Erhalten Sie Zugang zu diesem und mehr als 300000 Büchern ab EUR 5,99 monatlich.
- Herausgeber: BroadStreet Publishing Group, LLC
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
From the fate of John the Baptist to Jesus' profound teaching on inexhaustible forgiveness, in this fourth installment of The Chosen series, we grieve with Jesus' followers at an unspeakable loss, traverse with them "the extra mile," face down the Pharisees, and witness an impossible miracle. As religious leaders conspire to put an end to His ministry, His renown, and His very life, Jesus' followers wonder at His ominous parables and pronouncements. Beyond retelling the familiar accounts, Upon This Rock sees Simon become Peter and takes us to the innermost thoughts of the major players in the greatest story ever told. Based on the acclaimed TV series The Chosen, the life of Jesus gets a fresh, new telling in this novel series from New York Times bestselling author Jerry B. Jenkins.
Sie lesen das E-Book in den Legimi-Apps auf:
Seitenzahl: 370
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Das E-Book (TTS) können Sie hören im Abo „Legimi Premium” in Legimi-Apps auf:
Ähnliche
PRAISE FOR THE CHOSEN
The novels make me weep the same way Jerry’s son’s The Chosen does, which oughta keep tissue stocks rising. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Mark Lowry Singer, humorist
The novels bring the story of Jesus and his followers to life in a way never before seen. By imagining plausible back stories to well-known characters, Jerry allows us to see ourselves in them and bring our own frailties to Christ and draw closer to him. The streaming series and these novels may very well usher in a global revival of love for Christ and move us to love others as he loves us.
Terry Fator Singing ventriloquist/impressionist and winner of America’s Got Talent
If you have ever wondered what it might have been like to have been a friend or family member of the twelve disciples of Jesus, The Chosen novels, written by Jerry Jenkins, will transport you into the minds of the early followers of Christ. You will be reminded of their humanity and might even see yourself as you seek to follow the One who still radically changes lives today.
Gary D. Chapman Author of The Five Love Languages
A fictional work that expands on Bible stories is successful when it drives you back into the Word of God. And Jerry Jenkins’s novels paint a beautiful behind-the-scenes portrait of the first people whose lives were transformed by Jesus. The words chosen for poignant dialogues strike home in deep and powerful ways. Keep a tissue on hand; your heart will be moved.
Joni Eareckson Tada Joni and Friends International Disability Center
The stories of Jesus’ life and ministry in the New Testament are some of the Bible’s most encouraging and illuminating passages. Jerry Jenkins has once again provided a gripping story that will point readers back to the beauty of Christ as revealed in Scripture.
Jim Daly President and CEO of Focus on the Family
Well, Jerry Jenkins has done it again in The Chosen novel series. The depth of emotion he captures in those around Jesus only deepens our understanding of what Jesus goes through in this escalating, tension-filled period of his ministry. We were hooked on page one and left wanting more at the end. If you love watching The Chosen, this is a must read.
Al & Phil Robertson Authors & Co-hosts of The Unashamed Podcast
The Chosen novels connect me again to Jesus. And, oh, what a Savior he is!
Ernie Haase Grammy-nominated tenor and founder of Ernie Haase and Signature Sound
Writing with accuracy and immediacy, Jerry Jenkins immerses us in the greatest story ever told in a fresh and powerful way. Jenkins is a master of taking profound scenes and themes from the Bible and weaving them into captivating journeys, whether they are centered on the time of Jesus or the end times. The Chosen novels expand on the amazing TV series and will move readers through the unique retelling of the gospel story.
Travis Thrasher, bestselling author and publishing industry veteran
The only thing better than the film is the book, and the only thing better than the book is the film. Jerry B. Jenkins has taken the brilliant project of Dallas Jenkins—this look into the lives of those Jesus chose to be his followers, his friends, and his “family”—and gone a step (or more) deeper. Readers will be drawn as quickly into the pages as viewers were into the theatrical moments of The Chosen film project. I cannot say enough about both.
Eva Marie Everson, president, Word Weavers International, and bestselling author
The TV series brought me to tears, but Jerry’s book showed me the Jesus I wanted to know. He draws the reader into the humanity of Jesus. The story captures authentic insight into his personality. His love, humor, wisdom, and compassion are revealed for every person he encountered. Through Jesus’ interaction with the real-life characters, I too experienced the Savior who calls the lost, poor, needy, and forsaken into an authentic relationship.
DiAnn Mills, Christy Award winner and director, Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers Conference
Jerry Jenkins is a master storyteller who has captured the action, drama, and emotion of The Chosen TV series in written form. Far more than a mere synopsis, Jerry has shaped and developed the episodes into fast-paced novels. If you enjoyed the series, you will savor the stories again as Jerry brings each character to life. And if you haven’t watched the series, these novels will make you want to start … just as soon as you’ve finished reading the books, of course!
