The Redeemer (23 page)
“I’m thinking You’re going to bring about the glorious kingdom we’ve been expecting,” said James. “Am I right?”
“And so?” Jesus asked.
“We want dibs on the seating arrangement,” John answered. “Let us each sit next to You, one on the right and one on the left.”
Can you imagine the nerve of those two? I wanted to smack them. Jesus must have felt the same way.
“Seriously? Are you prepared to be baptized in the same fire as I will be?”
“Fire?” asked James. “You’re talking about spiritual fire, right? Not real flames.”
“Doesn’t matter. We can do it,” John insisted.
“As long as it’s figurative fire, I’m good.” James wanted a qualifier.
Jesus stopped walking and shook His head at both of them.
“Your words will judge you. It isn’t for Me to decide who will sit at My right or My left when I come into My glory. It’s My Father’s decision.”
“But You could put in a good word for us, couldn’t You? It would mean so much to our mother.”
Jesus kept walking.
As we approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage and Bethany at the Mount of Olives, Jesus called Bartholomew and Thomas forward.
“Go to the village ahead of you, and just as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here.”
“What if someone thinks we’re stealing it?” Bartholomew asked.
“If anyone asks you what you’re doing, say, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here shortly.’”
I went with them, and sure enough, it was right where Jesus said it would be; a colt outside in the street, tied at a doorway. Glancing nervously at the group of people across the street, Thomas untied the colt.
“So far so good,” he said. “Just act natural. Don’t attract any attention.”
“We’re stealing a donkey,” Bartholomew said. “Don’t you think the owner might notice?”
“Borrowing, not stealing. Borrowing.”
“If the owner doesn’t know we’re borrowing, it’s stealing.”
Just then a man came running toward them.
“Hold it. Where do you think you’re taking my donkey?”
“Oh, hello there,” Thomas said as he held tight to the colt, who was now trying to get away. “We were hoping to run into the owner of this fine animal.”
“We’re just going to borrow it for a little while,” said Bartholomew. “We’ll be back in no time.”
“Police!” shouted the man.
“No, wait. You’ve got us all wrong.”
“Police! These men are stealing my donkey.”
“The Master has need of it,” Thomas said, breathing hard, as he remembered what Jesus told them to say.
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?” The man crossed the street and resumed talking with his friends as the two disciples led the uncooperative colt down the road.
“Can you believe it?” Bartholomew asked.
“Just keep walking.”
As they returned to the place where the others were waiting, the colt, which had bucked and resisted most of the way, calmed down as Jesus walked toward him and stroked his mane. Then the animal knelt down, and Jesus sat down on his back.
“It’s time,” Jesus said. “Follow me.”
As we neared the city, I wondered why there were so many people lining the streets, but then I remembered it was near the time of Passover. As Jesus rode the donkey down the middle of the main road toward the temple, the crowds went positively wild and laid palm branches and even their own cloaks down in the street for Him to travel over.
Some ran ahead and some followed, but they all shouted and cried.
“Hosanna!”
“Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!”
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
As we neared the courtyards of the temple, the upper ledge was lined with the royalty of the Jewish priesthood, along with members of the Sanhedrin, elders, and teachers of the Law. I flew up and stood with them to see how it looked from their perspective and what they would do about the ruckus Jesus was causing down below.
“What more proof do we need?” asked one of the priests.
“Listen to the people worship Him,” said another.
“It’s clear He’s guilty of blasphemy. He’s leading the people into sin,” answered an expert in the Law. “But it could be worse than you think.”
“What could be worse than we think?”
The stern voice was that of Caiaphas, who’d joined the assembly to witness the celebration below, and he wasn’t alone. Reywal was right beside him.
The lawyer bowed slightly to the high priest.
“Your Lordship, what you see happening looks a lot like Jesus is fulfilling the words of the prophet Zechariah. To wit:
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!
Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!
