The Expected One (41 page)

Jairus’ position in the community was a unique one. He was a Pharisee and a leader in the Temple, but he was also the special envoy to the procurator. As such he met weekly with Pontius Pilate to discuss the affairs of Rome as they related to a smooth and peaceful relationship with the Temple and the Jerusalem Jews.

Jairus had developed a bond with Pilate, and the two of them would argue politics for hours at a time. Rachel, the wife of Jairus, accompanied him to the Fortress Antonia and spent these hours with Pilate’s wife, Claudia Procula. The friendship between Rachel and Claudia grew despite their innate differences. Claudia was a Roman woman of immense stature in her own right. Not only was she the wife of the procurator of Palestine, she was the granddaughter of one Caesar and the favored foster daughter of another. In contrast, Rachel was a Jewish woman from one of Israel’s noble families. But these women of differing backgrounds came together in their commonality as wives of powerful men and, most of all, as mothers.

Rachel’s daugher Smedia came often to the Fortress Antonia with her mother. Smedia loved to play in the elegant rooms, and as the girl got older Claudia allowed her access to her lotions and cosmetics. At twelve, she was on the way to developing into a beautiful young woman.

Claudia held a special warmth for Smedia as the girl had been a kind playmate to her own child, Pilo. The seven-year-old son of Pontius Pilate and Claudia Procula, Pilo was a mystery to most of Jerusalem. There were few who were even aware that Pilate had a son. The deformity of Pilo’s twisted left leg limited his activity and he was confined to the fortress. Pilate did not announce his son to the world as he knew this boy would never grow into a soldier; he would never follow in his father’s footsteps as a procurator of Rome. A child born into such obvious displeasure of the gods was a bad omen.

But Claudia saw a side of Pilate that others did not. She knew how he wept for the boy in those darkest hours when he thought no one could see or hear. Pilate had spent half of their fortune on expensive doctors from Greece, limb straighteners from India, and healers of every description. Each of these sessions ended with Pilo in tears of pain and frustration. Claudia held the boy as he sobbed himself to sleep; his father stormed out of the fortress for long hours and stayed away from both of them each time this happened.

Young Smedia had infinite patience with the boy, and she would sit with him for hours, telling him stories and singing him songs. Claudia smiled to herself as she watched them out of the corner of her eye while working on embroidery with Rachel. What would Pilate say if he heard his child singing in Hebrew? But Pilate was rarely here in her quarters, and she knew they would not have to worry about such a thing.

It was on one of these visits that Claudia Procula first heard of Easa, the Nazarene. Rachel was positively enamored of this man and his deeds. She regaled Claudia with the stories of Easa’s healings and his miracles. Rachel’s husband, Jairus, would not allow her to rhapsodize of the Nazarene — he was considered something of an adversary of Jonathan Annas and Caiaphas. Those men considered Easa to be a renegade who was disrespectful of Temple authority. Jairus could not be seen to have anything to do with this man.

And yet Jairus’ cousin, Judas, was now one of Easa’s elect followers. This was sometimes awkward for Jairus, but so far he was balancing it very well. And Rachel was delighted as she now had more firsthand accounts of Nazarene miracles.

“You should take Pilo to see this Easa,” Rachel said one day.

Claudia’s eyes grew cloudy with regret. “How can I? My husband would never allow us to be seen in the company of a traveling Nazarene preacher. It would be unseemly.”

Rachel did not mention it again out of sensitivity to her friend. But Claudia never stopped thinking about it. Then Smedia was struck with the terrible wasting fever, and it was only a few days later that Pilo fell ill with it as well.

The mourning throngs were already crowded around the city home of Jairus. Families attached to the Temple and the many citizens of Jerusalem who had been touched by Jairus and Rachel came out to show support. Smedia, their beloved daughter, was dead.

Judas pushed through the crowd, moving urgently toward the home of his cousin. Easa and Mary followed close behind him, Easa grasping her hand tightly so as not to lose his diminutive wife in the crowd. Andrew and Peter followed behind them as extra protection. It was obvious to the arriving Nazarenes that the child had succumbed to her fever, but they were not deterred. They pressed on and into the house of Jairus.

At the Fortress Antonia, Pontius Pilate and Claudia Procula had been given a death sentence for their only child. The doctors had given up. There was no more they could do for the child; besides, wasn’t he weak to begin with? Pontius Pilate left the room without a word and closeted himself for the rest of the night with his stoic philosophers. He had to come to terms with this loss in his own Roman way.

Claudia was left alone with the withering Pilo. She held him in his bed and cried softly that her sweet, brave boy was dying. This was how the Greek slave found her mistress as he entered the room.

“My poor boy is leaving us,” Claudia said softly. “What will we do? What will I do without him?”

The slave rushed to the side of his mistress. “My Lady, I come bearing news from the home of Rachel and Jairus. These are tidings of great sadness, but perhaps they are draped in greater hope. The lovely Smedia has died.”

“No!” Claudia cried. Certainly this was all too much to bear. What justice was there when such a beautiful girl as Rachel’s daughter had departed the world, perhaps on the same night as her beloved son?