Dr. Charlie Dyer, professor-at-large of Bible, host of The Land and the Book radio program
The Chosen series is Jesus in present tense. The story engages the heart and allows you to experience what people see and feel and taste. Get your feet dirty with them. It will transform your present tense.
Chris Fabry, bestselling author of The War Room and the Left Behind: The Kids series
What better way to bring the gospel to life than to explore the impact Jesus had upon those with whom he came into contact. And what better encouragement for those of us today who hunger for his life-changing presence. I heartily recommend both the TV series and the books for any who long to experience his transforming love more deeply.
Bill Myers, author of the bestselling novel Eli
For over 70 years I have heard the redemptive stories of the Bible told without the emotion and passion that would indicate real people actually experienced these events. Who drained the life blood from the hearts of these men and women? Jerry Jenkins’s account is a refreshing transfusion that restores life to the people of the Bible and to its redemptive story. You will feel like you are there.
Ken Davis, award-winning author, speaker, and communication consultant
To a girl who cut her teeth on Bible stories, it’s no easy task to transform all-too-familiar characters into an experience that is fresh and alive. That is precisely what Jerry Jenkins has done with these novels. From the first chapter, I was enamored. And by the second and third, I started to see the Jesus I’ve long loved with new eyes and a more open heart. These books offer the reader more than mere diversion. They offer the possibility of true transformation.
Michele Cushatt, author of Relentless:The Unshakeable Presence of a God Who Never Leaves
The story of Jesus has been told and re-told, but with this beautiful novelization, Jerry Jenkins brings unique and compelling perspectives to the biblical accounts of Jesus and his followers, echoing those in the acclaimed The Chosen TV series created by Dallas Jenkins. As someone who always thinks the book was better than the movie, I was delighted to discover a book and film series that are equally enthralling and even life changing.
Deborah Raney, author of A Nest of Sparrows and A Vow to Cherish
Any author who has written and sold as many books as Jerry Jenkins might be forgiven a tendency to lean on familiar structure while producing yet another manuscript. Fortunately, Jenkins is not just “any author.” While the broad storyline of Jesus choosing his disciples will be familiar to some, it is the author’s deft handling of the historical language and customs of the time that give his newest release a vibrancy rarely felt by readers of any novel. These novels have been crafted with wise and insightful context. These are the books Jerry Jenkins was born to write.
Andy Andrews, New York Times bestselling author of The Traveler’s Gift, The Noticer, and Just Jones
Upon This Rock
© 2024 Jenkins Entertainment, LLC. All rights reserved.
A BroadStreet Publishing book.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of BroadStreet Publishing.
The primary source of Scripture quotations is The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. Copyright © 2001 by CrosswayBibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Editors: Leilani Squires and Michelle Winger
“The Chosen” and the “School of Fish” designs are trademarks of The Chosen, LLC, and are used with permission.
9781424567713 (hardcover)
9781424567737 (softcover)
9781424567720 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data can be found at www.loc.gov.
Printed in Malaysia
28 27 26 25 24 5 4 3 2 1
To Josh Lindstrom
Based on The Chosen, a multi-season TV show created and directed by Dallas Jenkins and written by Ryan M. Swanson, Dallas Jenkins, and Tyler Thompson.
“There’s little doubt The Chosen will become one of the most well-known and celebrated pieces of Christian media in history.” MOVIEGUIDE® Magazine
NOTE
The Chosen was created by lovers of and believers in the Bible and Jesus Christ. Our deepest desire is that you delve into the New Testament Gospels for yourself and discover Jesus.
Contents
PART 1: The Dance of Death
Chapter 1
The Name
Chapter 2
The Dance
Chapter 3
The Return
Chapter 4
Pretending
Chapter 5
Laundry Lessons
Chapter 6
Taste Test
Chapter 7
Insult upon Insult
Chapter 8
The Idea
Chapter 9
The Con
Chapter 10
The Deed
PART 2: Seventy Times Seven
Chapter 11
The Open Road
Chapter 12
News
Chapter 13
Busted
Chapter 14
Shiva on the Road
Chapter 15
Elevated
Chapter 16
The Gates of Hell
Chapter 17
The Decree
Chapter 18
The Rock
Chapter 19
Prescient
Chapter 20
Matthew’s Conundrum
Chapter 21
The Apology
Chapter 22
“It’s Time”
Chapter 23
Completion Times Completion
Chapter 24
Complicated
PART 3: Woe
Chapter 25
Gone
Chapter 26
Praetor on the Rampage
Chapter 27
Scheming Ima
Chapter 28
The Object of Value
Chapter 29
Growing Tension
Chapter 30
More Fun
Chapter 31
Panic
Chapter 32
Unspeakable
PART 4: Crushed
Chapter 33
Somber Procession
Chapter 34
The Confrontation
Chapter 35
Anticipation
Chapter 36
Red Sky
Chapter 37
The Asks
PART 5: Bitter
Chapter 38
Beyond Rubies
Chapter 39
Fracas
Chapter 40
Helmet Hair
Chapter 41
Yussif ’s Choice
Chapter 42
Old Friends
Chapter 43
Hospitality
Chapter 44
Only Human
Chapter 45
Fame and Infamy
Chapter 46
Either/Or Questions
PART 6: Battered
Chapter 47
The Abomination
Chapter 48
A Riddle?
