When Jesus Wept (25 page)

Jesus took my arm and directed his disciples to leave us and go ahead of him into the Temple. We watched them retreat. Peniel looked over his shoulder and grinned broadly. Perhaps he was remembering this was the anniversary of his healing. He waved cheerfully and matched Peter’s gait stride for stride.

Sunlight beamed on the parapets of the vast sanctuary. A flock of mourning doves rose above us in a spiral, like the smoke of living incense.

“I love this time of day,” Jesus said quietly.

“Yes. At rest.”

“Except for the poor and the sick. The beggars at the gates. They can’t rest.”

“No.” My reply was curt. My heart was pounding in anticipation of what was to come.

“So. Where are you taking me, my dear friend?” Jesus inclined his head.

Wordlessly I led him through the streets to the pool at the Sheep Gate, where the animals of sacrifice entered the city. Outside the entrance I halted, hardly able to enter.

“My enemy is inside. Beneath the third portico.” I managed to choke the words out.

“And why did you bring me to your enemy?”

“He has no one to help him.”

“What is that to you?”

My mouth opened. Emotion constricted my throat. “I want to forget about him. I want to let go of my joy at his anguish.”

“Why have you brought me here?” Jesus asked again, more earnestly.

“I … I don’t … I can’t hold on to the past anymore. My anger. My heart filled with bitterness.”

“What is that to me?”

“Help me, Jesus. Help me let go of the sins of Bikri the thief. The liar. The man who betrayed my grandfather for money.”

“How can I do what you ask? Tell me. Say it aloud.”

“I ask you to … heal my enemy. Let him walk again.”

Jesus nodded. “You will have to enter this place of suffering with me.”

“I … can’t. I have never confronted him. Only watched him from a distance.”

“You must show me the man, Lazarus, my friend. Take me to his place.”

I knew Jesus meant for me to take an active part in this. I could not hide myself and simply hope Jesus would find Bikri out of all those who camped beside the pool.

I linked my arm with his, and together we waded in among the multitude of sick and lame who lay beneath the porticoes of Bethesda. I covered my nose against the stench.

Jesus scanned the sea of human misery displayed before us. Every space on the pavement was filled.

“He’s over there.” I lowered my voice.

“Lead on,” Jesus instructed.

I picked my way carefully through the filth and rubbish of those who waited for a healing angel to descend and stir the waters. The beggars seemed not to notice us as we wound our way toward my enemy.

And then we came upon him. He lay at our feet. He looked up at me. A vague flicker of recognition crossed his face. Did he see my grandfather reflected in my eyes? Did memory of his sin flash through his mind? He smiled slightly with decayed teeth. Then he raised his bony hand, palm up, in supplication.

His voice cracked. “Mercy, young sir. Have mercy on a poor cripple. A blessing from heaven upon you in exchange for a coin. A mite will do. Anything.”

He was an old man. Pathetic. It occurred to me that he had begged here for thirty-eight years. What would become of him if he could suddenly walk?

Jesus stepped between me and my enemy. A shaft of light beamed down on the Lord. Jesus gazed at him with pity. Studying the cripple, he then asked, “Do you want to be made well?”

The sick man seemed befuddled by the question. He gave the answer of one who had stopped hoping. “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the angel stirs the water.

When it is stirred up, while I am coming, another steps down before me.”

Jesus took in his explanation and said to him, “Rise, take up your bed and walk.”

Immediately, Bikri was made well. He sat up, picked up his mat, and walked.

My eyes widened. I gasped and stood back as Bikri raised his mat above his head and roared to his fellow inmates, “Look! Look at me! Look! I am standing! Healed. Walking!”
¹

Jesus put his arm on my shoulder, and we quickly escaped the uproar of astonishment that followed.

“How?”

“What happened?”

“Did the angel stir the waters?”

As we retreated up the street toward the Temple Mount, the quiet Sabbath morning was shattered as their cries pursued us up the incline.

At the top of the hill Jesus stopped beside the potter’s shop and turned to see what would happen next.

Carrying his mat, Bikri emerged from the entrance to the pool and was almost instantly accosted by two Pharisees on their way to the Temple.

“It’s the Sabbath! It’s not lawful for you to carry your bed.”

I plainly heard Bikri’s reply. “The man who made me well said to me, ‘Take up your bed and walk.’ I didn’t want to argue … after all—”

The Pharisees demanded, “Who made you well?”

“Who did this?”

“Who commanded you to break the Sabbath?”

“Tell us!”

Bikri shrugged and deposited his mat at the base of a pillar.

“I don’t know his name. No idea.”
²
He squinted at his bed and muttered to himself. “No one will steal it. It’s Sabbath after all. Who would pick up a beggar’s mat and walk away with it?” He laughed. “Who would want it?”

“So! He healed you on the Sabbath. Commanded you to break the Sabbath.” The Pharisee pointed his finger in the old man’s face. “If you find him, report his identity to us.” Bikri shrugged. “How much will you pay me?” Jesus and I turned away from the scene as more Pharisees joined the crowd.

When we entered the Temple courts, the disciples of Jesus waited for him on the steps near the Treasury.

“And now, my friend?” Jesus asked me as we walked.

“The leaves that blocked the sun are stripped away.”

“Yes. The sin he committed against you and your family will no longer burden you. You have chosen the better part, and now the path to eternal life is his to choose or reject.”

“I understand.” I felt an enormous weight had been lifted. “Thank you. I suppose he’ll pick up where he left off. Continue in his ways. Do just as he did when he was young.”

