I suppose that if I was sure Jesus was the Messiah, I might not worry so much because I could be confident that Annas and Caiaphas will continue to fail when they try to kill Jesus. But Jesus’ own words have stopped me from being too confident about that. You see, since my secret visit to Jesus, I’ve listened to him many times, mostly when he teaches in the temple during the annual feasts. The rest of the time, he travels around a lot: mostly in Galilee, where he
comes from, but also in Judea, and once he even went through Samaria and taught the crowds in Sychar. I’ve heard that occasionally he’s gone still further afield to places like Tyre and Sidon and Caesarea Philippi too, but he seems to visit those areas to avoid fame rather than to court it. I have no doubt that he could raise a rebellion if he wanted to, but instead, it seems that as soon as he’s becoming very popular in one place, he moves somewhere else. It doesn’t
fit the picture of a man who wants to become a popular leader and sweep all opposition before him. Leaders like that generally choose one specific area and do all they can to develop their popularity there, in the hope that the rest of the country will follow them based on hearsay.
Is he trying to gradually build up support all over the country instead, so that he can suddenly lead the entire nation against the Romans? I know that’s what the chief priests are worried about.
“Worried!” It sounds so silly – after all, the nation as a whole has been wishing for freedom ever since we lost it to the Romans a hundred years ago. Why would the chief priests be worried about such an uprising unless it would unravel all their cosy and comfortable arrangements with the Romans? But if Jesus does lead a revolt, I’m sure of one thing – the chief priests will lose their positions of importance whether he wins or loses. If the Romans were to win, they would
replace the leaders because they had failed to keep the populace under control, and if Jesus won he would never allow them any power.
Yes, I’m certain that if a big uprising occurs, our leaders will lose their power whoever comes out on top. And I know that they’re worried sick by that possibility. What they don’t seem to recognise is that they’re pursuing the wrong enemy. Jesus’ teachings don’t foment rebellion. Rebellions are about demanding rights, and Jesus’ teachings aren’t about rights – they’re about personal obedience and humility.
If they kill Jesus in an attempt to prevent a revolution, I’m certain there will be one within 50 years anyway. In fact, far from removing the danger, getting rid of Jesus will increase it, so (if only they could see it) the only hope of avoiding a rebellion is to allow Jesus to continue with his teaching!
Meanwhile, I’m still trying to answer the question: should I follow him? Should I become one of his disciples, following him around, listening to his wonderful teaching and seeing his amazing miracles? I would like to be able to say that I’m not completely convinced yet, but maybe I’m just too scared of what it might cost me.
Where would it lead me – and what is Jesus doing anyway? I’m beginning to see a picture about Jesus that doesn’t look encouraging at all.
It started when Jesus drove all of the traders out of the temple. Of course, I’ve always had my doubts about how the religious elite – and I suppose that includes me – make so much money from the pious people who come to worship. I don’t get involved, but I know that the leaders play all sorts of tricks so that they can reject any offerings the worshippers bring with them and then force them to pay grossly inflated prices for new animals to sacrifice. Well, Jesus’ actions were
a direct attack on that unscrupulous scheming. We asked him what justification he could show us for what he’d done. His answer was, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” We all assumed that he was talking about the temple that the Herods have been upgrading for so long, and which still isn’t finished. But now, I’m starting to wonder.
Other things he has said worry me too – for example, “While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”[1] Those words suggest that he might not be here for long.
Then there was, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”[2] Lays down his life? What is symbolic and what is literal in this statement? He also said: “I lay down my life for the sheep”[3] and “the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.”[4]
I’m not comfortable with how often he talks about dying, and I don’t know how literally we’re meant to take it all.
It’s hard to be sure with some of the things he says. I heard a report from Galilee that he turned a few loaves into enough food to feed a massive crowd, and then the next day he talked about people eating his body and drinking his blood.[5] I certainly hope that isn’t meant to be literal, because it’s completely contrary to God’s rules, both in the law and earlier – even back to the time of Noah.
