When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,91

behind him.

I suggested a cup of my best wine, but he declined.

“I don’t want your sisters to worry,” he said, “nor even to know about this until we decide what’s to be done.”

“Worry about what?” I demanded as I trimmed the smoking wick of an oil lamp. “Done about what?”

Flipping the hood back off his head, he put both elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “They are seeking your death!”

I was shocked. So far as I knew, I had no enemies worthy of the name. If I had gained some unmerited celebrity, surely envy could not rise to the level of murder. “Who? Who wants me dead … again?”

“The Temple authorities,” Nicodemus declared. “I have very few friends on the Council, as you know, but there are still some with just enough remaining conscience to send me anonymous notes. The latest said that Lord Caiaphas wants to kill Jesus … and you!”

“But why? For bringing me back from the grave? This is a reason for murdering both of us? Your source must be mistaken.”

“Listen!” Nicodemus demanded, fixing me with a forceful gaze. “And believe it! Here’s what happened in a secret meeting, to which I was not invited. You know how the scribes and certain Pharisees try to discredit Jesus?”

“Of course! They try to trap him with words, accuse him of Sabbath-breaking, of sorcery. Try to get him in trouble with the authorities over paying taxes. Remember, I saw what they attempted to do with my own sister.”

Nicodemus nodded and stroked his beard. “They haven’t stopped. After your … restoration …”

No one quite knew how to report that someone had been brought back to life. Raised? Revived?

Nicodemus continued, “There was a furor in the Council at the lack of success in destroying Jesus’ reputation, and now about you! ‘What are we accomplishing?’ they said. ‘If he goes on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away our leadership positions and our nation.’ ”

I snorted. “Right to the heart of the matter: their wealth, their importance, their ability to stay on good terms with Rome. It doesn’t matter that Jesus teaches us to love our enemies.”

“Or that he raises the dead. No, that makes him worse in their eyes. You can dismiss the teaching of a rabbi from the Galil, but you can’t argue when the evidence of divine authority walks around the streets of Jerusalem. You again, you see?”

Suddenly I understood the threat I represented. Alive, I was a witness to Jesus’ power. I was the ultimate testimony to the truth of his claims. As was Peniel, the once-blind man. “And how did Caiaphas respond?”

“He told them they were stupid and ignorant and easily panicked. He told them …” Nicodemus lowered his voice and motioned for me to bring my ear close to his lips. “He told them it was better for one man to die for the people than that the nation perish.”

“He said that? The high priest?” Amid my words of protest I knew the truth of the report. Lord Caiaphas and all his cadre were perfectly capable of killing anyone they saw as a threat to their ability to remain in power. “And that plot includes me?”

Nicodemus nodded grimly. “You especially. Jesus must withdraw from Judea, and you must go with him. In time this may blow over … or Caiaphas may die … or something. But for now, you both must leave.”

“Jesus certainly must go,” I said. “But me? How can I say this? I’m not afraid of dying. Never will be, ever again.”

My friend’s gaze bored into my own. He saw there that I spoke the absolute truth. Still, he shook his head. “But others may be hurt trying to protect you. Think of Mary. Think of Martha. Carta and Patrick. If they tried to rescue you, they would die too.”

I understood but still was not ready to agree. “Let me think and pray over this tonight. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Again, the good-hearted Pharisee disagreed. “No, nor can we meet again anytime soon. I’m certain the high priest’s assassins will try to follow me to you or to Jesus. I’m glad you hired bodyguards, but it’s not enough.”

“They’re not bodyguards,” I protested. “Those men are here to protect the grapes, not me.”

Nicodemus dismissed the difference. “Doesn’t matter. They may be the only reason you haven’t already been attacked. But you can’t stay inside your fences forever. They will certainly try to kill you in Jerusalem and make