Chapter 49
Aching
Chapter 50
Obstacles
Chapter 51
The Message
Chapter 52
The Sermon
Chapter 53
The News
PART 7: Acquainted With Grief
Chapter 54
A Treasure for All Time
Chapter 55
How Long, O Lord?
Chapter 56
Do You Believe This?
Chapter 57
The End of Shiva
Chapter 58
What a Day
Chapter 59
Shattered
Chapter 60
The Magdalene’s Musings
PART 8: The Time Has Come
Chapter 61
Spotless
Chapter 62
Spooked
Chapter 63
The Purchase
Chapter 64
A Pox
Chapter 65
The Thank You
Chapter 66
The Burial
Chapter 67
Glory
Chapter 68
King?
Chapter 69
Missing
Chapter 70
One Day at a Time
Chapter 71
Hosanna!
Acknowledgments
“…blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.”
LUKE 1:45
PART 1
The Dance of Death
Chapter 1
THE NAME
Nazareth
Young Mary still glows from the visitation. Had she heard this story rather than experienced it, she would not believe it in a million years. But the Lord Himself sends the angel Gabriel to her, a no one from nowhere, with a message so outlandish that at first it simply terrifies her.
But it is true. She, a virgin, is to bear the long-awaited Messiah, Son of the Most High God. She tells only her parents and her fiancé, who himself does not believe it until he is also visited in a dream. Almost as bizarre, the angel tells Mary that her mother’s sister, her aged Aunt Elizabeth, will also bear a son. This Mary has to see.
Nearly ninety now, Elizabeth has been barren her whole life. Though women are forbidden to travel alone, and against Joseph’s better judgment, Mary persuades her reluctant father to negotiate transport for her to the Judean hill country where Elizabeth resides with her husband Zechariah, a priest.
Mary is intrigued that even after paying the ragtag leader of a small caravan—consisting of a few meager animals—her father continues to talk earnestly with the man, no doubt impressing upon him how precious he considers this beloved cargo. At last her father helps her mount up and entrusts her small bag to the man. Mary is amused that the leader’s wife, whom he calls Tzofi, doesn’t even try to hide her curiosity.
“What was that all about?” Tzofi asks her husband.
He shrugs. “As long as people pay, we don’t ask questions.”
“It’s just that—what business would someone, like her, from Nazareth, have—”
“He asked us to be discreet.”
“Why?” Tzofi says. “And why choose us for passage?”
“As long as people pay, we don’t—”
“Sometimes when a virgin gets sent away to stay with relatives for a while, it’s because—she’s not.”
“Tzofi, don’t be crude.”
Including a night on the ground and a few brief rest stops, the ninety-mile trek takes nearly two days. Mary is largely ignored but strangely feels safe—despite that the road is widely considered dangerous. Besides the fact that Tzofi and her husband are armed and have clearly been leading caravans for a long time, Mary rests in the knowledge that God has a reason for protecting her.
The man brings the caravan to a stop, gazing at a collection of humble homes atop a rise. “Your stop, ma’am.”
Retrieving her bag, Mary thanks the couple and adds, “May God go with you on the rest of your journey.”
“God be with you,” Tzofi says.
“On the rest of your journey,” the man says, leering.
His meaning is not lost on Mary, but she doesn’t care. Her spirits remain high, close as she is to seeing her beloved aunt and uncle. Taking a deep breath, she ascends the hill.
Elizabeth hums to herself in her kitchen, working around her plump belly while deftly slicing through a block of honeycomb. She’s startled by someone calling out, “Elizabeth! Zechariah! Shalom!”
The old woman drops the knife and places a hand over her bump.
“I’m here! Elizabeth?!”
The old woman staggers backward, eyes wide.
Mary smiles and reaches to embrace her grinning uncle as he mince steps toward the door. He’s still getting around fairly well for a man in his nineties.
“Zechariah!”
But he doesn’t respond, seems agitated, fumbles for a chalkboard.
“Uncle?” she says, concerned.
He quickly writes a greeting.
“What?” she says. And here comes her aunt. “Oh, Elizabeth!”
They hug each other tight and Mary steps back, gesturing to the old woman’s belly.
Elizabeth grabs her hand. “Zach can’t talk right now. I’ll explain later.” Breathless, she leads Mary to the courtyard and they sit. Elizabeth closes her eyes and blurts, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”
“My-my womb? Wait, how did you kn—I suppose nothing should surprise me anymore. When my messenger told me about your news, I was so happy, knowing how long you’ve suffered. I want to hear all about it.”
