By the Sea

Daybreak arrived over the Sea of Gawlee-law. Weary and discouraged after a long night of fishing, their nets still empty, some of the fishermen headed for shore. Petros and his brother Andre were in one boat, Yah-kobus and Yo-hawn bar-Zabdee in the other.

They noticed Yeh-shuah among the crowd assembling on the shore. It was early morning, yet already he was teaching and healing many people hungry for the truth. When he saw Petros’ boat land, Yeh-shuah stepped into it and Petros pulled a short distance away from the shore. He continued to speak to the people from the boat.

When he was finished, Yeh-shuah said to Petros, “Launch out to sea, Petros, and let down your nets.”

“But Master,” Petros objected, “We’ve fished all night with no results. Daylight is a really poor time to try to catch anything with the nets.”

“Come on Petros,” Andre urged. “ If the Teacher says so, let’s do it.”

Farther out, they let down the net, but when they tried to pull it in, it was so full of fish that it began to break. They called Yah-kobus and Yo-hawn over from the other boat to help out. When the net was finally empty, both boats rode low in the water.

As they slowly made their way to shore, Petros stared at Yeh-shuah for a long time. “Get away from me, Master!” he exclaimed, “because I am an evil man.”

“Don’t be afraid, Petros,” Yeh-shuah said. “From now on you will catch men, not fish. Come. Follow me.” Back on shore, Yeh-shuah said to the others, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” So from that time on, they quit fishing and followed him.

Demons in Kaw-fawr Nakh-oom

Yeh-shuah often stayed in Kaw-fawr Nakh-oom, on the shores of the Sea of Gawlee-law. Whenever he was in town, great crowds came to him. On Sabbaths, many people were turned away from the synagogue because there was no more room. “Yeh-shuah teaches with authority,” the people said. “The chief teachers here don’t know anything, and when they think they do, they argue among themselves just to prove each other wrong.”

Yeh-shuah never mentioned their disagreements, but instead presented the most beautiful truths directly and simply. He met prejudice with tact, and disarmed the skeptics with illustrations taken from everyday life.

One Sabbath, while speaking about his mission to liberate the captives of the Evil One, a wild scream shattered the peace of the synagogue. “Leave us alone!” the possessed man shrieked as he broke into the room and shook his fists menacingly. “Have you come to destroy us, you, you Yeh-shuah of Nad-zorah? I know you. You are the Evil-Free One from Elo-heem!”

The congregation looked back and forth from the madman to Yeh-shuah with alarm, not knowing what was going to happen next. In a loud voice Yeh-shuah said, “Be quiet and come out of him!” The poor man thrashed wildly about on the floor until the demon came out, leaving him exhausted and breathing heavily.

“Free at last!” he croaked hoarsely. “Thank you Almighty Elo-heem for setting me free!” He turned to face Yeh-shuah and said, “I came to ask you for help, but all I could do was scream and curse.”

Yeh-shuah nodded silently at him while people exclaimed, “What’s going on? Even evil spirits obey his commands!”

Yeh-shuah said a few more words and then left the synagogue for Petros’ house to rest. When he and his disciples arrived, Petros’ mother-in-law lay sick in bed with a high fever. After Yeh-shuah spoke a few words to her, she got up perfectly healthy and prepared the meal for everyone.

As word of his work spread, many people came looking for him. On Sabbaths, though, in fear of the chief teachers, no one dared to come for healing. As soon as the sun disappeared below the horizon on the seventh day, the sick came from everywhere throughout the city, some hardly able to walk. It was late into the night when the last of the sick left and everyone else went home. Yeh-shuah slept a few hours, then, before anyone else was up, he found a solitary place to commune with his Father. Some nights he never slept, but went alone to the mountains to meditate.

He left Kaw-fawr Nakh-oom, though, when his popularity became so great that it endangered his mission. The people wanted him to become king and establish an earthly kingdom, but he wished to channel their minds from earthly things to spiritual things. A worldly kingdom would fail, and only interfere with his mission.

The Man with Leprosy

The leper listened intently to his friend’s story about a man who was healing sick people in the area. “Would he heal me?” he questioned hopefully as faith sprang up in his heart. “I must find him,” he decided, and determined to search the countryside until he did.

Weeks later, he finally found Yeh-shuah, standing beside a lake, surrounded by a large crowd. Forgetting in his excitement the Yeh-oo-dee law forbidding him to mingle with healthy people, he crept nearer and nearer as he saw sick and dying people returned to full health. A woman in the crowd looked up into his face and screamed. People were falling over each other trying to get away from him.

Someone shouted crossly at him saying, “Get out of here! It’s against the law!”

The leper’s attention was riveted on Yeh-shuah: He could see or hear nothing else. He came face to face with him and fell on his hands and knees. In anguish he cried out, “Master, if you wish, you can make me whole!”

Yeh-shuah looked at the miserable wretch and laid his hand on him. “I do,” he said. “Be whole again.” At that moment, a change rapidly began to take place. The leper’s ears and nose and fingers grew back as his skin, nerves, and muscles were restored. Tears came to the man’s eyes as he thanked Yeh-shuah from the depths of his soul.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Yeh-shuah said to him. “Go to the priests, and after they have pronounced you well, present your offering.” The leper did go to the priests, but afterwards, he went around telling everyone what Yeh-shuah had done. He thought he was doing good by spreading the news, but in fact, such huge crowds came out to see Yeh-shuah that he had to stop his work for a time.

The Paralyzed Man

When a paralyzed man’s friends brought reports of Yeh-shuah healing others as bad or even worse off than he was, they encouraged him to go. “But I’ve been such a wicked person!” he whispered hoarsely. “Even the Faris-Ahyos have no mercy on me. How could Yeh-shuah tolerate my disgusting presence? If only he would forgive my many wrongs, then I could die happy.”

He was indeed approaching death, and his friends immediately carried him on his stretcher to the house where Yeh-shuah was. Once there, they realized there were far too many people to come even within hearing distance of his voice. After a number of futile attempts at forcing their way in, they gave up in discouragement. The paralyzed man looked around in anguish, so close, yet so far.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. He told his friends to take him up the stairway to the tiled roof. After carefully making an opening large enough, they let him down through the roof at the feet of Yeh-shuah. Yeh-shuah looked down kindly at the gravely ill man wearing such a hopeful expression on his features.

“My son,” Yeh-shuah said, “Be happy, for your sins are forgiven.”

The despair that weighed down his soul vanished, and a new peace filled his being. His whole body tingled as it was restored to health, and he lay there serenely, too happy for words.

The Faris-Ahyos spies looked at each other and exchanged exultant glances. “Blasphemy!” they thought. “Only Elo-heem can forgive sins!” They were just about to confront Yeh-shuah when he looked at them hard. They cowered back, looking for a way to escape those piercing eyes.