Just imagine if I became a disciple and then he was killed and it all came to nothing! I would lose my job, my fame, my authority, and eventually all my possessions – and for nothing. I need to be completely sure that won’t happen before I make any decisions!
So still I watch and wait. I haven’t joined Jesus’ disciples, but nor can I truly embrace a group that hates him and is willing to twist our law in any way necessary just to condemn him.
A few months ago, at the end of the Feast of Booths, many were convinced that Jesus was a very important man of God. There wasn’t full agreement on exactly who he was, but quite a few were sure that he was the Christ, so the chief priests decided to send some officers to arrest him. You’ve got to understand the situation to realise why they were so edgy and desperate to get rid of him. Basically, the people who were suggesting that Jesus is the Christ were the truly
religious individuals in the nation. They are the citizens who consistently come to Jerusalem for the three feasts each year and do their best to obey the law in everything. Without these folk, the chief priests and other religious leaders – including myself – would be out of a job.
The supposedly educated leaders mock them as ignorant – in fact, I used to do it myself – but I’ve come to realise that these people obey the law much more than most of us. Their faith is simple, but their obedience is an example to us all. These are the individuals Jesus speaks to most, and that has convinced me that they are worth paying attention to.
Anyway, these guards were sent to arrest Jesus, but they came back without him. When they were asked why, they just said “No one ever spoke like this man!”, as if that was an answer to the question. You can picture it, I’m sure – the slow shake of the head from the guards and the look of wonder in their eyes. They genuinely felt that they couldn’t arrest him because he was too good.
Well, that terrified the Pharisees, so they started to ridicule the guards.
“Have you also been deceived?” they asked. “Have any of the authorities or the Pharisees believed in him?”
That was the perfect opportunity for me to say that I believed in him. Just a few clear and simple words – but I couldn’t do it. I was too afraid of what would happen.
I missed the split-second opportunity and the Pharisees continued, “But this crowd that does not know the law is accursed.”
And that was completely unfair. The crowd they were talking about were men and women who knew the law much better than the Pharisees who were condemning them – after all, these were the people who kept the law and loved it.
I have to admit that I’m becoming increasingly convinced that a lot of the Pharisees love power and money, nothing else. They certainly don’t love the law.
So then I couldn’t keep quiet. I asked them, “Does our law judge a man without first giving him a hearing and learning what he does?”
That made me their target, just as I had feared.
They replied, “Are you from Galilee too? Search and see that no prophet arises from Galilee.”
Yes, that’s what they said: blind, bigoted prejudice.
In some ways, I can understand why they want to exclude Galilee from the nation. I must confess that I had the same bias myself until Jesus came from there and proved me wrong. After all, the whole area is far too cosy with the Gentiles.
But somewhere there has to be an allowance for honesty. Some of our prophets did come from the area of Galilee. People who don’t want to admit that will argue about the borders of the area and whether it should depend on the tribe that they came from, and so on. However, there is one prophet that everyone accepts as having come from Galilee: Jonah. Gath-hepher is in Galilee under everyone’s definition of the area. And arguing that we should ignore him
because he went and helped the Assyrians doesn’t change the fact he was an Israelite prophet and came from Galilee.
Despite that, I didn’t say any more.
To my shame, I have to admit that I kept quiet because I was afraid. Yes, I was frightened that I would be expelled from the temple, expelled from the Sanhedrin, expelled from my special position as a teacher in Israel.
So I stopped arguing.
For almost three years I have been sure that Jesus is a prophet from God. Another prophet from Galilee. But is he the Messiah? I don’t know yet.
One of our most powerful but self-centred leaders is Joseph ben Caiaphas.
After Jesus raised one of his followers from the dead, Lazarus, a man from a family that I know well, Caiaphas said to us, “it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.”[6]
I’m afraid that his words may be prophetic – and that he will personally make sure that Jesus is the one who dies for the nation.
What should I do?
I haven’t gone back to see Jesus privately again because I think it’s too risky. At times, I’ve tried to defend him, but I’ve always been careful. Maybe cowardly.
Be that all as it may, Passover is coming next week and I’ve decided to wait until it is over before I make any more decisions about following Jesus.