The Redeemer (29 page)

Pilate looked up from his papers.

“Did you say He’s a Galilean?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point.”

“I’m afraid it
is
the point. He’s under Herod’s jurisdiction. We’re done here.”

Pilate stood up and signaled the guards to show his guests out.

“You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.” Caiaphas rebuffed the guard’s hand on his arm and leaned hard on Pilate’s desk.

“Don’t play games with me, Caiaphas. Who is He, and what is it you really want?”

“I told you, He’s a threat to Rome.”

When Pilate didn’t respond, Caiaphas continued.

“I—we—want Him crucified.”

Pilate tried to maintain a stoic face but failed entirely. He burst into laughter.

“I thought you were serious. Get out of my office. Take Him to Herod.”

Herod was more than excited to see Jesus; he was also terrified. Feeling insecure, he overdressed for the occasion, complete with crown and scepter. At first I wondered why, but when I saw the contrast between him and Jesus, who arrived battered, barefoot, and tied up, I figured it out. Herod remembered how the wise men had told his father, who was king when Jesus was born, how they were looking for the King of the Jews. He wanted Jesus to see that who was king and who was not. In Herod’s world, whoever had the crown was the king.

“Are You the famous Jesus Christ?” Herod asked as he looked Jesus up and down.

Jesus said nothing.

Herod circled Him suspiciously. Then he got close to Jesus’ face and whispered.

“John?”

“For crying out loud,” Caiaphas complained. “Get over it; John is dead. This is Jesus of Nazareth.”

“The miracle maker?”

“No, the troublemaker.”

“Funny,” Herod said to Jesus. “I thought You’d be taller.”

Jesus didn’t reply.

“You’ve made quite an impression around here—healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind. I’ve heard You’ve raised the dead. Is it true?”

Caiaphas rolled his eyes. Herod continued his interrogation.

“I understand You’re God.”

The chief priests and teachers of the Law squirmed.

“He’s a heretic and a madman,” Caiaphas blurted out. “Don’t encourage Him.”

“Jesus, I want You to understand that
I
am the king of the Jews— and You are not. Are we clear on that?”

Herod stood in front of Jesus and put his over-jeweled hands on his fat hips.

“Now, here’s my offer. If You want to be God, go right ahead. Prove it. Do something God-like, and I’ll let You go.”

“Herod!” Caiaphas shouted.

Herod held up his hand to silence the high priest.

“Do me a miracle, anything at all; I’m not fussy. I’m always looking for new talent. Turn that water into wine,” Herod said, pointing toward a jar on the table. “Show me one little thing to prove You’re God, and I can get You the high priest’s job if You want it.”

Caiaphas looked as if he might explode. Jesus, on the other hand, showed no emotion at all.

“You’re nothing but a fraud,” Herod yelled in frustration at not being able to make Jesus answer. “Take Him back to Pilate.”

The anxiety level was running pretty high among all the priests and teachers by the time they arrived back in Pilate’s courtyard. Pilate had not been expecting them to return. He scowled at Caiaphas and shook his head at Jesus.

“Why are you back here? This is Herod’s problem.”

“Herod has adjudicated jurisdiction to you.”

“You brought me this man as one who was inciting the people to rebellion. I have examined Him in your presence and have found no basis for your charges against Him, and obviously neither has Herod.”

“You have a duty to Caesar.”

Pilate walked over to Jesus and put his hand under His chin and lifted His face.

“What have You done to make them so afraid of You?”

Caiaphas and the other priests were outraged.

“We do not fear this criminal,” they shouted.

“Clearly you do, but why? Look at Him. He’s no threat to anyone. He may be misguided, maybe has religious identity issues, but that’s not against the law. All of you Jews are like that; you all think you’re special, better than everybody else. You’ve shown me no evidence to prove He’s guilty of anything.”

“This man claimed to be God!” Caiaphas answered back.

“Lunacy is not illegal.”

“Pilate.” Caiaphas’ face was red and sweating. “Do your duty. He’s a heretic.”

“Now I see,” Pilate retorted. “This isn’t about Caesar at all, is it? It’s one of your ridiculous religious arguments, isn’t it?”

I believe Pilate might have released Jesus right then if two things hadn’t happened at the same time. First, Caiaphas threatened to report him to Tiberius, and then Satan appeared on the porch and began talking to Pilate.

“If you lose face with the Jews again, it’s the end of your career,” Satan whispered. “You can’t let Jesus go, but you can’t crucify Him either. Flog Him for disturbing the peace. Tell the soldiers to do their worst. Forty lashes with the whips with the jagged rock attached to the ends—He won’t survive it. Caiaphas will get what he wants, and you can’t be accused of a miscarriage of justice.”

“Do your duty, Pilate,” Caiaphas ordered him again.

“Pilate, remember what your wife said,” I urged him. “Have nothing to do with this man. Let Him go.”

Pilate’s face showed all the stress of one torn between a bad decision and a worse one.

“I find no basis for punishment in this man, but to satisfy your bloodlust, I shall have Him flogged.” Pilate shouted to his soldiers. “Take Him away.”

The crowd followed the soldiers as they led Jesus to a place near the prison. I stayed until they hung Him by His arms and stripped away His clothes. I couldn’t bear to watch anymore. As I turned around to leave, I ran right into Judas, standing at the edge of the throng with a moneybag in his hand. He was distraught beyond words as he watched them flog Jesus. I couldn’t make myself look back, but I did look up when I heard Judas call out to someone.

“Caiaphas, I have to talk to you.”

The high priest couldn’t watch the flogging either and was headed back toward his palace. Judas grabbed him by the arm.