“Why are your thoughts evil?” he asked them. “Is it easier to say ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say ‘Get up and walk?’” He paused and looked down at the man on his bed. “But to prove to the Faris-Ahyos that the Son of Man can forgive sins, I say to this man, ‘Stand up, pick up your bed, and go home.’”

The old man jumped to his feet with the strength of youth, picked up his stretcher, and made his way out through the crowd while everyone looked on, speechless with amazement. They parted to give him room as he left, praising Elo-heem. Dumfounded and awestruck, they whispered among themselves, “We’ve never seen anything like it!”

Defeated, the Faris-Ahyos recognized the presence of a superior being, but their unbelief and hatred grew ever stronger. “His power comes from Saw-tawn,” they thought. They could not see that even the worst diseases afflicting humanity were not as terrible as bigotry and unbelief.

When he reached his home, the restored man’s family gathered around with tears of joy, hardly daring to believe their eyes. An unmistakable expression of joy and purity and peace replaced the marks of suffering on his features. No doubt or unbelief weakened their faith: This man and his family were now ready to lay down their lives for Yeh-shuah.

Mat-thah-yos

It was just another day as Mat-thah-yos sat in his tax booth. He sighed as he looked over his take so far. The ugly names and nasty looks weighed down his soul, since everyone knew that tax collectors cheated. Sometimes he longed for the better way of life that Yeh-shuah taught. He wished he could speak personally to the great teacher, but even the religious teachers treated tax collectors as traitors, the lowest of the low. He knew he couldn’t approach Yeh-shuah because he, Mat-thah-yos, was the scum of the earth.

The day wore on until he looked up in surprise to see someone watching him. “Follow me,” Yeh-shuah said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Mat-thah-yos stood up and started to leave the booth, but then hesitated for a moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins and put them into the money box. “I quit!” he shouted to no one in particular, then left with Yeh-shuah.

Mat-thah-yos’ Feast

Several days after the tax booth visit, Mat-thah-yos gave a feast in honor of Yeh-shuah to show his appreciation for rescuing him from the unhappy life of a tax collector. He wanted his friends and relatives to meet Yeh-shuah, so he invited them all to come, even those with doubtful reputations.

Yeh-shuah sat as the guest of honor, thoroughly enjoying the chance to talk to these people, many thirsting for a better way of life. The Faris-Ahyos, he knew, would seize the opportunity to discredit him for socializing with these social outcasts, but he also knew, someday, some of those sitting at this very table would become messengers for the truth.

The Faris-Ahyos leered at Yeh-shuah and asked his disciples, “Why does your Master feast with tax collectors and other evil people?”

“Leave them alone,” Yeh-shuah said when he overheard the conversation. “Those who are well don’t need a physician, only those who are sick. You need to learn what ‘I’d rather have mercy than sacrifice’ means. It’s not the righteous who are called to repentance, but sinners.”

None of the Faris-Ahyos could answer this, so they left and went straight to Yo-hawn Baptace’s disciples. “Look,” they said with scorn, “this Yeh-shuah is a glutton and a drinker while you starve yourselves and Yo-hawn is in prison. What’s going on?”

Perplexed, Yo-hawn’s disciples came to Yeh-shuah and asked him why the Faris-Ahyos and themselves fasted while he and his disciples did not. “Remember what Yo-hawn said, ‘The friend of the bridegroom rejoices at the bridegrooms voice.’” Yeh-shuah replied. “Should the guests of the bridegroom mourn while he is still with them? The day is coming when the bridegroom will be taken, and that will be the time for fasting.

“Yo-hawn’s message is this: No one tears a patch from a new garment to mend and old one. The new garment will be ruined, and when the old garment is washed, the patch will shrink and the tear will be worse.

“Again, no one puts new wine into old wineskins, because the old skins will burst and the wine will be lost. New wine is put into new wineskins. And no one who drinks old wine wants to try the new, because he thinks, ‘The old is better.’”

One of Yeh-shuah’s disciples explained to them later, “The old garment and the old wineskins are the ceremonies and traditions of the Faris-Ahyos. The teachings of Yo-hawn Baptace and Yeh-shuah are the new garment and the new wine. You can’t unite the teachings of Yeh-shuah with the Faris-Ahyos religion, because it will result in failure. The Faris-Ahyos do not want the new religion, but unless they discard their traditions and practices, they cannot appreciate the teachings of Yeh-shuah.”

The Pool of Bayth-Essdah

Walking alone one day, Yeh-shuah came to the pool of Bayth-Essdah. As usual, there was quite a large crowd for such a small pool. The people there believed that some supernatural force agitated the waters of this pool, and the first to step into the water afterwards would be healed of whatever disease he had. Often, in the wild rush to reach the pool, the weak and the young were trampled to death. Someone put up shelters to shade the hundreds of sick from the hot sun.

Yeh-shuah stood among the diseased humans, wishing he could heal them all. If he did, though, his work would certainly be cut short because of the anger of the priests and rulers against him. On his way out, he stopped and stood before the ultimate case of human wretchedness, a sad, weak old man, despairing of ever reaching the water to be healed of his disease. He couldn’t possibly contend with the selfish, scrambling crowd when the time arrived to get into the water. Disappointment after disappointment was wearing away the last of his strength.

The bearded old man raised his head when a gentle voice said to him, “Do you wish to be made whole?” As he looked up into Yeh-shuah’s kind face, a moment of hope soon faded back into despair.

“Sir, I have no one to help me into the pool. While I am struggling to the edge, others step down before me.”

“Stand up,” Yeh-shuah commanded kindly. “Pick up your bed and walk.”

The old man looked up at Yeh-shuah with a quizzical expression as he tried to comprehend the impossible. Suddenly, his entire body tingled as his faith took hold. He looked at his hands and feet, then stood up, a little unsteadily at first. After rolling up his bed, he turned to thank his healer, but Yeh-shuah was gone.

Nearly bursting with joy, he turned to those around him and shouted, “I can walk! Look, I can walk! Thank you Elo-heem! I can walk!” He searched the crowd intently as he shouted for joy, fearing he would not recognize the man who had done this for him. Not finding him there, he left the place carrying his bed roll. It was a Sabbath afternoon.

Outside, some Faris-Ahyos stopped him on the street. “Why are you carrying your bedroll on the Sabbath?” they scowled. “It’s against the law to carry certain things on the Sabbath.”

“I forgot it was Sabbath in my excitement,” the old man answered, “but the One that healed me told me to pick up my bed and walk.”

”And who was that?” they asked coldly, but they already knew.

“I don’t know,” the old man answered truthfully. “Excuse me, but I must go to the Temple, now.”

While he was at the Temple, Yeh-shuah found the man and said to him, “See, you are made whole. Do not continue to do evil, or something worse may result.”

Ignorant of their deep-seated hatred of Yeh-shuah, the ex-invalid pointed him out to the Temple rulers. Later, the rulers called Yeh-shuah before their High Council. “You have violated the Sabbath by doing work, and, you have caused another Yeh-oo-dee to work on the Sabbath, too. You cannot deny that you have broken the Sabbath Laws,” the chief of the Faris-Ahyos said angrily.

