When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,93

study every man with suspicion. Was there evil in that one’s eyes? Was another’s movement furtive? Did I see the outline of a dagger beneath another’s robe?

It was outside Nicanor Gate that Peniel found me. “The Master sent me to you,” he said. “He’s traveling today and wants you to come with him.”

I experienced such a rush of joy and relief. The decision had been made for me. There was no question now about going or staying behind. If Jesus called me, I would answer.

Even that brief thought resonated like the trumpet blast of a shofar. From across a great gulf I remembered Jesus calling me by name: “Lazarus! Come forth!”

Descending the steps by the Sheep Gate, the way was crowded with worshipers going up as we four tried to descend. At a particularly narrow turning, three men abreast left almost no room for us to pass. All were husky-built, broad-shouldered chaps. They were dressed alike, wearing nondescript brown robes topped by dark blue hoods. It was almost like a uniform, though I gave little thought to it then.

Unaccountably, Peniel stumbled on the hem of his robe. His lunge knocked me sideways past the oncoming trio. There was a chorus of complaints and a strange, momentary hissing that did not register with me at the time. My two sentries helped get the tangle sorted out, and then we continued downward.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peniel said, smiling. “Sometimes I think I’m still not used to walking by sight, instead of by faith alone. It has taken some getting used to.”

It was not until we reached the outskirts of Jerusalem that one of my guards called my attention to a tear in the fabric of my robe. My thoughts flashed back to the encounter on the stairs. Now I understood. The sound I had heard like steam escaping from a kettle was of an extremely sharp blade slitting cloth. My garment was sliced from chest to waist, without touching my skin.

If Peniel’s fall had not pushed me out of harm’s way, would the dagger have lodged in my heart?

I had no way to know.

The village of Ephraim was where Jesus chose to lead his band of followers on his self-imposed exile from Jerusalem. It was about ten miles north of the Holy City. The tiny hamlet lay very near the border between Judea and Samaria and was even smaller than his home in Nazareth.

As far as I could judge, Ephraim possessed only two claims to fame. Situated on the highest hill along the spiny ridge stretching from David’s City to the Galil, it had a magnificent view in every direction. From its summit I saw the sink of the Dead Sea, a great swath of the Jordan Valley, and the summit of Mount Hermon far to the north.

I watched a curling, black smudge on the southern horizon where the smoke of the Temple offerings rose to the Almighty. I studied the Temple itself, standing like a snow-capped peak above the buff-colored sandstone walls.

I thought about what went on within its courts: prayers and tears, repentance and supplication, joy and thanksgiving … envy and plots.

Two of Jesus’ closest followers stood beside me. Phillip remarked, “If they send a troop of soldiers after us, we can see them coming for miles.”

“And then what?” Thomas returned drily. “Throw rocks?”

Ephraim’s other significance was that it lay above one of the pilgrim routes to the sacred feasts. When Passover arrived, as it would in a short while, hundreds of families from Galilee would pass almost beneath our noses.

“You know he still intends to go back there for Passover,” John, one of the Zebedee brothers, remarked. “We’re only staying here until he can return to Jerusalem with friends from home.”

“Perhaps I can talk him out of it,” mused Peter, the one they called “Rock” or “the big fisherman.”

“You’ve had no great success with that before,” Andrew, Peter’s brother, observed. “Not once.”

“And he must go,” Judas Iscariot said sharply. “It’s time for him to reveal himself. If he misses this feast, everyone will say he’s afraid. He’s already losing popularity by disappearing, like he has now. He must assert himself, and then they’ll all rally to him.”

While the disciples continued squabbling among themselves, I thought more about Judas. He was a curiosity among the inner circle of the rabbi from Nazareth, since he was the only one not from Galilee. He was an educated, well-spoken man and had a head for business. He was trusted by the group to manage their