See, your king comes to you,
righteous and having salvation,
lowly and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
“Caiaphas,” asked the old priest, “could it be?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Caiaphas snapped back. Then he called out to Jesus.
“Teacher! If you care anything about Your followers, tell them to be quiet. You are causing them to sin by allowing them to praise You as if You were God.”
“If these people were to be silent,” Jesus answered back, “the rocks and the stones would cry out.”
I tell you, the crowds were unstoppable after that. And the disciples—they were acting like heroes as the people threw flowers at them and tried to touch them because they were with Jesus. Everyone, that is, except for Judas. He pushed the people away as they came near him and seemed thoroughly annoyed with the whole thing. The next thing I knew, Reywal was standing right beside him.
Now I know what I should have done. I should have immediately hurried over to hear what Reywal was whispering into Judas’s ear. But I simply couldn’t let the opportunity be lost. Under the cover of the chaos and jubilation, I flew down and ever so carefully sat behind Jesus on the donkey. As the praises of the people poured forth, I imagined that this was how it was going to be for me. Someday, somehow, I would be part of the triumphant entry with Jesus when He returned to heaven. He would tell everyone how He’d brought salvation for the Jews and justice to the oppressed and how He had set right what had unjustly happened to me. Everyone would be so glad to see me back where I should have been all along.
By the time I reentered reality, I was sitting on the colt alone. Jesus and the disciples had gone to Bethany to spend the night.
Early the next morning, Jesus woke the Twelve and told them to follow Him back to Jerusalem. They were excited to go, hoping they would experience a repeat of the adoring crowds from the day before. Soon it became clear we were headed to the temple. The grounds were crowded with people from everywhere making arrangements for their yearly sacrifice. When they heard Jesus was there, many pointed or called out to Him, but there was no parade like the day before.
I should have known something was up when Jesus didn’t stop to chat with them like He usually did.
“Where is He going in such a hurry?” Thaddeus asked Peter.
“I don’t know; try to keep up.”
Jesus walked straight inside the courtyard of the Gentiles, where the moneychangers were busy at their trade.
“Did you bring anything for the sacrifice?” John asked Peter.
“I didn’t know we were coming,” Peter answered, patting his pockets. “Tell Judas. He’s the treasurer.”
“Come with me. You know how tight he is with a denarius.”
The two went off in search of Judas while Jesus and I stayed watching a transaction at one of the changing tables. Jesus had an odd look on His face. I didn’t know if He was angry or confused.
Probably confused. He might not be aware of how the business of sacrifice has changed over the years. Maybe I should bring Him up to date.
“You see, Jesus, it’s not like it used to be when Your Father set the system up. Back then the worshiper came to the temple and brought the choice part of whatever he produced as a sacrifice. As long as it was his best, his best was good enough.”
Jesus went around to the other end of the table and continued watching.
“After the temple was built and the sacrifice became more ritualized, things started to change. Certain of the priests figured out there’s real money to be made in organized religion. Suddenly the best lamb a shepherd had wasn’t good enough—
spotless
took on a whole new definition.”
Jesus stepped back a short distance to allow a young couple to get in line to present their sacrifice.
“Anyway, as I was saying, specialty farming sprang up, and the raising of purebred animals for temple sacrifice became a big business. Pretty soon, only those animals were acceptable. When a person comes in with say, a dove—like that young couple there—no matter how good the dove might look, it will never be good enough. So they have to change it here in the courtyard of the Gentiles, upgrade so to speak, and always at a hefty price, to get a dove that is good enough for a temple offering.”
“What do you have for the sacrifice?” asked a shady looking character of the young couple standing before him.
“This dove,” the young man answered. “I’ve raised it myself. As you can see, it doesn’t have any blemishes.”
The moneychanger grabbed the dove from the man’s hands so hard he broke one of the feathers on its wing.
“What’s this?” he demanded. “This dove is crippled; it’s completely unsuitable.”
“You did that,” cried the wife. “It was perfect; you damaged it.”