“You have perverted the Sabbath,” Yeh-shuah countered, “and invented all kinds of restrictions. Your rules are a joke among other nations: You cannot light a fire, or even a candle, so you hire non-Yeh-oo-dee to do your work for you. Your many man-made rules have made the Sabbath a curse instead of a blessing. To heal the sick, and to relieve suffering honors the Sabbath. Like my Father who works continuously to maintain the universe, so I must work continuously also. The Sabbath was made for men to rest from work for livelihood, for worship, and for holy deeds.”

With murderous thoughts, the Faris-Ahyos bristled at his words, and snarled, saying, “For the blasphemy of calling yourself the Son of Elo-heem you are worthy of death, and were it not for all the people you have fooled already, your blood would be running out on the ground before us right now.”

By these words, Yeh-shuah saw that the Faris-Ahyos had completely separated themselves from Elo-heem. “Here is Truth,” Yeh-shuah continued. “The Son does nothing by himself. The Father loves the Son and tells him what to do, and as you will soon see, even raise the dead. If you do not honor the Son, you do not honor the Father who sent him.

“Whoever hears my words and believes will live forever. The time is coming when the dead who have done good will hear the voice of the Son and will rise to live, but the dead who have done evil will rise later to be condemned. The Father supports me by giving his work to me to finish. You cannot hear his voice or see his form because you do not believe the One he sent.

“You study the Ancient Writings thinking you will possess eternal life by them, yet these are the very words written about me. My teaching is spiritual, demanding the sacrifice of self: Therefore you do not understand it.”

The Faris-Ahyos stood condemned, but they resisted conviction and locked themselves in the darkness of fanaticism. Seized with the fear of losing their power, they became even more determined to see Yeh-shuah dead. After this, they sent men to warn the people about the imposter and had spies follow him to observe everything he said and did.

Very interesting. It flows well - supremely readable, though at first I had my doubts due to unfamiliar pronunciations. I haven't had time to read more than your first two chapters yet, but the thought crosses my mind that this is a great exercise. Has going through this process changed you at all? Have you finished writing the book?

LynnDel

The Twelve

Dawn broke over the Sea of Gawlee-law as Yeh-shuah climbed down the mountainside to meet with his disciples. They spent the night sleeping while Yeh-shuah went up to pray until the first light of morning.

They stood in small groups, and each sensed something important was about to happen. Yeh-shuah stood a few paces off, occasionally studying one or another as they stood talking among themselves. One by one he read their characters with Spirit power, sensing their weaknesses and errors and the responsibilities that would fall to them.

Petros was impulsive, yet generous;
Simone, a fiery patriot who hated the authority of Rom-ah;
Tho-mas, true-hearted, yet afraid;
Filip, slow to believe;
Yah-kobus and Yo-hawn, so-called the Sons of Thunder because of their fierce tempers and instant indignation at any insult directed at their Master.
Petros, Yah-kobus, and Yo-hawn were the closest to him, but Yo-hawn was his best friend. Andre, Filip, Nethan-ale, and Mat-thah-yos were next, followed by Bar-tholom-ahyos, Tho-mas, Yah-kobus Alfah-yos, and Simone.

To each of them, Yeh-shuah spoke words of encouragement, just the right words that each of them needed to hear. As he spoke, someone came up to the group and interrupted Yeh-shuah, exclaiming, “Master, I will follow you anywhere.”

Yeh-shuah looked into the man’s soul and said, almost sadly, “Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no home of his own.” He said this to discourage the man’s hopes for a high position in a new government.

“Yewdas Ker-ee-yoth is a good man, Master,” one of the disciples spoke up. “He has a sharp business mind and will serve the cause well.”

Yeh-shuah sensed Yewdas’ dishonest and treacherous heart, but neither encouraged nor discouraged him from joining the group. So Yewdas remained among them. Yeh-shuah finished speaking to them and had them come close around him while they all kneeled. He put his hands on their heads and dedicated each one of them to his service.

On the Mountainside

After the dedication of the Twelve, Yeh-shuah took them down to the seashore where a crowd was already beginning to assemble. Since there wasn’t enough room between the rocky cliffs and the sea for everyone to be within hearing distance, he led the way back up the mountainside.

When they reached a suitable place, Yeh-shuah sat down with his disciples surrounding him, then the crowds of people beyond. Everyone felt that something unusual was about to take place. They were all hoping for an announcement concerning the soon-to-be-established kingdom.

Yeh-shuah knew their false hopes and delusions of future grandeur, but patiently worked to undo their misconceptions. Without criticism, he taught the conditions for entrance into the true Kingdom, saying,

“Blessed are the humble who know their need of Elo-heem, for the Kingdom of the Stars will be theirs.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the gentle of spirit, for the earth will be theirs.

Blessed are those who long for right to prevail, for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are those who show mercy, for mercy will be shown to them.

Blessed are those who seek peace, for they shall be called the Sons of Elo-heem.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for being righteous, for the Kingdom of the Stars will be theirs.

Blessed are those who are insulted and persecuted and slandered because of me. Accept it with dignity and be glad, for your reward will be great in Elo-heem’s Land. The prophets of old were treated the same way.

“You are the seasoning of the world, but if the seasoning loses its taste, it becomes worthless and will be thrown away. You are Light to the world. Live so that men will praise the Father above.

“I haven’t come to abolish the teaching of Mosheh and the Prophets, but to finish them. The Law will stand until its purpose is accomplished, even if earth and sky are destroyed.

“Men of old were told, ‘Do not kill,’ but whoever is angry with someone or treats them with contempt will be brought to judgment. It was also said, ‘Do not commit adultery,’ but if a man even looks with lust at a woman, he has committed adultery in his mind. If a man divorces a woman, except for infidelity, he causes her to commit adultery besides the man she marries afterwards.

“In the old days it was said, ‘Eye for eye, tooth for tooth,’ but I say, don’t resist the man who wrongs you. Turn the other cheek, and if he sues for your shirt, give him your coat, too. Go the extra mile, give when asked, and lend if someone wants to borrow.

“Love your enemies and pray for your persecutors. If you love only those who love you, can you expect a reward? If you greet only your friends, is that anything outstanding? Your goodness must be unlimited, even as your Father’s goodness is unlimited.

“Don’t be like the hypocrites who show off their religion, like announcing their gifts to the poor with a trumpet fanfare or praying loudly on the street corners so they can be noticed. Give to the poor in secret, and pray in secret.

“This is how to pray:

Our Father in Heaven,
Holy is your name.
May your Kingdom come
And your will be done on Earth,
Like it is in the Kingdom of the Stars.
Give us the bread we need for today,
And forgive our wrongs as we forgive those who wrong us.
Protect us from temptation and save us from the Evil One. Amen.

