Читать книгу Journey of the Pearl - A. E. Smith - Страница 10

Pontius Pilate, the fifth Roman prefect appointed to the Judean province, scanned the city from a window in Herod’s Palace. He watched with relief as the activity of life, once again, was ordinary. The sun, which had regained its familiar brilliance, was edging toward the west. The Roman sighed with sorrow and satisfaction. He regretted sending Yeshua to his death, but he had satisfied the Jewish Sanhedrin.

Pontius despised the complicated Jewish religion. He had caused riots by displaying the Roman standards overlooking Solomon’s Temple, and inside Herod’s Palace. Pilate had raided the Temple treasury to pay for improvements to the aqueduct system that brought water to Herod’s Palace, which brought the province to the brink of revolt. The governor turned his Roman soldiers loose on the protesters who were massacred. Every offensive act stirred up protests, costing Emperor Tiberius resources and manpower. Finally, Tiberius issued an ultimatum—one more riot and Pilate would be exiled.

Pontius was pleased with the frustration his last order caused the Sanhedrin. The crimes were posted over the heads of every crucified criminal as a lesson to would-be offenders. Instead of posting blasphemy as the crime, Pontius ordered an inscription proclaiming Yeshua “King of the Jews.” Yet, it wasn’t only to exert his authority; it was because of Yeshua’s response when the governor asked him, “What is truth?”

Yeshua answered, “I am the Truth.” For a moment, Pontius believed him.

Every Passover, a convicted criminal would be released to the people. Pontius offered Yeshua, but the crowd wanted Barabbas, a depraved man, who had instigated a revolt causing many deaths. Pontius chaffed at releasing Barabbas. The riot he had led was the “final straw” for Emperor Tiberius. However, Pontius gave into the demands of the crowd, freed Barabbas, and sentenced Yeshua to death by crucifixion. The crowd quickly dispersed. Pontius was left alone with regret, which gave over to gnawing anxiety when the impossible darkness lasted for hours. During the earthquake, Pontius feared he had made a terrible mistake. When the shaking stopped, and the sun shone once again, he dismissed his panic as momentary hysteria.

A voice pulled him back to the present. “Your Excellency,” said his personal attendant, “there is a council member from the Sanhedrin who wishes to speak with you.”

Pontius waved a hand of dismissal, but changed his mind. “Take him into my library.”

The man’s name was Joseph, from the town of Arimathea. Pilate gestured at a chair. “Please, sit down. Joseph of Arimathea, one of the richest men in Judea. I’ve heard you own every tin mine in the province. What can I do for you?”

“Governor Pilate, I ask for the body of the man named Yeshua who has been crucified. I wish to bury him according to our customs.”

“If you are willing to bury him, why didn’t you defend him?”

Joseph did not care to satisfy Pilate’s curiosity. “My actions are irrelevant to my request. Will you release his body to me for burial?”

“Perhaps you should wait until he is dead.”

“He is already dead.”

“So quickly?” Pontius curled a lip. “I doubt that.” He called for his servant. “Bring the centurion in charge of the Nazarene’s crucifixion.” Pilate studied Joseph. “Why do you pay him this honor? Your own people demanded his execution.”

“I did not side with my brethren on this matter. I saw the miracles Yeshua did. No one could do these things unless he was from God.”

“If so, why would God let him die like a slave?”

“I don’t have all the answers. Yet that does not stop him from being God’s servant. It is not for us to question the actions of God.”

“I have heard some say that this Yeshua was your long foretold Messiah. Haven’t you had countless men claim the same thing?”

Joseph explained how the age-old prophesies concerning the Messiah had occurred this day. Many of these events were out of human control, especially for Yeshua. There were many more prophecies Joseph described in detail, thinking Pilate’s lack of interruption was a sign of interest. In reality, Pilate was thinking how he might discuss these issues with Herod, hoping to bond with the ruler. One always needed allies, especially when in disfavor with the emperor.

When Adas appeared in the doorway, the governor shook his head impatiently. “Whoever he was, it is done and I washed my hands of it. Centurion, tell me the condition of the crucified Nazarene.”

“Your Excellency, the man called out, ‘It is finished,’ and immediately died. Then the earth shook. He has been dead for some time.”

“How would you know what the Nazarene said? Surely, he spoke in Hebrew.”

“I am fluent in Hebrew, Your Excellency.”

“Leave us.” Pilate gestured impatiently. “Return to your post.”

“Your Excellency,” said Joseph, “When Yeshua died, the earth shook. I am told that when the earth shook, the veil which separates the people from the Most Holy Place in the Temple ripped apart from the top, where no man can reach.”

“Isn’t the veil as thick as a man’s fist? How did it rip?”

“By the hand of God.”

Pontius gave Joseph a surly glare. “Take the body. Do with it as you please.”

Joseph expressed his gratitude and left. Hurrying out of the palace, he found Nicodemus, his fellow councilman. Together, laden with oils and spices, they went to Golgotha. They greeted John and the women who had been huddled on the ground.

