When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,96

torture, and death.

From the expressions all around me, none of us were able to cross from the picture raised by the sensation of dread to what “rise again” foretold.

“What does that mean?” Thomas hissed.

“Gather your things. Let’s be going,” Jesus concluded. He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the portrait of terror he had just painted had to be accepted without question.

A scrub jay scolded us from the brush as we formed a line and started down the path.

John walked beside me. “You, of any of us, may understand what he’s saying,” John murmured. “You who have been across the gulf and come back.”

“Been called back,” I corrected. “It was Jesus’ voice who summoned me. If he is dead—as dead as they tell me I was—who will call him to rise again? Can I? Can you? Can any of us? No, John, I don’t understand it either. Sometimes I think I catch a glimmer of what he’s saying, like the glimmer of light around a corner in a dark hallway. But when I reach the corner, the lamp is still not there. It’s still shining ahead somewhere, but not yet fully seen.”

John cleared his throat. “He loves you very much. And me as well, I think. Perhaps we can get him to explain further?”

I shrugged. “It’s not a failure of his love or of his willingness to speak plainly. How much more plain can he be than to use the word crucify? As for the rest, it’s a failure on our ability to comprehend, that’s all. If I was again in olam haba, someone there would teach me … but not here. We must muddle through as best we’re able. We must trust him to bring us full understanding when it’s time.”

Halfheartedly we sang:

“The LORD watches over you—

the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all harm—

he will watch over your life;

the LORD will watch over your coming and going

both now and forevermore.”4

Two phrases reverberated in my thoughts: “All the prophets wrote about the Son of Man” and “Rise again.” I could not begin to define or even comprehend what all that meant. With each step nearer to Jerusalem, I was certain we would very soon find out.

Chapter 33

We descended the hill of Ephraim and set out toward Jerusalem. Instantly we were surrounded by old friends. The first family I met was that of my cousin Jairus, the cantor from the Capernaum synagogue. With him was his daughter, Deborah, whom Jesus raised from the dead.

The girl spotted Jesus while they were still some distance apart. She ran to him and, casting aside any reserve, threw her arms around him. He hugged her in return, the embrace growing in intensity and participants as Deborah’s father and mother also sealed the reunion.

The gloom that had settled on the disciples over Jesus’ talk of his death was instantly dispelled. Instead, we felt the radiant joy of life restored and families reunited. Just as morning sun over Faithful Vineyard drives away mist, so joy made our anxiety vanish.

The two pilgrim groups mingled. Deborah walked beside me, impulsively seizing my hand. “Dear cousin, how glad I am to see you again,” she gushed. “And I hear we share something few others can speak of.” She confided in me: “I know my death caused great sorrow for my family. But when I am again in olam haba, if it’s up to me, I won’t come back here again.”

My heart was carried back to my precious wife and son. “I know,” I agreed. “What makes it possible for me to remain here now with any happiness is—”

“The presence of Jesus,” she concluded for me.

“Exactly.”

We walked along together. Different knots of old friends met and coalesced like raindrops splashing into puddles and the puddles in turn overflowing to form rivulets.

Jairus brought me to another man whose life had also been transformed by Jesus. “You know Simon. He’s a Pharisee, but he has a good heart!”

Simon owned two estates—one in Galilee and another not far from my own in Bethany—but we had never been close friends.

“My sister Mary told me more of you,” I said, shaking his hand. “It was at your home she anointed Jesus’ feet after he saved her life and set her on a new path.”

A twinge of anguish crossed Simon’s face. “I was still a self-righteous fool in those days.”

“Me too,” I said, breaking into a