too come all this way to repent and be baptized?”
The youngest of the brotherhood of pious Pharisees, a fair-skinned fellow who appeared as though he had never spent a day working, raised a bejeweled hand and mocked, “Then who are you? Are you Elijah?”
John replied, “I am not.”
The second Pharisee, darker and older, roared, “Are you the Prophet?” by which he meant the enigmatic figure promised by Moses the Lawgiver.
John shook his shaggy head. “No.”
Then the three religious rulers were joined by others who pushed their way through the crowd to stand and challenge John’s preaching.
“Who are you?”
“Give us an answer to take back to those who sent us.”
“What do you say about yourself?”3
“What right do you have to preach as you do and demand repentance?”
The ordinary folk stirred and began to shout back at the religious rulers: “Let him alone!”
“He speaks to us the truth about Torah!”
“Why do you come here to threaten and trouble a man who teaches us the truth?”
“Go back to Jerusalem and leave us in peace.”
The possibility of violence grew. I leaned closer to Judah when he grasped my arm. “We should go,” I urged. “Now. Or be caught in the middle of something …”
Judah nodded but hung back. “A moment more. I want to hear the Baptizer’s answer.”
I was certain if anyone tried to harm John there would be a riot. Then I spotted the bodyguards behind the Temple officials. Disguised soldiers moved forward through the throng. They covered their military clothes with civilian cloaks. But their coarse features and cold eyes identified them for what they were: cousins and relatives of Herod on the family payroll!
I turned to go.
Then, suddenly, alone in the gently flowing water of the Jordan, John raised his arms to quiet the crowd. He replied in the words of Isaiah the prophet. “I am the voice of one calling in the desert, ‘Make straight the way for the Lord!’”
Again the eldest Pharisee questioned him, “Why then do you baptize if you are not the Christ, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet?”
John declared, “I baptize with water, but among you stands one you do not know. He is the one who comes after me, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie.”4
I stopped midstride and turned, searching the crowd. Had I heard correctly? The one we had been waiting for was here? The Lion of Judah! Among us? And yet we did not know him? Did not recognize him?
A mixture of amazement and confusion surged through the onlookers. The Pharisees regarded one another in astonishment. Soldiers, hands on the hilts of concealed daggers, glared at those who surrounded them.
Who did John recognize that we did not? I thought of Samuel the prophet who searched the fine strapping sons of Jesse until he at last anointed the youngest … a shepherd boy … who was to become King David. Jesse himself had doubted the prophet’s judgment when David was selected, but the Spirit of the Lord knew the identity of the future ruler of Israel.
Judah caught up with me as I turned. His eyes were wide. He was breathless. “Did you hear that?”
I nodded, scanning the multitude for the one to whom John referred. There was no hint on the expression of anyone that he might be the Messiah in disguise.
Judah held tightly to my sleeve. “Did you hear?” he repeated. “The Baptizer says the Righteous One is present! Surely we can’t turn back now! What if he is revealed and we might have met him? If the Lion of Judah is about to roar, we must stay!”
I recognized the jackals of Herod’s guards and the pet dogs of the hired priests. No one I saw appeared to be the Lion of Judah, and yet John the Baptizer had guaranteed that none of us would turn back until the identity of the long-awaited Messiah, the promised Son of David, was revealed.
Judah and I camped out under the stars that night.
Cook fires dotted the hillsides like the bivouac of a vast army. In truth, however, we were a divided camp. The Pharisees, eager to carry back news about a new rebel messiah, joined the soldiers on the top of the ridges.
I gazed beyond the ridgeline at the stars in wonder that the Anointed One was alive and might be viewing the same night sky. Perhaps even at that very moment, Messiah broke bread by the glow of a nearby bonfire.
“Do you suppose we’ll get to speak with him?” my friend