“If you forgive others for their wrongs, your Father will forgive you also. If you don’t, then your wrongs will not be forgiven. When you fast, don’t make a big production out of it like the hypocrites do. Let it be a secret between you and the Father.

“Don’t pile up wealth on Earth where it can be ruined or stolen, but rather make for yourselves treasure in Elo-heem’s Kingdom where it won’t be ruined or stolen. Your heart is where your treasures are. Don’t worry about food or drink or clothes. Let the unbelievers go after them. Life is more important than these. Keep your thoughts on Elo-heem’s Kingdom and all your needs will be taken care of.

“Don’t criticize people and you won’t be criticized. You will be judged by the way you judge others. Treat others like you want to be treated, for this is the basis of the Law.

“Why do you fuss about the minor faults in others when you can’t see your own major faults. Do something about your own faults before you attempt to correct the faults of others.

“If you ask, you will receive, if you seek, you will find, if you knock, the door will be opened. Elo-heem will give good things to those who ask.

“Don’t take the wide road that leads to destruction. Many are going that way, but take instead the narrow road that leads to life, for the few that find it will live forever. Watch for false prophets who look innocent enough, but are really savage wolves. Their actions will reveal their true nature.

“Not everyone who speaks my name will enter the Kingdom, only those who do what my Father asks. Those who hear and follow my instructions are like the man who built a house on a solid foundation. Those who hear and do not follow my instructions are like the foolish man who built a house on the sand. When the rain and the winds and the floods came, the house built on solid rock stood firm, while the house built on sand fell with a great crash.”

The Commander’s Son

One day, while Yeh-shuah was in Kaw-fawr Nakh-oom, a group of respected elders met him with a request. “A Rom-ah-yos commander has a trusted servant who is paralyzed and near death. He seeks his restoration to health,” the elders said. “This commander paid for our synagogue, so he is a good man, yet, he feels himself unworthy to ask you in person.”

Yeh-shuah left immediately to go to the commander’s home, but it was slow going because of all the people around him. Word reached the commander that Yeh-shuah was coming. “Don’t trouble yourself, Master,” was the return message, “for I’m not worthy to have you come into my house.”

But Yeh-shuah continued until the commander finally approached in person and spoke to him. “I consider myself unworthy to come to you, but if you just say the words, my servant will be healed. I know you can do this, because when I say to the soldiers under me, ‘Go,’ or “Come,’ or “Do this,” they obey immediately.”

Yeh-shuah stopped in his tracks and turned the commander about to face the crowd following them. “Look!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t found anyone with this much faith, not even in the Land of Yissraw-ale!

“Many people will come form east and west,” he continued, “to sit at my table in the Kingdom, but those who were born to the Kingdom will be barred from entrance. They will suffer in the outer darkness.” He turned to the commander and said, “You have believed, therefore, it will be done.” When the commander returned home, he found his servant was healed that very hour.

The Gates of Nah-yin

Yeh-shuah was traveling to Nah-yin, a small town in the mountains about twenty miles from Kaw-fawr Nakh-oom. All along the way people came to him, bringing their sick. They were still hoping that he would soon make himself king of Yissraw-ale. It was a happy company that followed him up the rocky road to the mountain village.

Just as they came near the city gate, it opened, and out came a funeral procession. The mourners filled the air with loud wailing as a body was carried along on an open platform in the lead. It looked like most of the town had gathered to pay their last respects.

Yeh-shuah saw the tear-stained face of the mother of the young man who passed away. She was a widow, and now, her only son was dead. He slipped in beside her, but she was crying so hard that she didn’t notice. “Don’t cry,” he told her.

He stepped up to the platform and touched it. The bearers stopped, and a hush fell as they lowered the platform to the ground. Everyone knew Yeh-shuah could heal diseases, but could he do more? It was almost too much to hope for.

In a clear, loud voice, Yeh-shuah called out, “Young man, Arise!” For a moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, the man opened his eyes. Yeh-shuah took his hand and helped him to his feet. He looked on as mother and son embraced and the crowd looked on in silence, awestruck. Everyone stood quietly for a while, feeling like they were in the presence of Elo-heem himself.

“Elo-heem has visited us!” they exclaimed later as the procession went back into town in triumph.

Yah-iros’ Daughter

Yeh-shuah was teaching and healing on the western shore of the Sea of Gawlee-law, when Yah-iros, a ruler in the local synagogue, came up to him in great distress. “My little daughter is near death,” he said. “Please come and touch her so she can be healed and live.”

Yeh-shuah left at once with Yah-iros for his home, only a short distance away. The disciples were surprised at Yeh-shuah’s quick response to the self-important ruler’s request. They did not make rapid progress because of the surrounding crowd, and from time to time, Yeh-shuah stopped to heal a sick person or comfort a troubled heart.

While they were still on the way, a messenger brought the news to Yah-iros that his daughter was dead. “Trouble the Master no further,” the messenger said.

Yeh-shuah overheard and said, “If you believe, she will be restored.” Yah-iros stayed close to Yeh-shuah until they reached his home. Already the hired mourners were filling the air with their screaming and wailing.

Because the commotion jarred his spirit, Yeh-shuah tried to silence the mourners. “Why all the noise and commotion? The girl isn’t dead. She’s only sleeping.”

“Are you trying to insult us,” the indignant mourners said. “Haven’t you ever seen a dead child before?” they sneered. “This guy is a real moron,” they said as they laughed him to scorn.

“Everyone must leave, now,” Yeh-shuah said to the people in the house, “except for the father and mother and Yah-kobus and Yo-hawn.” After they entered the little girl’s room, Yeh-shuah walked up to the bedside, took her hand, and said, “Little girl, get up.”

Instantly a tremor passed through the lifeless little body. Her heart began beating, her lips formed a smile, and her eyes popped wide open. She got up from the bed and went straight to her parents who hugged her tightly, tears streaming down their faces.

Night Crossing

After a long day of teaching and healing, Yeh-shuah found himself exhausted, wanting only to find a quiet place to rest on the other side of the Sea of Gawlee-law. It was a more desolate region than the western side, and there were fewer Yeh-oo-dee living there. Here, he hoped to find seclusion for a time. He climbed into a fishing boat with several of his disciples, then set off for the other side of the lake. Others jumped into nearby boats and followed, eager to find out where he was going.

Overcome with weariness, he soon fell asleep in the back of the boat while the disciples rowed across a calm sea. After sunset, a large bank of dark clouds quickly swept in and turned dusk into a starless night. Strong gusts of wind began to blow. Soon, the storm was in full force, and high winds blasted waves across the deck of the little fishing boat. Several times they were nearly swamped, and in the struggle to save themselves, they nearly forgot about Yeh-shuah being on board. It was so dark they couldn’t see him.

Despairing of their lives, the disciples remembered it was Yeh-shuah’s idea to cross the sea by night. “Master, Master!’ they shouted above the howling wind, but there was no answer. “Master!” they called again only to have their voices drowned out by the shrieking wind.