“Come on,” Adas said to his men. “We’ll wait over there,” he tilted his head over his shoulder, “and let them take care of their dead.”

The soldiers moved off, but kept watch. John spoke to Joseph and Nicodemus as he glanced at Adas. Joseph looked at Adas and nodded. Adas acknowledged the gesture.

Joseph turned his attention to the mother of Yeshua. “My dear woman, with your permission, I will prepare your Son for burial. I own an unused tomb in the garden. May I bury him there?” Mary thanked him.

John and the two councilmen took Yeshua down, wrapped his body in strips of linen, and spices, and carried him to the garden nearby. It required all three of them to roll the stone to seal the tomb. Mary Magdalene followed behind to see the tomb’s location. She and the other women planned to anoint the body with oils after the Sabbath. Moving the heavy stone would be a problem, but they prayed that God would provide help.

Mary Magdalene thanked Nicodemus and Joseph, and returned to Yeshua’s mother. Mary helped the grieving woman to her feet. She moved slowly for every joint of her body ached with sorrow. Nicodemus and Joseph offered to escort the women to their homes.

Jamin didn’t have enough money to buy spices, but he had linen for his brother’s burial. He asked John if he would help take Demas down. Jamin was glad he had not vented his anger against Yeshua, since he needed John’s help. They removed the body from the cross.

“Jamin, I will help you carry him to the field,” John offered.

Before they left, Jamin saw there was no one to remove the other thief. He glanced at the centurion and back at the man hanging from his cross. Jamin asked John to wait and approached the soldiers as they gathered their gear.

“Sir, there is no one for the other man. After I bury my brother, I will come back. Is there anyone to help?”

“No need,” answered Adas, “I will see to the other man.” Jamin thanked him.

“Octavean, you and Falto take that man down. Hektor, go tell two guards in the south tower to report to me.” The three legionaries obeyed. Since Golgotha could be seen from the watch towers of the Antonia, Hektor didn’t have far to go. Within minutes the guards appeared.

“Take the body to the potter’s field.” Adas gave one of the soldiers a copper dupondius. “Make sure the attendant buries him properly.” Lucius and Falto helped the two soldiers remove the body. The two soldiers left, carrying the dead man between them.

“Sir, who will pay for his burial?” asked Jamin.

“It has been provided,” Adas said. “No one will see his decay.” He turned away as the three legionaries joined him. Together they walked the short distance to the garden.

Jamin and John carried the body of Demas to the burial field. Jamin watched as Demas was properly buried. Jamin turned to John. “Demas said something just before he died, but I could not hear him. Could you?”

“No, but the big legionary and the centurion were close enough to hear. Of course, Demas spoke in Hebrew, so you’ll probably never know.”

“The centurion speaks Hebrew.”

“Then he would have heard every word, even what Yeshua said.”

“I wish I could talk to him without the other soldiers around.”

John gazed off into the distance. “You know when my Lord died, I couldn’t. . .I couldn’t believe he was really gone. I was so sure he was the Messiah. Did you hear what the centurion said? I thought my ears were playing tricks on me.”

“Yes, I heard him, too. He said Yeshua must be the Son of God. Why would a Roman say that about someone he had just executed? But he is not a typical Roman. He was respectful.”

“I noticed that as well. I told Joseph and Nicodemus.”

Back inside the city they parted ways. Jamin returned to Cleopas’s house. He climbed onto the roof and sat on his mat. He curled his knees up to his chin, folded his arms around his shins, and sobbed. Jamin cried aloud, “God, why do you hate me? Why do you turn your face from me? You let the Romans kill my whole family. You let me believe in. . .in a dead man. Why don’t you kill me, too?” There was only silence.

Beyond grief, Jamin contemplated a yellow glow in the darkening sky. The rising moon was huge against the background of squat houses terracing the hillsides. Slowly, it rose higher, shrinking as it changed to a brilliant white. Jamin shivered in spite of the warm evening. His family was dead. His faith was dead. His hope was dead. Jamin wanted to be just as dead.

Across the city, the chief priests entered Herod’s Palace to beg Pilate for a favor.

“Governor, the Nazarene claimed he would live again on the third day. We request that you order a guard for the tomb so his disciples cannot steal the body.”

Pilate grunted with disdain. “You have your own security guards. Superstition is not a concern of the Roman Empire. What do we care if your gullible people believe a dead man lives? You have a guard; go your way, make it as secure as you know how.”

They left, grumbling among themselves. A chief priest said, “It may be too late already. They could have carried the body off without burying it.”

“Yes, that is possible,” agreed Joseph Caiaphas. “Perhaps we should see the tomb for ourselves. We know where they took the body. If his followers have already hidden it, then we will accuse Pilate for allowing this deception.”

Caiaphas and the others took the road to the old quarry, now converted into a burial garden. At the gate, they were surprised to find a squad of Roman soldiers standing guard. They glanced at each other, puzzled, but decided to ask no questions. Perhaps someone at the Antonia assigned the soldiers to guard the tomb, even though Pilate refused. The chief priests didn’t care why the soldiers were there. They smiled with relief and turned away.