“Something better than that is happening,” Elizabeth says, seeming to speak faster than she can think. “So humbling. Why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”
“The mother of your Lord? Did a messenger tell you about me?”
“When I heard your voice, just the sound of your greeting, my baby leapt for joy. And blessed are you who believed there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to you from Adonai.”
“So a messenger did tell you.”
“The messenger appeared to your uncle, and Zechariah said, ‘I don’t believe it.’”
Mary chuckles. “Can we slow down a moment? You’re not in a condition to be losing your breath.”
Elizabeth smiles and sighs. “The reason Zechariah could not speak with you is because he didn’t believe the message from God about me.”
“I wasn’t sure at first either,” Mary says.
“I feel bad he must go through this.” She leans close and whispers, “But I admit, sometimes I don’t mind the quiet.” They laugh, and she continues, “But he wrote down for me what was said, and I’ve memorized every word. The baby’s name will be John.”
“Wait. Not Zechariah? Why John?”
“I don’t know for certain, but perhaps because he will not be a priest like his father. Maybe he’ll walk a different path for God. A bigger one, because Zach was also told that John will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.” Elizabeth’s voice becomes thick with emotion. “To prepare the way for…” She nods at Mary’s womb, and Mary is overcome. “Oh!” Elizabeth adds, putting a hand on her own bulge. “There he goes again!” She grabs Mary’s hand and presses it to her tummy. “Feel it?”
“Yes!”
“It’s like he can’t wait to get started.”
Chapter 2
THE DANCE
Herod’s Palace, Machaerus
A teenage dancer stands barefoot, sweating in a sunlight-bathed room with floor-to-ceiling arches that open to an outdoor promenade. Her teacher, a man in his thirties, leads her through a series of moves, alternately barking and cooing commands. She strikes a pose, a hand high above her head, fingers spread and taut.
The man reaches to gently close her hand. “More feminine, more purposeful. Flip the palm. Not flat. Cupped as if to catch the rain.” He stares at her feet. “Too flat! Raise the heel. Higher! Up! Onto your toes.”
She tries.
“The moment you feel yourself start to fall, bend and swivel so your left foot catches you. No! It cannot look like an accident. You must look in control even when you aren’t! Again!”
A servant places a chair at the far end of the room. The dancer repeats the moves, faster, better. “Closer,” her instructor calls out. “Still not all the way there.”
An hour later
They’re still there. The girl is getting it. Her choreographer draws with chalk a line on the floor. “This is the last place your feet hit before the final turns, understand?” He snaps his fingers. “And go!”
She rounds off a flip and twist that leave her about five feet from the chair. “Too short! Again!” He casually slides onto the chair, playing her royal audience. “Include the instruments this time. Be precise.”
Musicians in the corner attack drums and cymbals, and he signals her again. This time she lands inches from his chair, freezes, and appears to struggle to control her breathing.
“That’s my girl.”
She looks relieved.
He guides her through a long, slow bow, urging her lower and lower, fingers up. “It’s all in the fingers. Slower. Make him wait. Make it hurt.” She raises her face, lashes heavy and flirtatious, finally giving him direct eye contact. “There! Now let’s paint your face.”
“Not yet!” comes a command from the doorway. “One more time,” Queen Herodias says. “From the top. It must be perfect.”
Chapter 3
THE RETURN
The Mission House, formerly Matthew’s home, Capernaum
Since joining Jesus’ growing band of followers, the Egyptian Tamar can’t deny the ups have outweighed the downs. After seeing Jesus heal a leper, she and her friends lowered their paralytic mate through the roof of a house in which Jesus was preaching, and the rabbi himself told her that her faith was strong and beautiful.
Tamar had soon been welcomed by the disciples and the two other women closest to Jesus—Mary of Magdala, who told of the master having exorcised seven demons from her, and Ramah, Thomas’s beloved who had served as vintner at a wedding in Cana where Jesus miraculously turned water into wine. How long has it been since Tamar has seen the beautiful youngster? Too long. Ramah had sojourned back to her father in hopes of being there when Thomas asked the man for her hand in marriage. Thomas had returned emptyhanded, and Ramah stayed behind. How Tamar missed her, despite that they had their differences.
Tamar and Ramah and Mary had found that familiarity had allowed a modicum of contempt to invade their camaraderie. Living and serving Jesus together in close proximity had unveiled misunderstandings, even petty jealousies Tamar knew were not honoring to their rabbi. So they had devoted themselves to reconciling. She and Mary had come to a warm meeting of the minds and seemed now on good footing together. Tamar knew the same would be true with Ramah because she found painful the young girl’s absence. One does not miss rivals. One misses someone she cares about.