In a flash of lightning they saw him for an instant, still sleeping peacefully. The water in the boat was rising, and they thought the boat could go under anytime. One of the men came close and shouted, “Master! Don’t you care that we’re all going to die?”

Yeh-shuah woke up, and in the next flash they could see his peaceful face. “Save us, Master, or else we’ll drown!” they yelled.

He stood up, and as the lightning flashed, they saw his upraised arm. “Peace, Be still,” he commanded.

Instantly, the wind, the waves, the thunder, and the lightning stopped as the clouds rapidly moved away, revealing a beautiful, starry night sky. The boat now rested on a calm sea. Yeh-shuah turned to his disciples and asked, “Why are you afraid? Don’t you have faith?”

They were all silent, even Petros. The other boats that followed were nearby, and had been in the same distress. “What kind of man can command the winds and the sea to obey him?” they asked themselves.

They approached the opposite shore early in the morning, and as the sun rose, Yeh-shuah and his men got out of the boat.

Attack of the Wild Men

No sooner had they stepped onto dry land when they heard some fearful screaming and howling from some nearby tombs. Out rushed two wild men straight towards them, bellowing and thrashing their arms about. Parts of chains hung around their waists and ankles, and they were bleeding where they deliberately cut themselves with sharp stones. Looking more like wild animals than men, their eyes glared with the fires of insanity.

“Let’s get out of here!” the disciples yelled as they ran in the opposite direction. When they were far enough away, someone noticed Yeh-shuah wasn’t with them. “Look, he hasn’t moved a step, and they’re going after him!” Petros exclaimed.

The wild men came to within just a few feet from Yeh-shuah, screaming, snarling, and foaming at the mouth. When he raised his hand, they could come no closer. They swung their arms in a frenzy of rage, but were unable to harm him.

In a clear, calm voice, he said, “Come out of them.”

Both men fell to their knees, but the evil spirits within cried, “Leave us alone, Son of the Most High! Do not torment us!”

“What is your name?” Yeh-shuah asked.

”Legion, for there are many of us here,” the evil spirits said. “Don’t send us into the Abyss! We beg of you! Send us into the herd of swine on the nearby mountainside!”

“Let it be so,” Yeh-shuah replied. Even as he was speaking, the entire herd of pigs went into a panic, squealing frantically, going around in circles. Soon, they all rushed headlong off the cliff into the sea and drowned.

Meanwhile, a remarkable change took place in the madmen. They were human again, and they praised Elo-heem for giving them back their minds. From the cliff, the swineherds saw everything and quickly ran home to tell everyone.

When the whole town came out to meet Yeh-shuah, they could hardly believe their eyes. There sat the two madmen fully clothed, listening to Yeh-shuah. “Please,” the townspeople begged, “Please get out of here.” Instead of gratitude for removing the terrors of the countryside, these people could only think of the financial loss of the pigs, fearing even worse losses.

As he stepped into the boat, the ex-madmen asked to come along, but Yeh-shuah told them to go to their homes and tell what Yehho-vaw did for them. This they did, and more, for they went throughout the Ten Towns, sharing what they knew of the good news Yeh-shuah taught them. They were living proof of the truth of his words.

Desert Prophet Silenced

On Hayro-dace’s birthday, a feast was given in his honor. There was much eating and drinking and entertainment. Wine flowed freely as Hayro-dee-as sent her daughter in to dance before the wealthy and important guests. She was a shapely young woman, and her sensuality captivated the senses of her audience. Hayro-dace was drunk, and, numbed by the pleasure and dazzled by the flickering lights, he thought to impress his guests by rewarding the beautiful young daughter of Hayro-dee-as.

“Beautiful daughter, ask of me anything you wish,” he announced after she was finished, “and even if it’s half of my kingdom, I will give it to you.”

She hurried in to her mother. “What should I ask for, mother?”

“Ask him for the head of Yo-hawn Baptace,” she ordered coldly.

“But mother,” she objected to the gruesome thought, “that’s awful!”

“I command you to ask for his head on a dinner plate!” Hayro-dee-as snarled.

The daughter stood before Hayro-dace. In a trembling voice she made her request, “I wish to have the head of Yo-hawn Baptace on a dinner plate.”

The laughter in the room suddenly ceased. Hayro-dace sat there horrified as the room grew silent. Although some of the guests had come especially to hear the powerful preaching of Yo-hawn Baptace, they were all too drunk to object to the oath made in their honor. No one spoke up in defense of the doomed man, so after a painful silence, Hayro-dace reluctantly commanded the execution of the prophet.

Yo-hawn heard footsteps and saw the glare of an oil lamp. He stood up in surprise when the door was unlocked and thrown open. Strong arms took hold of the chain around his neck and led him up into the moonlit night. Wordlessly they walked on until one of the guards stopped him and ordered, “Kneel!” He kneeled, and his head was shoved onto a large block of wood. He glanced sideways and saw a dark form carrying a large sword coming towards him. He raised his eyes and noted a bright star just above the rooftops. The footsteps stopped beside him, the sword was raised high, then everything went black.

Yo-hawn Baptace’s head was brought to Hayro-dee-as who exulted over it with fiendish satisfaction. However, her revenge brought no joy, for the rest of her life was spent in infamy. As long as he lived, Hayro-dace never found relief from a guilty conscience.

Give Them Food

One morning Yeh-shuah slipped away from the crowds and went with his disciples in their boat to spend a few rare moments in solitude. No one said much as they enjoyed the undisturbed quiet, just taking it easy.

From their spot away from the shore, Yeh-shuah could see many hundreds of people milling about, wondering where he was. The crowd kept growing until finally Yeh-shuah stood up and commented, “They’re like sheep without a shepherd. Let’s go back.”

He returned to them, then spent the rest of the day bringing joy and health. Time passed, and as Yeh-shuah looked up at the late afternoon sun, weary and hungry, his disciples urged him to quit for the day. He kept at it, though, until at last his disciples asked, “Please, Master, send the people away so they can buy food in the nearby towns and villages.”

“Give them some food yourselves,” Yeh-shuah said matter-of-factly. He turned to Filip and asked, “Where can we buy bread so everyone can eat?”

Incredulous, Filip looked at the crowd surrounding them and exclaimed, “Even two hundred dollar’s worth of bread wouldn’t be nearly enough to feed everyone!”

Filip hadn’t answered the question. Yeh-shuah turned to the others and asked, “How much food did you find among the people?”

There’s a boy here,” Andre spoke up, “who has five loaves of barley bread and a couple of dried fish, but what’s that among so many?”

“Bring them here,” Yeh-shuah replied, “and while Andre is doing that, the rest of you can seat everyone in groups of fifty or a hundred.” When everyone was seated, Yeh-shuah took the food and gave thanks to Elo-heem. As he broke the bread, it multiplied in his hands, and he gave it to his disciples who kept passing it around.

