you can get through to Him.”

“I will.” I was determined. Nothing or no one would stand in my way. I picked up my cloak, wondering if my children had made it to Jerusalem. I started to open the door when another knock sounded.

I quickly opened it and there stood Leah, the most welcome sight of my life, I think. “Have you heard?” she asked, as we clutched each other tightly.

“John just told us.”

Abner and John stood behind me. “Can I get you some wine or water or something, Leah?”

“Nothing, Mary. We must go at once. They are nearing Golgotha.” She looked closely, then wiped tears from my eyes with her small cloth. “I know you want to be there for Him. We"ve talked about it often enough.”

“I was just on my way out the door.”

As we left the courtyard, we heard noises in the distance. Entering the Street called Straight, we saw a crowd of people as thick and busy as a beehive, moving toward us. I had never heard such a clamor in my life, yet as we neared the multitude of people, the pandemonium was worse. People were running here and there, shouting,

“crucify Him!”

We entered that turmoil and moved with the crowd, my face dirty, tear stained and ravaged. We ignored everything and everyone. We shoved, pushed through the mob, determined to get near my Son. Jostling their way through, Abner and John opened a spot for Leah and me.

As we reached the street called Straight, we saw a crowd of people. Expectant looks on their faces made them appear to be watching a circus. I wanted to hit each of them, inflict some kind of misery, for enjoying the pain of My Son.

As the noise became overpowering, I saw the crowd turn toward a parade of soldiers.

Then, I saw Him.

It was now the third hour of the day. The walking, the scourging and sleeplessness had left Jesus incredibly weak. A six foot wooden beam weighing possibly 125 pounds was on His back. The newly-cut tree was still green and heavy with sap. As He moved, the crossbar rubbed open wounds and blood dribbled down His back.

When He was opposite me, He stumbled over the rough stones. I tried to get near to help with His burden, but Abner, John and the soldiers held me back. Again and again, He stumbled.

Soon it was apparent, even to hardened soldiers, Jesus was unable to carry the beam. Soldiers noticed a tall, heavily muscled man with skin almost black. His deep brown eyes glittered as he stood, watching the spectacle.

From the look on his face, he appeared to wonder what this was all about.

I found out later he was Simon, a Diasporan Jew from North Africa.

“Here,” one of the soldiers commanded. “You"re a hefty man. Take this man"s cross and bear it for Him.”

As they placed the crossbar on the man"s shoulder, he almost collapsed. His legs buckled for a moment. Soon, he walked alongside Jesus, attempting to help Jesus walk as well as carry the cross.

Jesus looked up at him, thanking him with his eyes. I watched both stumble through the streets .

Jesus fell three times on his way to Golgotha. I could barely stand the pain of My Child falling, especially since I was not allowed to pick Him up. I was small, but I knew I could find strength to help if I were allowed.

The crowd closed around me. I couldn"t see my Son! Panic enveloped me but John talked quietly to me, as he, Leah and Abner led me toward a hill.

Many people surrounded us...those who condemned Him and the women who had followed and ministered to Jesus for a long time. These women wept for the Man whom they knew was pure and holy. Many others were already on the hill when the crowd, Jesus behind the soldiers, finally arrived.

We reached the top of the hill.

I felt debased as Jesus was stripped of his garments and knocked to the ground. I thought by this time, I had run out of tears. But when they took his hands, held them down and pounded long spikes into His wrists, I found more tears. If I live to be a thousand years old, I shall never forget the pain that erupted in my body as each slow pound of the hammer drove those nails ever deeper.

When the nails were through His hands, blood seeped around them. Two soldiers then picked up Jesus and the crossbar He carried. They climbed a ladder almost to the top of the stationery pole and attached the cross bar.

As Jesus hung suspended by ropes attached to the cross bar in mid air, His arms were stretched across the beam.

I left John and Abner on the edge of the crowd to stand beneath the cross. Suddenly, Leah"s arms wound tightly around me and she held me as though she would never let go. Mary Magdalene, who loved Jesus was there as well as Mary, the wife of Clopas. They came to give me support. They were as devastated as I, that our Dear One was dying in such agony and disgrace.

Golgotha.

The hill in the shape of a skull.

My mind wandered. I could not accept My Son"s torment...the betrayal of a friend, torture, the trials, debasement, the agony of being nailed to a cross.

I looked everywhere except at the three crosses silhouetted against the cloudless blue of the sky.