Tamar gathers her bag and paperwork while eavesdropping on the old, retired fisherman Zebedee and his two sons, James and John, whom Jesus nicknamed the Sons of Thunder. The love among these three men is palpable—though they squabble like schoolchildren. Zebedee is so obviously proud Jesus chose his boys to follow him that he can hardly contain himself. And now that he has given up his lifelong trade, even selling his boat, to dive into an entirely new pursuit, he appears giddy to be helping finance Jesus’ ministry.
The three men are outside, and through the window Tamar watches them load onto a cart four large pithari jars full of Zebedee’s newly pressed oil. Of course they’re bickering, as it seems all men do. Tamar decides this must be their bizarre way of expressing their affection. She’s also surprised at their choice of jars, as they are of Greek origin. Most of the disciples have little positive to say about the Greeks, but it seems everyone uses their jars for one purpose or another. Even the women have found that water stored in pithari jars evaporates in sweltering weather, somehow cooling a room.
Tamar can’t help but smile as the men seem to have clear but differing ideas of how the jar packing should go. “These must not break,” Zebedee says. “Understand?”
“Yes, Abba,” James says.
“Our very first press,” Zebedee continues, “sacred first fruits, holy to Adonai.”
“But the way James has them situated,” John says, “they won’t make it to the synagogue in one piece.”
A conveyance shambles to a stop outside, but the men don’t appear to notice. It’s a wine cart driven by a woman of about thirty who must be the vigneron. But next to her… Tamar drops everything and rushes outside. “Are my eyes lying?!” she says, beaming as she helps Ramah down and they embrace.
“Shalom! Shalom!” Ramah exults, grabbing her bag and paying the driver.
“It’s so good to have you back!” Tamar says.
“I know!”
“I want to hear everything!”
The men remain oblivious and continue quarreling. “Every road is riddled with potholes,” John says. “Where does all our tax money go?”
“You mean the shekel you owed last year?” his big brother says. “Look, there’s straw between them to keep them from knocking against each other.”
“Straw won’t do us any good if they bounce out of the cart.”
Zebedee sighs. “This is not happening.”
“Strap them down,” John says.
“Oh, okay,” James says. “You’ve got rope then? I didn’t think so. We’re not fishermen anymore.”
Ramah shakes her head. “So nothing’s changed?”
“They’ve been at it since you left,” Tamar says.
Zebedee finally notices. “Ah, Ramah!” he says. “You aren’t doing anything. Come lend a hand.”
“Ramah!” James says.
John says, “When did you get here?!”
The brothers hurry to her.
“I’ve been here a while, but you were—busy.”
“Arguing like this is not good for the oil,” their father says.
James shoots him a look. “What?”
“This will be used in sacrificial offerings as a pleasing aroma to Adonai, to anoint the high priest and his sons.”
“Not if it’s seeping into the cracks of the city’s streets,” John says.
James says, “So what are we supposed to do, carry them?”
“You’ll trip!” Zebedee says.
“I’m not Andrew, Abba,” James says. “My footing is solid.”
The women wave them off with a smile and reenter the house.
Zebedee is exasperated but grateful to be working with his sons again. Even their arguing amuses him.
John says, “Your feet may be solid, but your hands are filthy.”
James looks at his hands and quickly reaches to the ground. “Rope! Ha ha!” The brothers work together tying the jars in place. James turns to Zebedee. “Abba, the blessing. They’re expecting us on the hour.”
“Ah, of course. As best as I can remember—” He closes his eyes. “‘Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who is good and bestows good. Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!’”
Zebedee releases a deep breath and smiles, opening his eyes to his sons regarding him with huge grins. “What? What are you looking at? Why are you smiling? Did I mess up the prayer?”
“It’s nothing,” James says. “It’s just—”
“The Greeks,” John says, “they put on plays—”
“We don’t talk about that sort of filth!” Zebedee says.
“Yes, I know, I’m just saying that they break up the plays into acts. And you’re starting a new act.”
Zebedee studies him. “Tragedy or comedy?”
“I guess we’re about to find out,” James says, moving to the front of the cart.
The formerly blind Shula and the formerly lame Barnaby appear. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, “but we heard Ramah was back.”
“How did you hear that?” John says.
Barnaby shrugs. “We hear everything. It’s what we do.”
“We also happen to know,” Shula says, “that if she is back, Thomas would like to meet her in a forest clearing of the Terebinth Grove.”
“He can’t be alone with her,” James says.
“Barnaby and I will chaperone.”
Barnaby nods, raising his eyebrows. Shula yanks him toward the house.
Chapter 4
PRETENDING
Machaerus Palace
Joanna once reveled in her and her husband’s exquisitely appointed quarters. She’d had what any woman would have dreamt of—marriage to a man in the upper echelon of King Herod Antipas’s most trusted advisers, with an income to match. Chuza proved loyal to the royal even through the tough times—like now, when the crazy wilderness preacher and baptizer, the infamous John, called out the king for divorcing his wife and marrying his half-brother’s divorced wife Herodias.