“This is unbelievable!” his disciples exclaimed. “Over five thousand people have eaten the bread and fish and are full!” Yeh-shuah had them gather up the leftovers: twelve large basketsful in all.

When the people saw that Yeh-shuah could not only heal the sick but also feed thousands from virtually nothing, they knew for certain that this was the great Deliverer. He could heal the wounded in battle and feed whole armies with no trouble at all.

A surge of emotion ran through the great crowd. “If he won’t make himself king,” many, even the disciples, said, “then let’s do it for him! We’ll force the priests and rulers to honor the Chosen One of Elo-heem!” They were already making plans to accomplish this when Yeh-shuah, who knew what disastrous results their schemes would lead to, told his disciples to immediately return by boat to Kaw-fawr Nakh-oom.

“But Master,” they protested, “We don’t understand why you don’t want to be king.” Reluctantly they walked down to the boat, greatly disappointed at losing a golden opportunity to put their Master on the throne of Yissraw-ale. “We could have made him king then and there!” they grumbled when they were out of earshot.

Yeh-shuah dismissed the crowds and went up the mountain to pray.

Night Crossing II

“He’s not coming,” one of the disciples finally said while they waited down by the boat for Yeh-shuah to join them. Instead of leaving immediately in the boat when he told them, they remained on shore while he dismissed the crowds on the hillside overlooking the Sea of Gawlee-law. They were hoping he would come down soon because it was starting to get dark. Since he was still nowhere in sight, they finally climbed into the boat and shoved off for Kaw-fawr Nakh-oom. Disgusted with themselves for again not being persistent enough to make him king that afternoon, they failed to notice the changing weather over the Sea of Gawlee-law.

Suddenly, a gale struck, blasting at them with astonishing fury. “Oh, no!” someone exclaimed, “not again!” They fought courageously most of the night to reach their destination, normally only a few hours journey, but the wind drove them far off course. “This is it, brothers!” one of the men shouted as they finally realized the futility of using the oars. “This time we’re done for. If Yeh-shuah were here we’d all be safe!”

No sooner were the words spoken when they all saw it, a mysterious figure surrounded by a strange glow. It was coming towards them. Their hair stood on end and their knees began to shake as they let go of the oars. “It’s a ghost!” cried one of the disciples. “It’s Death, and it’s coming after us!” yelled another.

Closer and closer the eerie figure came, walking effortlessly on the surface of the surging waters. The figure was broadside to the boat now, a stone’s throw away. “It’s Yeh-shuah!” Petros shouted. “Yeh-shuah! Help! Save us!” the frightened men called out.

Yeh-shuah turned toward them and called out, “Everything’s alright, it’s me! Don’t be afraid!”

“Master!” Petros cried, “If it’s really you, tell me to come to you!”

“Come, Petros!” Yeh-shuah answered.

Petros kept his eyes on Yeh-shuah as he stepped out of the boat and onto the surface of the stormy sea. He was doing it! Several yards out he turned to see if the men in the boat were watching him when a large wave came between him and Yeh-shuah.

As soon as he lost sight of Yeh-shuah, he began to sink. He was up to his waist when he caught sight of him again, much closer now. “Master, save me!” Petros croaked.

He was nearly up to his neck when Yeh-shuah reached down and pulled him back up. “Why did you doubt?” Yeh-shuah asked, but Petros, dripping wet and shivering, didn’t answer. Together they walked up to the boat and stepped in. Petros didn’t feel much like bragging at the moment, so he remained silent.

As soon as Yeh-shuah sat down in the boat, the wind stopped and there before them lay their destination, Genay-saret, awakening in the early light of dawn. The disciples knelt down in front of Yeh-shuah and exclaimed, “You are in truth the Son of Elo-heem!”

Desertion!

After they were in Genay-saret for a while, Yeh-shuah went to the synagogue. Some of those present when the loaves and fish were passed out came up to him and asked, “Teacher, when did you come here?”

“You’ve come here because you’re after more bread,” Yeh-shuah answered after reading their minds. “You need to work for spiritual food, and this spiritual food is what I will give you.”

“What should we do to work for it, then?” they asked.

“It’s quite simple,” Yeh-shuah replied. “Believe in me.”

“Give us a sign so we can believe,” they said. “Mosheh gave our ancestors bread from the sky for forty years when they were in the desert.”

“I am the bread of life from Shaw-mah-yim,” he said. “Whoever comes to me and believes in me will not hunger or thirst. Whoever comes to me will not be turned away. On the Last Day, I will raise them up to live forever.”

When Yeh-shuah said this, some of the Yeh-oo-dee began grumbling among themselves saying, “This uneducated carpenter thinks he came from Elo-heem’s Land! His parents are peasants, and we all know the highly questionable circumstances of his birth.”

“You don’t need to murmur among yourselves,” Yeh-shuah said. “Only those drawn by the Father can come to me. Your ancestors ate manna in the desert, and they are all dead, but I am the Living Bread that has come from Elo-heem. Whoever eats this Bread will live forever. This Bread is my Body, and I will give it to the whole world.”

“How can he give us his own body to eat?” the Yeh-oo-dee argued, deliberately misinterpreting his metaphor.

“Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood,” Yeh-shuah continued, “there will be no life in you. Whoever eats this bread will live forever.”

“This is too much!” many exclaimed, even some of his followers. “We don’t need to listen to this kind of nonsense! Don’t you know it’s against the Law to eat blood? We’re leaving!” People began to get up and leave the synagogue, making a big production out of it.

The synagogue was nearly empty when Yeh-shuah turned to the Twelve and asked, “Do you want to leave, too?”

“There’s no one else to go to,” Petros answered. “You speak the words of everlasting life. We are convinced that you are the Son of Elo-heem.”

“I chose each one of you,” Yeh-shuah said, and then added, “yet, even one of you is evil.”

Transformation!

As sundown approached, Yeh-shuah called Petros, Yah-kobus, and Yo-hawn, and wearily led them on a steep, rocky path up a lonely mountain. At the top, they quietly watched the sunset. When darkness overtook them, Yeh-shuah stepped a few paces away from the others to be alone for a few minutes.

There, in the deepening mountain twilight, he felt an overwhelming loneliness. Long ago, in Shaw-mah-yim, he remembered being surrounded by strong bonds of friendship, but here, in this dark world, there were only misguided humans groping about in spiritual darkness. Even his closest friends here did not comprehend his mission.

Suddenly, a brilliant light illuminated his kneeling form. As he stood, raising his eyes upward, he looked through an opening into the Land of Elo-heem where a bright light blazed away on the summit of Elo-heem’s Holy Mountain-Throne. The light increased in intensity, and now, his face shone like the sun, and his clothes, rustling in the breeze, were a brilliant white. He stood there, looking like Elo-heem himself.

His three friends, who had long since fallen asleep, awoke, and through hands shielding their eyes, looked at the scene with astonishment. As their eyes became accustomed to the light, they could see Yeh-shuah talking to two beings of light.

