Several days before all the people came for the cleansing ceremony, I heard a few men talking to my uncle. After I put my studies into my satchel, I snuck forward to listen.
“What are we going to do about this Jesus?” a man asked.
“This man certainly preforms miracles,” said another. “If we leave him alone, the whole nation will follow him, and then the Roman army will come and destroy both our Temple and our nation.”
“How can you be so stupid?!?” asked my uncle, Caiaphas. “Why should the whole nation be destroyed? Let this one man die for the people.”
I was very, very, surprised to hear this, (no doubt that had to do with the fact that I was expecting a theological discussion) but I kept quiet and tried to hear what my uncle was saying.
“Now this Jesus, do you…”
After that I could hear no more of the conversation.
I knew I held information within my head that endangered my freedom for the next fortnight.
I slowly backed up, and turned around. I tiptoed back a few steps and then came forward whistling to make sure they could hear me.
When I entered the room the men all fell silent.
“Hello, Uncle,” I said, as nonchalantly as possible. I just wanted to let you know I finished and I’m heading home.”
“Wonderful! I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Yes.”
I walked out of the Temple and started on a dead run for home.
Before I reached our house I saw Mother in the yard. She waved and I returned the gesture. I zoomed past her into the house, threw my satchel into the bedroom, turned around, and started racing back towards my tree.
It was my sanctuary. My place of rest. It also served as the place where my heaviest thinking was carried out.
Now was definitely time for some heavy thinking.
First, I listed three reasons I shouldn’t tell Mother about Uncle Caiaphas’ plot.
One, He is her older brother and she loves him very much.
Two, He would find out who ratted on him and lock me into an eternal apprenticeship. (Six months is quite enough if you ask me!)
Three, I didn’t like Uncle Caiaphas and he didn’t really like me either. So Mother would probably think I was making a story about him.
Then I thought maybe I could find out a little more about Jesus.
First I needed to know who he was.
I climbed down and sauntered into the house. Mother was preparing dinner.
“Mother?”
“Yes, Jonathan?”
“Do you know if there is a man who can make miracles? Jesus, is his name.”
She paused, as if preparing a speech.
“I have heard of such a man. I do not know for sure, but why do ask?”
“I heard Uncle Caiaphas talking about him.”
Next I tried our neighbors. They were a little more informative. They said that Jesus was said to be coming to Jerusalem in a week or so. They had seen him before, they said he was healing people left and right. They certainly believed in him. So I thanked them and started waiting. And waiting. And…
Then, five days before the Passover, I heard a couple people talking excitedly about the miracle maker, Jesus. I walked up to them and asked if they knew when Jesus was coming.
“I believe that he’s coming any minute now,” one of them said.
“Thanks!” I said and hurried off to the road.
When I got there I saw huge crowd of people gathered on both sides of the road. Many had palm branches in their hands. I scurried around the crowd in search of a break in the wall of people. I found a crack and squeezed through. I got to the front of the crowd and saw a man riding a donkey’s colt.
“Praise God! Bless the one who comes in the name of the lord! Hail to the king of Israel,” the crowd shouted.
There were men behind him but I was studying the man, who I assumed (correctly) was Jesus, too much notice anything about them. I looked at him and saw that he was of an average stature. He had normal clothes on. The only thing out of the ordinary was the way he smiled. It was not a distanced smile of a king looking down on his people, but a loving, understanding smile. He looked around at everyone and when he came to me, he looked directly at me. I couldn’t move. I wasn’t terrified, but I was scared in a somewhat healthy way. It was as if he knew what I struggled with and what I knew. I kept looking at him. And at the moment he rode out of sight I knew I had to tell the man of his plotted death.
I followed Jesus on the way to the house he was staying at. I kept behind walls and passing carts to stay out of view. When they got to the house they all entered, leaving the donkey outside.
I snuck over to the house and sat down. I hugged my knees and attempted to quiet my breath. When I settled down, I crept over to the front of the house and then ran back to my space on the side. I did this several times until I finally got up the courage to enter the house. I walked slowly up to the door and…
When I awoke, I was staring at the ceiling. I sat up and glanced over to my right. There was the man known as Jesus. I started to say something incoherent when he interrupted gently.
“The donkey kicked you, my son. You were asleep for awhile, and you had a large gash on your forehead.”
I reached up to rub my forehead and found that there were no marks like the ones he had described.