Herod had followed Chuza’s advice and had John the Baptizer arrested, but he refused to execute the man because he actually enjoyed hearing him preach. Joanna found herself intrigued by the vagabond preacher and covertly visited him in the dungeon beneath the palace. When she discovered her own husband too was guilty of adultery, she demanded to know from John why he had not also exposed Chuza.
In her discussions with the Baptizer, Joanna became fascinated with the man he claimed was the long-prophesied Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. She traveled a long distance to hear him preach and became a clandestine follower, supporting his ministry and even sneaking in one of his disciples—Andrew, originally a disciple of the Baptizer—to see John. Meanwhile, she all but abandoned her duplicitous husband, creeping back to their quarters for necessities only when she was sure he was away. Now she returns temporarily, only to keep up appearances by attending the king’s banquet scheduled for this evening.
She makes her way down a luxurious hallway and presses her ear to the door of their elaborate rooms. Hearing nothing, she peers in and enters. In the sumptuous boudoir, she opens a wardrobe where she riffles through a selection of elegant gowns. Vanity spurs her to look her best, but revenge nudges her toward something plainer, more sedate. No sense rewarding her wayward husband by letting him show her off.
She moves to the window at the sound of a cart pulling up. Servants unload a massive amphora of wine, a two-handled jar with a narrow neck. Others carry various lamps and torches. The door opens behind her. “Joanna?”
Her shoulders droop—the very man she doesn’t want to see until she has to. “Chuza, I’m in here.” She steps out, holding a gown. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the day.”
“A man has to explain what he’s doing in his own quarters? What are you doing here?”
“A wife has to explain what she’s doing in her own quarters?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says. “But I didn’t expect you in here. You haven’t slept here in weeks.”
“I wonder why that could be.”
He looks ready to fire back but calmly says, “Listen, I’m not here to fight. I wanted to make sure you’re fine for the banquet tonight.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“And that’s what you’re wearing? It looks great.”
“I’ll consider something else then.”
“Fine,” he says. “Let’s just be sure to have a good time, and—”
“And?”
“And nothing. Have a good time. Cooperate. Regardless how the evening goes, let’s be sure to have a good time.”
“Cooperate?” she says. “What’s this about?”
“What do you mean? I just want us to have a good t—”
“You’re not a good liar, Chuza.”
“Neither are you. We know you’ve spoken privately with the Baptizer.”
This gives her pause. “What does that have to do with anything? Wait, who sent you to talk with me?”
“I—no one—never mind. I just wanted my wife to—”
“Don’t tell me to have a good time again. You haven’t cared about that since you met Cassandra. Is Herod planning something with John?”
“No! No, he just finds him interesting. You know that.”
“Yes, and I know it would be unwise for him to do anything rash when the people consider John a prophet. Herod should be cautious.”
“I’m aware of your support for John. Just smile and pretend tonight. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Oh, I understand smiling and pretending, Chuza. I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Chapter 5
LAUNDRY LESSONS
Shore of the Sea of Galilee
Simon, the former Zealot who has been nicknamed Zee by Jesus’ disciples to differentiate him from Simon the former fisherman, is showing Judas how to wash clothes. “You’ve really never done this before?” he asks the once businessman.
“No. My business partner Hadad and I always had the laundry sent out.”
Must have been nice, Zee thinks. Even the Zealots trained their men to take care of themselves. And he enjoys such tasks, not because they are fun in themselves, but because they remind him of the difference in his life since Jesus healed his brother. That obliterates any doubt or animosity toward spiritual matters. Nothing can change his mind about his new master’s identity. He serves the Messiah, the Son of the living God.
Zee knows Judas shares his devotion to Jesus but wonders how he feels about now living like a pauper. “You have no savings left?” he asks him.
Judas shakes his head. “I had to divest my shares in the company in order to follow Jesus.”
“A small price,” Zee says, demonstrating the steps to do the wash. “And a wise choice.”
“Well, sure,” Judas says. “I mean, that’s an understatement, but it turns out one wise choice only highlights how much practical wisdom I don’t have—like how to wash clothes.”
“Lucky for you, it’s not that hard.”
Zee motions for Judas to set his clothes into a large bucket and pours a few drops of a thick liquid from an alabaster bottle into the water.
“What is that?” Judas says.
“Some salts, oils extracted from plants, animal fat.”
“Eew. Wish I hadn’t asked.”
Zee swirls the clothes in the bucket with a stick. “See, it’s saturated. Then we take the clothes out and rinse them in the sea.”
“You know,” Judas says, mirroring Zee’s every move, “if our funds weren’t so low, we could hire people to do the wash, giving us more time to get to the real work and expand the ministry.”
“And how would that look to people?”
“Like we’re maximizing our time and resources to build the kingdom of the Messiah.”
“You think the followers of Jesus are unwilling to perform mundane tasks?”
“You imagine a contingency for something unsaid,” Judas says. “No one is examining Jesus’ books. We should be out there spreading the word, gathering more followers.”