“It’s obvious you tried to sneak through a defective dove.”
“Look what you’ve done,” said the husband. “We’ve come all this way in obedience to the Law, and now our sacrifice is ruined.”
“Tell you what I can do,” said the moneychanger. “I can sell you a perfect dove: ten silver coins.”
“Where would we get that kind of money?” The wife was near tears, while her husband appeared ready to fight.
“All right, call me a soft touch. Here’s the best deal you’re going to get. I’ll take the damaged bird off your hands and trade you one suitable for the sacrifice for, say…” He paused and looked them over. “How much do you have?”
The young man searched through his pockets as his wife rummaged through the basket she was carrying. They managed to find one silver and several lesser-valued coins. He held them out to the moneychanger.
“This is all we have.”
The deal was made, and the couple was allowed to pass through with their sacrifice. The moneychanger put the damaged dove into a cage, then turned back to his table, where he arranged his stack of coins and chuckled to himself at how clever he was.
“See what I mean?” I said to Jesus. “And that’s not all. You should see the extortion that goes on when it’s time to pay the temple tax. The people have to bring their currency here and exchange it at exorbitant prices to the coin of the realm. Where are you going?”
Jesus was headed straight to the moneychanger’s table. The shadow of someone standing in front of him interrupted the man counting.
“What do you have for a sacrifice?” he asked without looking up.
No answer.
“I haven’t got all day; what animal did you bring?”
No answer.
“I said…” Annoyed, he looked up into the face of Jesus. “I, uh, I’m sure I can help You out. Where’s Your sacrifice?”
“I AM,” Jesus said.
Then with no warning, Jesus turned the table over, scattering coins everywhere. The table fell against the dove cage, causing the latch to open. Birds went flying all over the courtyard.
“What do You think You’re doing?” the man yelled as he scrambled to pick up the money and tried to coax the birds back into the cage.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” The other moneychangers came running over.
From under His cloak, Jesus pulled out a whip. I know; hard to imagine, isn’t it—Son of God, whip in hand? Well, then He cracked it in the air, bringing everyone to a halt. Even I was looking for a place to hide. The disciples were across the plaza bargaining for fruit with the money they got from Judas when they heard the commotion and looked around for Jesus.
“He’s over there,” Peter called out as they all rushed toward Him.
Another crack of the whip stopped them in their tracks.
“Do not tell me He has a whip in His hand,” Thaddeus exclaimed.
“That is definitely a whip,” James answered.
“Where did He get it?”
“Master.” Peter was breathless. “What’s happening? What are You doing?”
“My Father’s house shall be called a house of prayer!” Jesus was almost yelling at the frightened moneychangers. They huddled together as He cracked the whip again and turned over all the other counting tables. “But you have made it a den of thieves.”
It was chaos after that. People ran over themselves and into each other as they tried to pick up the scattered coins and keep more of the animals from escaping while they scurried to get out of Jesus’ way. It went on like that until every one of the vendors had been run out of the courtyard. Jesus stood in the center by Himself as onlookers gathered a safe distance away. The disciples didn’t know what to do, and I myself was a nervous wreck. I found a bench that Jesus missed with His whip, so I lay down on it to calm down. Peter and John motioned the people to be on about their business.
“Nothing to see here; show’s over.”
“Move along.”
I don’t know if Jesus led the disciples out or the disciples led Jesus out, but they were soon safely outside the courtyard gate. I got up to go with them but was still shaky, so I lay back down instead. Not since the day Lucifer was thrown out of heaven had I ever seen Adonai angry; miffed, yes, but nothing like this. I’d seen Satan angry hundreds of times, and while I’d been afraid at each of them, this was different. The wrath of Satan was a bad day at the beach compared to the righteous wrath of God. There was no doubt in my mind the moneychangers had cheated their last pilgrim. As I started off in search of Jesus and the disciples, I found myself thinking about Caiaphas.
I wonder how long it will take for the news about what Jesus did to reach him.