Olive trees grew nearby. Their twisted limbs caught the rays of the sun, giving them a form and texture of exquisite beauty. Vines, with purple blooms, grew at the foot of the rock. These vines turned the limestone to a bright green. There were pine trees whose needles hung onto small limbs, shading a part of the boulder. Shrubs with their deep green, shiny leaves gleamed in freshly scrubbed splendor.

To me, it was indecent that the red poppies Jesus loved for their delicate petals and bright color, should bloom on such a day. Then I remembered. They were the color of the blood dripping from my child"s hands and feet.

This brought me back to the moment.

I"ll never know how I stood there, hour after hour, praying for the release of my Son"s soul.

During those long hours, my Son said few words, “I thirst,” were two of them. He was given vinegar on a sponge and my mouth cringed from the taste. Jesus was offered wine with myrrh, a sedative, but He refused.

Myrrh, the gift the Magi brought to Him so many years before. It seemed everything that happened in His life had led to this moment...to his death, between two thieves on that horrible cross.

In His agony, He also remembered me and asked John to care for me.

About the sixth hour, darkness slowly began descending over the land. People looked at each other in fright.

There was a stillness I had never felt before. It became so still and quiet, the crowd seemed to hold its collective breath.

Near the ninth hour Jesus wailed, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

The frightened crowd gasped in unison, then almost stopped breathing. Silence engulfed the entire hill. There was no shuffling crowd, no taunts, no sighs. One woman sobbed aloud; then there was no more sound.

Soon after, crying out with a loud voice He said, “Into thy hands I commit My spirit.” He closed His eyes.

I said a silent prayer, thanking God that Jesus hung only a relatively short time on the cross.

Suddenly, everyone and everything on the hill trembled. The sky darkened to almost a pitch black. Trees swayed. The earth shook with loud tremors. Finally, the curtain of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Stones from the Temple exploded in the air, then tumbled to the earth.

The crowd scattered like a handful of peas thrown in the air, their screams almost as loud as the thunder engulfing everything.

I heard later that some Jews went to Pilate and asked that the prisoner"s legs be broken and the bodies removed from the crosses because the next day was the Sabbath, a high day.

Pilate complied.

The soldiers climbed the ladder of the man on Jesus" right hand. This same man who had spoken with Jesus earlier in the day. When I heard the crack of the bones in his legs, I thought I would collapse. However, I stood there, numb, looking at my Son, whom I knew was already dead. The soldiers climbed down the ladder, then up the ladder on the left side of Jesus. He was still breathing, but barely.

As the bones of his legs snapped, his body jerked and only a low moan escaped from his lips, as he drew his last breath.

They then climbed the ladder to check on Jesus. Since Jesus was dead, I thought nothing else could happen to Him.

I was wrong.

Seeing that he was already dead, one soldier, whose eyes burned with frustration at not being able to break Jesus" legs, took his sword and pierced His side. Blood and water flowed. The streak of dirt-encrusted tears had already made a path from my eyes to my neck. Now, at the piercing of Jesus" side, I jerked as though the sword had entered my side. The pain was so intense I thought I would be unable to bear it. I looked down, expecting to see blood erupting from my robe.

Then, a hazy memory of long ago returned. Joseph and I carried Jesus to the temple in Jerusalem soon after His birth.

An old man introduced himself as Simeon. He looked at me with sorrow in his eyes and his voice penetrated to the depths of my soul as he said. “Behold, this Child is appointed for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and for a sign to be opposed. And a sword will pierce even your own soul...to the end that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”

As the memory faded, I knew I should feel differently. I should have been able to say to God, “Thy Will be done.” But I couldn"t...not at that moment. I was a bitter woman as I watched them take my Son from the cross.

So much happened so rapidly. Spices and herbs, such as the ones the Magi brought, were used. Jesus" body was then wrapped in cloths that reminded me of the swaddling clothes I used to wrap His new-born body.

A convert of Jesus, Joseph of Arimathea, offered his newly-hewn tomb to bury the Savior of the World.

After Jesus" burial, Leah, Abner, and I went to my home. Jeremiah and my children all newly-arrived in Jerusalem, stayed with me. We talked. We prayed. We sang songs to His glory. Then we wept for our loss. The bitterness finally lifted. I retained many precious memories of the love He gave all His life. And I knew He would be with me as long as I lived.

On the first day of the week, knocks on my door awoke me. “Jesus is alive! He is risen!” Never have I heard such glorious sounds.

These words echoed throughout the land during the days before He ascended to Heaven. Each time I saw Him, each time he visited, added precious memories.

I could now praise the God who loaned me His Son for so many years. What glorious years they had been. How blessed I really was, as Gabriel had promised, so many years before.