When they heard the names of the other two beings, Mosheh and Elee-yah, the disciple’s fears left them, and now at last, they were convinced help had come to establish the long-awaited kingdom on earth. Unknown to them, though, the subject of conversation concerned the approaching events in Yehroo-shaw-lah-im. Mosheh, who died within sight of the Promised Land and was later given a new body, and Elee-yah, who never experienced death, were both acquainted with suffering and sorrow. They came to offer encouragement to Yeh-shuah.

While they were all standing there, a huge, brilliant cloud appeared close overhead and a voice that shook the mountain spoke: “This is my Son. Listen well to him!” It was too much for the three disciples. They fell to the ground with their faces hidden. When a familiar voice said to them, “Get up. Don’t be afraid.” They looked up and saw Yeh-shuah, alone, standing there in the moonlight.

Ladzaros

“Ladzaros is sick,” was the message Maria and Martha in Bayth-Anee-ah sent to Yeh-shuah. He and some of his followers were several days journey away in another town. Ladzaros was losing ground fast, and everyone feared he wouldn’t last much longer. He just lay there, very pale, hardly able to speak in a whisper. “He will come immediately to restore our brother,” Maria and Martha both agreed.

“His sickness is to show the power of Elo-heem, not the power of death,” was the mysterious reply Yeh-shuah sent back with the messenger. Yeh-shuah, along with his followers, remained where they were, healing sick people, until finally, two days later, he said to them, “Let’s go to Yeh-oo-daw.”

“But Master,” they objected, “The last time we were there the Yeh-oo-dee wanted your blood, and now you want to go there again?”

“If a person does the will of Elo-heem, his path is made safe,” he said. “If a person follows his own desires, doing what Elo-heem has not called him to do, he will stumble. We will be safe enough. I am going now, because Ladzaros has fallen asleep.”

“If he’s sleeping,” they suggested, “then maybe he’s getting better.”

“No,” Yeh-shuah replied solemnly, “Our friend Ladzaros is dead.”

After a moment of shocked silence, Tho-mas said, “Let’s go with Yeh-shuah to Bayth-Anee-ah, then, even if the Yeh-oo-dee down there kill us all.” All of the others agreed with him.

When they reached the town, they stopped at a shady, quiet place just off the main road, but still within hearing distance of the mourners at Ladzaros’ house. Besides disliking the huge display from the hired mourners, there were relatives and friends of the family there who hated Yeh-shuah. He wished to speak to the sisters away from the noise and confusion.

Only Martha heard the message of his arrival, and when she met him, she said in a quivering voice, “Master, he wouldn’t have died if you had come. But I do know that even now, whatever you ask of Elo-heem, He will do it for you.”
Yeh-shuah looked into her sad eyes and said, “Your brother will rise again.”

“Yes, in the resurrection at the last day,” she answered. “I know he will rise again at that time.”

“Martha, do you believe me when I say I am the Resurrection and the Life?”

“Yes, Master, I believe you are the Son of Elo-heem,” she replied.

“Good. Bring your sister to me, Martha,” he said.

When Maria left the room in a hurry, the Yeh-oo-dee leaders and mourners there followed her, thinking she was going to Ladzaros’ tomb to mourn. When she came to Yeh-shuah, she fell at his feet. “If you had come, my brother would still be alive,” she sobbed.

When he saw her weeping, along with all of the others, he was deeply touched, yet deeply troubled. Among those in the crowd who came with her were false mourners, Yeh-oo-dee leaders, who would soon be planning not only his own death, but also that of the one he was about to restore back to life. Angry at their hypocrisy, yet filled with a profound sadness, he kept his thoughts to himself in respect for the loved one kneeling at his feet. “Where have you put him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Master,” Maria answered.

On the way, with Maria and Martha crying softly at his side, great tears welled up and ran down his cheeks and splashed into the dust below. He wept, not for Ladzaros, soon to be restored, but for humanity, trapped in its misery. His sorrow was far beyond human sorrow, for he could see the tragic effects of men violating Elo-heem’s laws. He felt the grief of humanity from all ages and lands, and it weighed heavily upon his soul.

They all waited in front of a cave with a large stone rolled in front of the entrance. After his tears stopped, Yeh-shuah said, “Take away the stone.”

“No, Master,” Martha immediately objected, “the body has been there four days, and by now, the smell will be terrible!” Someone rolled the stone away anyway, and in the twilight inside, all could see the wrapped body, cold and silent in it rocky grave.

The mourners at last quieted down, and all looked on, wondering what was going to happen next. In a clear, loud voice, Yeh-shuah called out, “Ladzaros, come out!”
From within the tomb, still as death, something stirred.

Slowly the shrouded form sat up. Someone in the crowd screamed. The body stood stiffly up, shuffled its way to the entrance, then stopped when it reached the light of the afternoon sun. Yeh-shuah said to the astonished spectators, “Take his burial clothes off and let him go.”

Ladzaros blinked, looked around, and when his eyes met Yeh-shuah’s, he comprehended the scene, and knelt before him.

At first, speechless with amazement, the stunned crowd broke into shouts of joy and thanksgiving. Tears of happiness now flowed as Ladzaros, in full health, was hugged tightly by his sisters and friends.

Through their tears, both Maria and Martha turned to Yeh-shuah, and in halting, broken words, thanked him. They returned to their brother, and as they continued in their rejoicing, Yeh-shuah slipped away, unnoticed.

Simone’s Feast, Maria’s Gift

Simone (not Petros) was formerly a Faris-Ahyos, but now he was a follower of Yeh-shuah. Yeh-shuah healed him of leprosy, and now he was giving a feast in his honor to show his gratitude. On the way to Simone’s house in Yehroo-shaw-lah-im, Yeh-shuah stopped at his friend Ladzaros’ house in Bayth-Anee-ah to rest awhile.

Travelers going to Yehroo-shaw-lah-im for the Passover passed the word that Yeh-shuah was coming to town, along with Ladzaros, the dead man Yeh-shuah brought back to life. Many thought Yeh-shuah would be crowned king of Yissraw-ale during the Passover celebration. The same evening of Simone’s feast, the Faris-Ahyos called a secret council.

“He must be destroyed as soon as possible!” the high priest argued. “People are flocking to him like flies. We must take him secretly, convict him, and when the people find out he is a condemned man, they will desert him.”

“Then there’s the problem of Ladzaros,” another member of the secret council added. “He is living proof of the powerful magic Yeh-shuah possesses. If we value our future, and the future of Yissraw-ale, Ladzaros must die also.”

While dark plans were being laid against him, Yeh-shuah reached Simone’s house where he soon took his place at the table. Simone sat on one side of Yeh-shuah and Ladzaros on the other. Martha, Ladzaros’ sister, kept busy serving, while Maria sat nearby watching Yeh-shuah, listening carefully to every word he spoke.