“But, Judas, this is what the people we talk to do—laundry. If we appear lofty and too important for daily tasks, we will no longer be relatable.” Zee takes a garment to a large white rock. “Now we ball it up and knead it hard against the rock.” Judas tries it. “Harder,” Zee adds. “It gets the water out and dislodges dirt from between the fibers.”
As Judas scrubs, he says, “I’m not saying there couldn’t be a perception problem. I’m just saying we could cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we could do more if we had more funding.”
“Well, there is Zebedee’s olive oil business.”
“Which hasn’t brought in a shekel.”
“Yet,” Zee says, moving back to the sea where he dips the garment. “Judas, you are learned.”
“Thank you.”
“But you are not wise.”
Judas stops and laughs. “Oh. Okay. Thanks for that. I liked the learned part.”
“You have dedicated your life to a teacher, yes?”
Judas cocks his head. “He walks on water and controls the wind and waves, but sure, he’s a teacher too.”
“And yet you have overlooked his lessons to find faults in something you don’t understand. There are lessons in everything he asks and shares.”
“Fine. Where do I start?”
Zee knows Judas is asking about much more than the laundry but says, “Next, rinse away what’s been scrubbed out. You’re making the garment new again. Now my favorite part—” Holding one corner of the garment, Zee slams it on the rock over and over, like he’s trying to beat it to death. “This is for those last most stubborn bits of what was there before. Ultimately this will help it dry faster too.”
Judas tries but with less graceful swings and slams. “I always wondered how it is you never stink, even though you’re exercising all the time. The sweat is no match for your strength.”
“I have to do something with my strength,” Zee says, “now that I don’t need it anymore—or at least not in the way I thought I would.”
“See?” Judas says. “You have it too.”
“Have what?” Zee says, heading back to the water.
“You have an old way of being in the world, and you left it behind. Yet you can’t really shake all of it, so you’ve adapted it.”
“Third and final rinse. I’m not sure I follow.”
“I left behind a way of life,” Judas says. “And while I may be living radically differently than before, I just can’t keep from seeing how we could do things faster and more efficiently.”
“Did Jesus ask you to run his ministry more efficiently?”
“No, just to keep the purse.”
“Then keep the purse.”
“But Zee, all those people he fed in the Decapolis—they weren’t all poor. They were just far from home with nothing to eat. If we had taken up a collection from just ten percent of the five thousand, just ten percent—a fraction of people’s offerings of gratitude from those who could afford to give—we wouldn’t be in such dire straits, waiting to do important work until revenue kicks in from Zebedee’s olive oil.”
They head for the trees to hang the garments. Zee says, “If Jesus wanted to take up an offering, he would have. You’re asking why he didn’t do it the way you’d have done it before you met him?”
“The old me would have sold those loaves.”
Zee stares at him. “You should be asking to whom his charity was a lesson.”
“I believe in his words and his lessons. They changed my life. But they’re not where this ends. He’s the Messiah, Zee.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because if he is the Son of David and is to fulfill Isaiah’s prophecy that ‘the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established on the top of the mountains and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow to it,’ it’s time for us to move faster. He won’t become king by amassing no resources of power. It’s unheard of.”
Zee stops and looks Judas in the eye. “He’s unheard of. Prophesied but never seen.” He softens. “Your clothes are still dirty.”
Judas laughs. “Come on, Zee. It’s my first time. Plus, I’m not as strong as you.”
“So put your ingenuity into it. Jesus asked us to get it done. There was a reason.”
“You sure about that? I’m pretty sure clean clothes are their own virtue.”
“It will become more clear,” Zee says. “When I was new to this, I had some hard lessons to learn, believe me.”
Judas sniffs a garment. “Animal fat? How? Wouldn’t there be chunks?”
“Well,” Zee says, “it’s heated and melted and run through a sieve to separate the solids, sort of like the way you sift wheat, shaking it over a strainer to get rid of the impurities—separate the good grain from the bad.”
Chapter 6
TASTE TEST
Capernaum Synagogue courtyard
Zebedee cannot remember feeling such tension since the births of both his sons. But now, here they are, with Tamar in tow, arriving with the pithari jars all still in one piece.
“Shalom!” the temple administrator calls out. It’s Jairus, whose daughter Jesus raised from the dead not so long before. “You’re right on the hour as agreed—a good sign already.” The man impulsively embraces Zebedee’s sons—no doubt because they were present at the raising of his daughter—but he quickly regains a sense of decorum and whispers, “Of course, I suppose I should expect nothing less from—his followers.”
John shushes him as Rabbi Akiva appears at the door of the temple, chest puffed. “We haven’t the time for pleasantries!”
Zebedee feels like a scolded child and approaches with reverence, the others following. “The woman will wait outside,” the rabbi adds.