I sat up and found I had no ill affects. I stood quickly and asked him the time.
“It is well after noon.”
“I must hurry home! But wait! You need to know that–”
“I know,” he said.
I stared at him incredulously.
“I know,” he repeated, with a nod.
I continued to stare, then walked out of the house. I walked silently to my house.
Strangely unsatisfied, I fell into my bed that night. My curious nature told me I was going to be following this man.
On the first day of the Passover celebration I decided to stake out behind the house Jesus was staying at. I had noticed before that there was a window near a tree. And as a tree-climber I naturally put two and two together and had the perfect place to eavesdrop.
Once I got there I climbed the tree and found a nice branch that was comfortable. I could see directly into the house and soon heard men entering the room. It was already prepared for the Passover meal so they sat down. Jesus and the men were discussing things that I could not here but I did catch a glimpse of Jesus washing a man’s feet! I was so surprised I almost fell out of the tree!
I heard some more talking but could not make it out. But then I heard Jesus exclaim, “The truth is, one of you will betray me!”
All of the men whispered and glanced around as if trying to find out who it was. One of them asked Jesus.
He said, “It is the one to whom I give the bread dipped in sauce.”
When he dipped it he gave it to a man I had seen before. Judas Iscariot.
“Hurry. Do it now,” Jesus said.
After he ate the bread, Judas left.
I decided to follow Judas. To see what he was going to do. He went straight to the Temple and came out with a battalion of Roman soldiers and Temple guards. I heard them say that Jesus was at the grove of olives. I knew where the place was and I ran as fast as my little legs could carry me. I ran even faster up the hill until I sagged to my knees at the top. When I stood up I could see the men sleeping around the general entrance to the grove. Then I saw, by the light of the moon, Jesus, on his knees, praying.
Before I could run towards him I felt someone behind me. It was a man, robed in shining clothes! His whole being was shining. I tried to move but found I couldn’t. I nearly screamed.
The angel held a finger to his lips and shook his head.
“Do not fear me. I have come to stop you. Jesus has need of time to spend with his Father. It would be better for everyone if you let him continue praying.”
“But the Roman soldiers! There coming to ge–”
I suddenly found that I could not speak. The angel looked at me like, Really? You think God would let Jesus die, without a plan?
“Do you not think,” the angel said, “that if Jesus asked God would give him twelve legions of angels, at his disposal?”
Something about the way that he said it made me shake my head.
“The men are coming. I will give you the choice. You can either stay and watch, but you must promise not to interfere, or, go home.”
“I promise I will not interfere,” I said, as an answer.
The angel nodded.
“You see that bush over there? Go hide behind it.”
As I crouched behind the bush I saw soldiers carrying flaming torches. Others held lanterns and most were heavily armed. I was scared but, almost morbidly, I still wanted to watch. I kept my eyes on the large group of soldiers. One of them, unarmed, walked up to Jesus.
“Teacher!” he exclaimed.
Then he proceeded to kiss Jesus on both cheeks. Then Jesus stepped forward.
“Whom are you searching for?” he asked.
“Jesus of Nazareth,” said one.
“I am he.”
Inexplicably, all of the soldiers and Temple guards fell backwards when Jesus said this.
“Whom are you searching for,” Jesus asked once more.
“Jesus of Nazareth.”
“I told you that I am he.”
Then Jesus was seized and taken to Annas, Uncle Caiaphas’ father-in-law.
On the way, I heard a man, Simon Peter, saying, “No. I am not.”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that they had a fire going. I shivered in the cold night. Then I stepped forward and continued following Jesus and the soldiers.
I snuck in a special back way, and hid behind a pillar.
Then I heard Annas ask Jesus about his followers and what he had taught them.
Jesus replied, “What I teach is widely known, because I have preached regularly in the synagogues and the Temple. I have been heard by the people everywhere, and I teach nothing in private that I have not said in public. Why are you asking me this question? Ask those who heard me. They know what I said.”
I winced as a Temple guard struck Jesus across the face and reprimanded him for speaking to the priest that way.
“If I said anything wrong you must give evidence for it. Should you hit a man for telling the truth?”
Then Annas, tired of trying to get Jesus to speak, told the soldiers and guards to take Jesus to Caiaphas.