“And what’s that to you? What’s important is that you’ve done the right thing. In bringing me to him, you’ve let go of him. Maybe he will repent and do good, or maybe he’ll cling to his sin and do evil. If he does right, you’ve saved him from hell. If an evil man is warned and doesn’t repent, then his blood isn’t on your hands.” Jesus raised his chin and fixed his gaze inside the Temple gate.

Bikri entered, looking frantically around the place. Spotting Jesus, the old man ran to him. Bikri grinned at Jesus with broken teeth. “Lord! Please tell me your name! They asked me why I carried my mat on the Sabbath, and I told them you
commanded me to walk and carry my bed away. They want to know who you are … a Sabbath-breaker, they say.”

Jesus considered the man before him, then gave the warning, “See, you’ve been made well. Don’t sin again, or a worse thing will come upon you.”

I knew in the instant of hearing that Jesus was telling Bikri there would be no more chances for him to get it right. What could be worse than living as a cripple for thirty-eight years? Only one thing could be more terrifying: death and judgment.

Bikri insisted, “But what should I say to them that question me? About breaking the Sabbath and all?”

Jesus answered, “Tell them it was Jesus of Nazareth who told you to rise and walk and carry your bed on the Sabbath.”

“Ah. Jesus of Nazareth. All right, then.” Bikri did not stay to hear Jesus teach. He scuttled off to find the Pharisees who had questioned him.

I heard later that Bikri told them it was indeed Jesus of Nazareth who had broken the Sabbath by healing him. Jesus, who had commanded him to break the law when he picked up his mat.
³

I heard also that they paid him to inform on Jesus.

But what was that to me?

Because Jesus had done good for a man on the Sabbath, the religious leaders dedicated themselves to persecuting him. But the truth Jesus lived out before us was undeniable. I wanted only to grow and ripen and become more like him.

My heart was at peace that day as I listened to Jesus teach.

“… The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he sees the Father do. For whatever the Father does, the Son does … and he will show greater works than these that you may marvel. For as the Father raises the dead and gives life to them, even so the Son
gives life to whoever he will. He who does not honor the Son, doesn’t honor the Father. I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes in him who sent me has everlasting life and will not come into judgment, but has passed from death into life. The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God; and those who hear it shall live. Don’t marvel at this; for the hour is coming in which all who are in the graves will hear his voice and come forth—those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of condemnation.”
⁴

He aimed his message fiercely at the Pharisees who stood with arms crossed and fists clenched.

“I don’t receive honor from men. But I know you, that you do not have the love of God in you. I’ve come in my Father’s name, and you don’t receive me … There is one who accuses you—Moses, whom you say you trust. But if you really believed Moses, you would believe in me, because Moses wrote about me. If you don’t believe his writings, how will you believe my words?”
⁵

There was much more he taught that day that has been written down by other witnesses. These words of Jesus were guaranteed to offend the Pharisees even more than a beggar healed on the Sabbath.

After that, the religious leaders plotted all the more to kill Jesus because he said that God was his Father, making himself equal with God.

Jesus was serene in his purpose and in the truth. He saw clearly into the hearts of all people. The battle lines were drawn, but Jesus knew the end of the story.

Part Four

The scepter will not depart from Judah …

until he to whom it belongs shall come….

He will tether his donkey to a vine,

his colt to the choicest branch.

G
ENESIS 49:10–11

Chapter 24

J
esus came to stay with us again during the Feast of Dedication, which we call the Festival of Lights. It was the time of year after harvest when the vines are dormant, leafless, and unkempt. It was a cold, dark winter, and Jesus was our Light.

We all went together to the Temple to remember its desecration by the Greeks and the battles of the Maccabees to restore it. I believe this was the Jewish holiday our oppressors feared most. It was the holiday of rebellion and victory!

In every home along the route, lamps glowed in the windows facing the street. A drizzling rain chilled our faces as we climbed the steps, but we felt excitement in our hearts. When we reached the summit of Mount Moriah, the mist became flecks of snow that scudded on the wind.

Questions rang across the Temple Mount and into the halls of the mighty:

“Is Jesus of Nazareth another Judah Maccabee?”

“Will he call the people to rebel?”

“If the Maccabees defeated the Greek Empire, is it possible Jesus will rally many to defeat Rome?”

It was evening when we walked with Jesus in Solomon’s Portico. A number of Jerusalem Sparrows, orphan boys of the
city, guided us with torches. For the eight nights of the feast the Temple courts blazed with illumination. The glowing tribute to Almighty God could be seen for miles, as if the mountain were a beacon of freedom in a dark, weary world.

We circled the Temple courts in two files of worshipers. We sang with one chorus proposing and the other replying:

“Shouts of joy and victory

resound in the tents of the righteous:

‘The L
ORD’s
right hand has done mighty things!

The L
ORD’s
right hand is lifted high!’ “
¹

Jesus spoke to the boys of our forefathers and noted that most Jewish celebrations centered around freedom. Freedom from slavery. Freedom from sin. Slavery and sin were alike, were they not?

“No one can serve two masters,” Jesus told us, “for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.”
²

Two Levite choirs continued the dialogue in song:

Open for me the gates of the righteous;

I will enter and give thanks to the L
ORD.

This is the gate of the L
ORD

through which the righteous may enter.

I will give you thanks, for you answered me;

you have become my salvation.”
³

The Pharisees gathered around Jesus and began to question him:

“How long will you keep us in suspense?”

“If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.”

Jesus answered, “I told you, and you don’t believe. The works
that I do in my Father’s name bear witness about me. But you do not believe because you are not among my sheep. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I will give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”
⁴