“But I helped make the—”
“Tamar,” Zebedee says, “just for the transaction.” He sees the pain in her face and is grateful when James offers to stay back with her and watch the cart.
Capernaum synagogue bet midrash
Zebedee can barely control himself as Jairus, Rabbi Akiva, and Yussif settle at a table set with oil lamps and small dishes. He catches Yussif ’s apparent look of support as the Pharisee seems to surreptitiously glance at him and John. He fights to not get ahead of himself, but he can’t help imagining the honor of winning the synagogue’s business and helping finance Jesus’ ministry. He snaps to attention when Rabbi Akiva addresses him directly.
“First, can you confirm that this anointing oil was blended by the perfumer according to the formula laid out in the Book of Moses?”
“To the letter, Rabbi.”
“Recite it, please.”
Zebedee is so glad he took the time to memorize the formula. Now if he can only bring it all to mind under such pressure. He steals a peek at a scribe in the corner who has a scroll laid out on a podium and bears a yad pointer. “Of liquid myrrh 500 shekels,” Zebedee begins, feeling his confidence grow, despite his racing pulse. “And of sweet-smelling cinnamon half as much, that is 250, and 250 of aromatic cane, and 500 of cassia, according to the shekel of the sanctuary. And a hint of olive oil.”
The rabbi looks to the scribe who nods and says, “Word for word.”
All three men at the table lift their oil lamps and hold the glass drams up to the flames.
“Extremely well-racked and purged,” Yussif says.
“Clear,” Jairus says. “Bright.”
The rabbi curls his mouth and Zebedee fears the man is straining to find something to criticize. Meanwhile Jairus and Yussif taste the oil and look pleasantly surprised.
“It does stay on my fingers,” the rabbi says.
Stays on his fingers?! “With all respect, Rabbi,” Zebedee says, “we believe the viscosity is due to the correct amount of myrrh. The gum resin is expensive. It has binding qualities necessary for—”
“Yes,” the rabbi says. “I know what myrrh is for.” He wipes his fingers. “It’s not what I’m used to. It’s harder to wipe off. Jairus, why are we considering a new oil supplier anyway?”
Oh, no.
“Our current vendor,” Jairus says, “travels a great distance from Judea and—”
“From the Gethsemane groves nearest the Holy City,” the rabbi says. “There are none better.”
“That may be true,” Yussif says, “by way of proximity to Jerusalem.”
“Nearest to the temple containing the Holy of Holies, man! The presence. Of. God. You think we should use a vendor farther away than that?”
“But, Rabbi, Rome has demarcated Judea as a separate province from Galilee.”
“I would like to leave Rome out of this,” the rabbi says.
Jairus says, “They imposed an import tax on goods from Judea.”
The rabbi appears to consider this. “Better price and fair quality has its appeal. Still, oil from Gethsemane …”
“In addition to the tariff,” Yussif says, “we currently also pay for shipping and labor. Zebedee is local.”
The rabbi turns to Zebedee. “You will never charge us a shipping fee?”
“Never, Rabbi. I will put it in writing.”
Jairus says, “I believe this is higher quality for half the price, Rabbi Akiva. If you think the congregation can manage without the Gethsemane olives …”
The rabbi falls silent.
“I don’t know much about economics, Rabbi,” Yussif says. “But by supporting a small local business, we help Capernaum.”
The rabbi levels a gaze at him. “You may drop the façade, Yussif. You honestly think I don’t know who your father is?”
Yussif pales, but the point is lost on Zebedee.
Jairus jumps in. “Yussif has a point. It’s about responsible stewardship of the people’s tithes and our time. As chief administrator of this synagogue, I consider the matter settled. Zebedee, congratulations on your fine work.”
Zebedee shares a smile with him and feels he can breathe again.
Rabbi Akiva appears to want the last word, perhaps to save face. “I do not dispute your logic regarding the allocation of resources. But let the record state that I voiced reticence at the notion of abandoning the Gethsemane vendor. I want future generations to know that at least one person advocated for tradition and precedent over finances and practicality.”
Jairus nods to the scribe. “Please reflect the rabbi’s dissent in the record.”
“So noted,” the man says.
As the Pharisees rise, Jairus says, “Zebedee, please accompany me to my office to discuss a fee structure.”
Chapter 7
INSULT UPON INSULT
Machaerus Palace
Joanna is eager to visit John the Baptizer in the dungeon, so she disguises herself in a hooded cloak. She peeks into the hall where the opulent banquet will be held that evening. Vendors load tables with lavish flowers in ornate vases while others hang drapes. What a farce, all an effort by the king to advertise a flourishing, successful kingdom—despite that it’s riddled with corruption.
A choreographer Joanna has seen before supervises a servant who stretches a line taut to a point where he kneels to chalk a mark. He suddenly rises and bows. “Queen Herodias! I believe we’re ready.”
“I’m sure you are,” she says, “but we must make sure Salome is. Go lead her through it one more time.”