I slipped out of the back way and ran to the Temple. I hid myself in the room they were sure to question Jesus in. Sure enough fifteen minutes later, they entered with my uncle, Caiaphas. Uncle Caiaphas tried for hours to get Jesus to say anything. But Jesus just stood there and stared at him with sad, pleading eyes. I could see he just wanted to be done with the trial. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Uncle Caiaphas gave in. The soldiers bound Jesus and they all, including my uncle, went to the house of the governor, Pilate.
When they arrived at the house Pilate asked, “What is your charge against this man?”
“We wouldn’t have brought him to you if he wasn’t a criminal,” they retorted.
“Then take him away and judge him by your own laws.”
“But only Romans can execute people.”
Then Pilate decided to take him inside, and as I had no way in I stood, silent, in the shadows.
“He is not guilty,” Pilate said, when he came out. “But you people have a custom of releasing a prisoner at this time of year, do you want me to release The King of the Jews?”
“No!” shouted everyone, rather hurriedly. “Not this man but Barabbas!”
That caught me completely off guard. Barabbas was a murderer. He was a hideous man, with scars all over his body from floggings he had received as punishment for his many crimes. All of the women hated him because he was unpredictable. He could (would) kidnap children at any time of day. Jesus, on the other hand would not hurt a flea, it seemed.
Nevertheless, the crowd kept shouting for Barabbas. So, Pilate had Jesus flogged and the soldiers made a crown of thorns that made me cringe. The thorns were three inches long, at least. As soldiers mocked Jesus they put a purple robe on him. That made me mad. It was all I could do to hold from yelling out and striking madly at the soldiers and priests. What had this man done, that he should die for the people? Nothing. And yet, he stood there. He took the beatings. He took the mockery. He said nothing.
It went on until noon the next day. Everyone stood outside of the Stone Pavement platform. Pilate had tried to set Jesus free but the wily priests said that Jesus was a rebel against Caesar because he called himself a king. Then Pilate stood to speak.
“Here is you king!”
“Away with him,” the crowd shouted back. “Crucify him!”
“What? Crucify your king?” asked Pilate.
“We have no king but Caesar!” the leading priests shouted.
Pilate looked distressed, and who wouldn’t be. I had seen Pilate handle an accusation before. He was a good, honest man. But the pressure from the people made him hand him over to be crucified.
They took Jesus away. When they came to the cross they made him carry it himself. His blood mixed with his sweat as he carried it to Golgotha. There they stretched him out on the cross and nailed his hands to the cross. I heard the cracking of his hands even though I tried not to. His flesh was easily penetrated by the steel spikes. Pilate nailed a sign above his head that said: Jesus of Nazareth, and King of the Jews.
Jesus asked for a drink after they had righted the cross. They gave him some wine, he tasted it and said, “It is finished!”
At that very moment the Temple curtain tore and the sky turned dark, though it was only mid-afternoon. I ran away, I couldn’t stand to see any more.
Tears streamed down my face. I ran over the hills to the cemetery. Over the next hill was my house. But soon I stopped and stared. My grandfather, my very alive grandfather was standing there. I tried to say something, I think. But no words came out. I so afraid that when I ran home I just cried on my bed. I didn’t eat anything. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything the rest of the day.
The next day was much of the same. I don’t think anyone did anything. I was still trying to figure out how to tell Mother. But I could think of no way.
Finally, my mother was able to convince me to eat something. I then said I was going to take a walk. I ran to the my tree which was starting to bear edible figs. I munched on a few. Then I tried to feed one to a squirrel. But I missed. It hit a branch and fell toward the ground. But I didn’t hear the normal plop of the fruit falling and slamming against the hard ground.
“May I try?”
Jonathan, you’re just dreaming. There is no way that Jesus is down there, I thought.
But when I looked down, there he was! The squirrel was resting on his forearm and eating the fig out of his hand. I swung out of the tree and stared. I was too happy to say anything. I just ran up and embraced Jesus. I held on for all I was worth. There was no way I could let him go. I had known the man for less then an hour. Yet, I was held captive by him. Under the spell of his love and kindness.
Then, we just walked. We walked and talked. He told me many things that I later told Uncle Caiaphas. (Who later made me copy the words, I will not believe false prophets, over five hundred times) He told me of his kingdom. I learned many things that I had not even been allowed to think before. It was amazing to know things that Uncle Caiaphas hadn’t said anything to me about. I was excited to tell every one about this love and kingdom. And Before Jesus left that’s what he asked me to do. And so I do.
This is the story of Easter from a young boy’s perspective.
I hope you enjoyed it!
