Chapter 5 of 15
By the time we returned to the house of Caiaphas, the High Priest had assembled the council for the trial of Jesus on the charge of blasphemy for claiming to be the son of God.
The priests and the elders and the scribes were gathered in the council chamber. They began to shout questions at Jesus as soon as we led him in. Jesus was silent, which served only to make the council shout even louder. I saw that Caiaphas was growing concerned – there were no witnesses to Jesus' blasphemies at hand, and it would be difficult to condemn Jesus if he would not speak.
Finally, Caiaphas asked Jesus why he claimed to be the Son of God – and for the first time, Jesus spoke. "YOU say that I am the Son of God," he said. And once he had begun, he continued to speak, saying something about sitting at the right hand of God and something else about the clouds of heaven, but I was unable to hear his exact words over the shouts of the council members.
And then Caiaphas rose to his feet and tore his robe. "Blasphemy!" he cried, as the room grew silent. He pointed an accusing finger at Jesus. "We need not ask more questions, we have heard the blasphemy from his own lips!" He exhorted the council to condemn Jesus, telling them that Jesus had claimed to be the Son of God. I could see that some of the council members were not certain that they actually had heard Jesus blaspheme – but in the end, no one was willing to challenge the word of the High Priest, and the council quickly condemned Jesus to die.
I am ashamed to have to tell you that the council then fell on Jesus like a pack of wolves attacking a wounded lamb. They spat on him and they beat him; they blindfolded him and they mocked him as he stumbled around the chamber. Finally, they turned Jesus over to the guards, who continued to strike him as they led him away to his cell.
I can tell you, my brother, that I was sick at heart. Whatever he had done, surely Jesus was not deserving of such barbarous treatment at the hands of the council.
I fled into the courtyard, where a small crowd had gathered. None in the crowd knew me, so I was able to stroll through the courtyard without being bothered as I tried to clear my thoughts. Then, to my surprise, I recognized a man who sat off by himself in a corner of the courtyard, he was one of the disciples of Jesus whom I had seen earlier at Gethsemane. And that is when a plan sprang into my mind.
Perhaps I was sickened by the harsh treatment that Jesus had received at the hands of the council; perhaps I remembered the kindness that Jesus had shown me, even as I came to have him arrested; or perhaps I was still not thinking clearly because of my injury. But for whatever reason, the sight of the disciple waiting forlornly in the courtyard to learn of his master's fate spurred me to take action.
I knew that Jesus was to be held in a cell until he could be taken to see Pilate in the morning. But I also knew that escape was not impossible for someone who knew all of the loose stones in all of the cells, someone who was familiar with the maze of underground passages that ran between the temple and the house of the High Priest and on into the city. But I am ashamed to tell you, my brother, that although I knew the secrets of that labyrinth as well as anyone, I feared to free Jesus myself. I was afraid that I would be caught, and that my master would know that I had betrayed him. And the thought of disappointing my master was simply too much for me to bear.
But if Jesus were to be freed by someone else, no blame could fall on me. And so when I spied one of the disciples of Jesus in the courtyard, I resolved that I would draw a map and instruct him in the way that he could free his master from the cell in which he awaited his death.
I approached the disciple and quietly told him that I had seen him with Jesus – but to my surprise, before I could tell him of my plan, the man denied that he knew Jesus at all! In fact, he became so vehement in his denials that he attracted the attention of some of the others in the courtyard. They began to ridicule him, pointing out that he must know Jesus, as his dress and his speech betrayed him as a Galilean. The disciple became increasingly agitated; I could see that he feared that the crowd would do him harm. "I don't know anyone named Jesus," he finally shouted, as he jumped to his feet. "You people don't know what you're talking about!"
At that very instant, a rooster crowed from across the courtyard. For some reason, this seemed to have a profound effect on the disciple. His mouth fell open and his eyes began to dart around wildly; then he began to weep and to tear at his hair. It was such a sudden transformation that I feared that he had been seized by a demon. I reached for his arm so I could pull him aside and comfort him, but he brushed my hand away and ran from the courtyard, screaming and crying piteously.
To this day, my brother, I cannot explain why this disciple of Jesus reacted as he did to the mere crowing of a cock. But I do know that, when he bolted from the courtyard, the last chance that his master might have escaped the crucifix ran off with him.
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©2004 Henry Charles Mishkoff