“I didn’t agree to this. Look at Him,” Judas was frantic. “They’re going to kill Him.”

“Get out of my way,” Caiaphas snarled as he pushed Judas aside.

“This is not what I wanted to happen. You said you were going to arrest Him, make Him confess to heresy—that’s all.”

“Don’t bore me with your fake remorse. You’ve got your money; leave me alone.”

“Here, take it back!” Judas tried to shove the moneybag into the high priest’s hands. “I don’t want your blood money. You planned to kill Him all along. You tricked me.”

All at once Satan appeared by Caiaphas’s side and put his claw hand on his shoulder. From the look on Judas’s face, I knew he could see the prince of evil.

“He didn’t trick you, Judas,” Satan laughed. “I did. Now go kill yourself, you pitiful fool.”

“AAAGH! Get away from me!” Judas screamed in terror and stumbled backward, then turned and fled away.

Satan looked at me, and I didn’t know if I should say something or remain quiet. I folded my wings and stared at the ground.

“See how I have everything under control?” Satan said as he kissed Caiaphas on the cheek, patted him on the back, and said mockingly, “Run along now. I won’t be needing you anymore.” If Caiaphas was aware of Satan, he didn’t show it as he gathered his robes and hurried away.

“Come with me,” Satan said as he grabbed me by the wing.

“Where are we going, sir?”

“To make sure the Roman soldiers do their job—kill Jesus.”

I froze and could not take another step.

“No, no, that can’t happen. I heard the orders; flog Him, nothing more.”

“Are you really so stupid? No one survives a Roman flogging. It’s a killing sport for them.” He pulled on my wing. “Let’s go.”

“I can’t, sir.” I resisted the best I dared.

“I wasn’t making a request.” He dragged me along behind him back to the place where the flogging was taking place. I scrunched my eyes closed as I heard the sounds of the whips slash His bare skin.

“Thirty-eight.”
Slash.

“Thirty-nine.”
Slash.

“Forty.”
Slash.
A deep moaning came from Jesus.

One of the soldiers cut the ropes that bound Him. His limp body fell to the ground.

“He’s done,” the soldier called back to the others. But Satan wasn’t so sure.

“Wait a minute,” he shouted to the soldiers. “Make certain He’s dead.”

“Wait a minute.” The captain echoed Satan’s directive. “Better make sure He’s dead.”

Two of the soldiers shrugged and went back to where they’d dropped His body and lifted Jesus to His feet, then let go of Him. To the amazement of the crowd, the soldiers, Satan, and me, Jesus stood by Himself.

“He isn’t dead,” Satan yelled. “Whip Him some more. Kill Him!”

“He’s still alive,” one of them said. “What do we do with Him now?”

“Take Him back to Pilate, I guess,” said the other.

“NOOO!” Satan screamed as he raced to Jesus and looked into the bloody face of the Son of God. “Die! Die! This is as far as You go. I won’t allow it!”

Jesus looked up at Satan through the blood that streamed down His battered face. No one else heard what He said to the frantic archangel, but I did.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

C
HAPTER 34

O
NE OF THE
soldiers threw a purple robe over Jesus’ shoulders and dragged Him back to Pilate’s courtyard. A messenger ran to Caiaphas’s house to tell him Jesus was still alive. As the news spread that Jesus had survived the flogging, curiosity seekers began pouring in to see if there would be a showdown between Caiaphas and Pilate.

“They’re back,” Pilate’s servant said as he sat a cup of water on his desk.

“Don’t tell me,” Pilate got up and walked out on his balcony to survey the gathering tempest below. “So the King of the Jews lives. Maybe He is God.” Pausing long enough to drink the water, he headed down to meet them. “Caiaphas can’t be far behind.”

Like a perfect storm, Satan, Caiaphas, and Pilate arrived at the same time on the porch. Jesus stood alone before them, barely alive but alive nonetheless. Some of the women turned away from the bloody sight He was.

“This was a waste of time. Order His crucifixion,” Caiaphas hissed at Pilate.

“Don’t do it,” Satan hissed louder. “It’s a religious fight, Pilate. Rome has no jurisdiction concerning the religion of the Jews. If you kill Him, you’re guilty of murder. You’ll be demoted—humiliated again. Remember how it was the last time?”

“What can I do?” Pilate asked in a low voice.

“Get this over with,” Caiaphas warned, “before it turns into a circus.”

“It’s the time of their holy days,” Satan said. “You can release a prisoner to them. Release Jesus.”

Pilate raised his hand for quiet from the crowd.

“In keeping with the generosity of Rome, I can release a prisoner to you during your holy days. Whom will you have—this man, Jesus, or Barabbas, a known insurrectionist and murderer?”

“No,” Satan hissed again. “Don’t give them a choice.”

“Give us Barabbas,” Caiaphas yelled, loud enough for the crowd to hear.

“Give us Barabbas,” the crowd yelled back.

Who are these people? I don’t recognize any of them as followers of Jesus.

“Then what shall I do with Jesus?” Pilate asked.

“Crucify Him!” Caiaphas said loudly.

“Crucify Him!” the crowd said in unison.

“NOOO,” Satan yelled at Pilate.

“You want me to crucify your King?” Pilate called out all the louder at the crowd.

“We have no king but Caesar!”

Definitely not the followers of Jesus. Probably not real Jews either.

Pilate was agitated, afraid, and angry as he walked down to confront Jesus face-to-face. Satan went with him.

“Talk to me, Jesus. Who are You?”

Jesus said nothing.

“Do You understand the trouble You’re in? I have Your life in my hands.”