“But wait, Lady, for there is more. Rachel bid me tell you that the Nazarene healer, Easa, will come to their home tonight. Even if it is too late for Smedia, it may not be too late for Pilo.”

Claudia had little time to consider the consequences. Pilo was clearly on his last breaths. “Bundle him up. Let’s get him to the chariot. Quickly, please go quickly.”

The Greek, who was also a tutor for the boy and loved him greatly, wrapped Pilo gently and carried him to the chariot, with Claudia running behind them. She did not stop to leave word with Pilate, but didn’t think he would notice she was gone. Besides, she was perfectly capable of making such an important decision on her own. Wasn’t she herself the granddaughter of a Caesar?

Pilo held on, still breathing as the Greek and his mother held him. Claudia was heavily veiled, not wanting to appear obviously imperial upon arriving at the home of a Jewish family in mourning. The Greek slave drove the chariot as far as he could take it in the crowd, then abandoned it to help his mistress and the child make their way through the mass of people. It was difficult. Beyond the mourners, word had spread that the miracle-working messiah from Galilee was on his way, and the streets were filling with the curious as well as the faithful. But the little party from the Fortress Antonia was determined, and pushed until they reached the vestibule door.

“We would see Rachel, the wife of Jairus,” the Greek slave announced. “Please tell Rachel that it is her dear friend, Claudia.”

The door opened, but they were not readily admitted. Judas stood guard at the inside door. He told the exterior guard that no observers would be allowed in the room until Easa had left. Judas wanted no witnesses, and this was for Easa’s protection. Jairus was a Pharisee, and there were others from the Temple surrounding the house waiting to see what would transpire — others who were not friendly to the Nazarene mission. If Easa was unable to raise Smedia, they would condemn him as a fake. If he was successful in his efforts, they could claim witchcraft or trickery of some sort, a charge that would damage not only Easa but Jairus — and an eyewitness account of such a charge by a Pharisee with an agenda could carry a death penalty. The safest course of action was to keep witnesses out of the room, other than the immediate family.

Claudia Procula heard only Judas’ curt “No visitors yet” instruction. But as the door opened, she had a glimpse of the activity in the room. She saw Smedia on her deathbed, white and lifeless in the thick incense. Rachel sat at her side, holding the still hand of her child, head bowed in surrender to excruciating grief. A woman in the red veil of a Nazarene priestess stood beside Rachel, a tower of strength and compassion in the tragic setting. Jairus, a man Claudia had known as proud and strong, was collapsed in a heap on the floor at the feet of Easa the Nazarene. He was begging the Nazarene to heal his daughter.

Later, when everything from that night had settled, Claudia spoke of her first vision of Easa. “I have never felt like that before,” she said. “Seeing him filled me with a sense of calm, as though I was in the presence of love and light itself. Even in that brief moment, I knew what he was — that he was more than human, that we were all blessed for eternity to be in his presence even for those few seconds.”

The door did not close as Claudia had anticipated. Judas was attending to the grief-stricken Jairus, and the external guard was too fascinated by the proceedings to be effective. Claudia watched with utter fascination as Easa moved to the side of the bed. He looked at the woman in red, who Claudia would learn later was his wife, Mary Magdalene, then put his hands on Rachel’s shoulders. He whispered something into her ear that no one else could hear, but for the first time Rachel lifted her head. Then Easa bent over the child and kissed her forehead. He took Smedia’s hand in both of his and closed his eyes to pray. After a long and silent minute when no one in the room took a breath, Easa turned to Smedia and said, “Arise, child.”

Claudia did not recall everything that happened next. It was like a strange dream that is never remembered quite the same way twice. The child, Smedia, stirred very slowly at first, but then sat up and cried for her mother. Rachel and Jairus screamed as they ran to embrace their daughter. At some stage Claudia fell to her knees, just as the crowd surged forward. There was chaos from the mob around the house. There were cheers as followers of the Nazarene and friends of the family celebrated the miracle of Smedia’s resurrection. But there were jeers and hisses as well, from Pharisees and opponents of the Nazarene who yelled out his blasphemy and called him a black magician.

Claudia was in a panic. She and the Greek had been pushed out of the doorway and were being carried away by the surging crowd. Pilo was desperately ill, and she knew he might die here on the steps of Jairus’ house. It had been risky, even cruel, to bring Pilo out here when he could have drawn his last breaths in the comfort of his own bed. And now it looked futile. The Nazarene was being ushered out by his followers, and Claudia could not reach him.

But as all hope was draining from Claudia, she saw Mary Magdalene stop in the crowd. Something happened between the two of them then, the mystical communication between mothers in difficult times. Their eyes locked for a long moment, and then Mary’s gaze moved to the child in the Greek’s arms. Silently, Mary placed her hand on Easa’s shoulder. He stopped, turning to see what Mary was asking of him. Easa’s eyes met Claudia’s for a brief moment and he smiled at her then, an expression of pure hope and light. Claudia was never able to say how long this lasted as she was distracted by the voice of her son shouting for her.