Several weeks before, Yeh-shuah warned of his approaching death, and in profound sorrow, Maria purchased some expensive perfume to anoint his body when he died. Now, a rumor was spreading throughout the city that Yeh-shuah was about to be crowned king. Her sorrow turned to joy, and she could wait no longer to honor the One who forgave her unhappy past and brought her brother back from the grave.

As the meal and the conversation continued, she slipped quietly up to Yeh-shuah, broke open the alabaster box and poured some of its contents on his head and the rest on his feet. Then, as she knelt down she began to cry softly, letting her hot tears fall on his feet. She wiped the tears away with her long, beautiful hair. She hoped her actions would go unnoticed, but soon the room was filled with the pleasant fragrance.

Yewdas Ker-ee-yoth looked down at her, scowled, then turned to those sitting near him and whispered loudly, “Look at her. Why wasn’t that expensive perfume sold and the money given to the poor? See, she’s wasting it!” As Yewdas’ remarks were passed around the room, Maria overheard. She looked up at Yeh-shuah with a trembling heart and was about to burst into another round of tears, when he spoke up.

“Leave her alone,” he said to the complainers, “and don’t criticize her. She’s done a good thing for me. There will always be poor people on this earth, and you can help them out whenever you please, but you won’t always have me here. She’s done what she could to anoint me for burial.” His heart was gladdened with her demonstration of faith and love, and he would carry this memory with him through the great trials yet to come.

Yeh-shuah glanced around the room and his gaze fell on Yewdas, whose eyes narrowed as he looked quickly away. Yewdas wasn’t interested at all in the poor, only in using the disciple’s money he kept for his own purposes. Yewdas knew that Yeh-shuah knew, but Yeh-shuah never said a word.

Embarrassed at the reproof, Yewdas’ heart burned with resentment. He quickly got up and left, determined to get revenge. He went straight to the high priest’s palace where the secret council was still in progress. He left a few minutes later with thirty more pieces of silver jingling in his money bag.

Yeh-shuah looked at Simone and picked up thoughts. He was one of his disciples, yet still tainted with the Faris-Ahyos attitude. “If he’s really a prophet,” Simone thought, “he would know what kind of woman was touching him!” There sat Simone, whom Yeh-shuah cured of leprosy, now doubting if Yeh-shuah was a prophet because he didn’t spurn the woman at his feet.

“Simone,” Yeh-shuah said as he looked straight at him. “There once was a man who was owed five hundred dollars by one man and fifty dollars by another. Neither of them could pay, so he forgave them both. Which one appreciated it more?”

“The man who was forgiven most, I suppose,” Simone answered.

“That’s correct,” Yeh-shuah agreed. “When I came into your house,” Yeh-shuah continued, “no one gave me water to wash my feet, but this woman washed my feet with her tears, then wiped them with her hair. You did not greet me with the kiss of brotherhood, but she hasn’t stopped kissing my feet. This woman, whose sins are many, is forgiven, and she loves much. When there’s little forgiven, there’s little reason to love.”

The truth hit Simone, and he dropped his eyes. Maria was forgiven while he didn’t even seek it. He wished to condemn her, while it was he who stood condemned. Humbled, Simone began the first step in a long journey to becoming a better man.

On a Colt

Yeh-shuah was traveling to Yehroo-shaw-lah-im with his disciples for the Passover. As they neared the city, he mounted a donkey colt. Just then, a large crowd met them, waving palm branches and shouting “Yaw-shah-na to the Son of Daw-veed!” They were happy because they believed Yeh-shuah was about to become the new king of Yissraw-ale.

As they descended Olive Mountain, he stopped and looked down at the peaceful city below. There, surrounded by gardens and vineyards and green hills, rose the terraces, stately palaces, and massive walls of the nation’s capital. The beautiful temple gleamed like snow in the afternoon sun as the nearby hills echoed the many happy voices. Suddenly, everyone grew quiet. They looked at Yeh-shuah. He was crying.

The tears were not for himself, but for the thousands who were going to die during the siege of Yehroo-shaw-lah-im, doomed because they would not turn from their evil ways and believe in him. He saw the city surrounded by marching armies, and heard the starving mother’s and children’s cries for bread. He saw the city destroyed and the beautiful temple reduced to smoldering ruins.

His tears were not for Yehroo-shaw-lah-im alone. He saw in the city a symbol of the world, hardened in unbelief and rebellion. He traced the results of sin in the long record of human misery, tears, and blood. His heart was full of compassion for the suffering and the afflicted ones of earth, and he wanted to heal them all. He was willing to die for their sins, but few would come to him that they might have life. Even he, the Son of the Infinite Elo-heem, could not save the guilty from the results of violating the Law of Elo-heem.

For three years, Yeh-shuah went about doing good, healing the sick, the brokenhearted, the blind, the deaf, the lepers, and raising the dead. He preached the good news of the Kingdom of the Stars to the poor, and set free the captives of Saw-tawn. He never turned anyone away who came to him for help. To everyone he said, “Come to me all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest.”

Though poor and homeless, he lived to meet the needs of others, to brighten their lives, and to offer them the gift of life. For all the good he did, the religious leaders rewarded him with evil, and for the love he gave he was hated. Yet, even though he was insulted, ridiculed, and rejected, he never gave up. For the stubborn hearts that resisted, his love returned even stronger, pleading with them to accept the gift of Life.

The Yeh-oo-dee religious leaders hated him because his life of purity revealed their own corruption. They claimed to obey Elo-heem’s Law, yet they violated all of its principles. Believing they were Elo-heem’s chosen people, they expected him to deliver them from their enemies. They blamed Yeh-shuah for all of their troubles, but their problems were caused only by their own sins.

If Yeh-shuah were dead, they thought, Yissraw-ale could once again unite and become a strong nation. But now, the black clouds of apostasy and rebellion were about to burst on a guilty people. The leaders were planning to kill the only person who could save them. If Yissraw-ale had kept her allegiance to Elo-heem, Yehroo-shaw-lah-im would have stood forever, but when Yeh-shuah hung from the cross, Yissraw-ale’s favor with Elo-heem would end.

In the Garden

With his disciples, Yeh-shuah slowly walked up the road to the Garden of Gethsay-manay. A Passover moon shone from a cloudless sky. As they neared their destination, Yeh-shuah became strangely silent. Already he was beginning to feel the weight of the guilt of the transgressions of the world being laid upon himself.

Near the entrance, Yeh-shuah left some of the disciples, telling them, “Spend this time in prayer.” He went to a secluded spot in the garden, taking with him Petros, Yah-kobus, and Yo-hawn. Many times had they came to this place.
While Yeh-shuah prayed through the night, they would usually sleep until he awakened them in the morning.

“Stay here and keep watch with me tonight,” Yeh-shuah asked them. He went a short distance away, still within hearing distance, and fell forward onto the ground. The darkness within was growing worse. The gulf of separation from his Father grew rapidly and his Spirit shuddered before it.

The very people chosen to receive knowledge of the truth had perverted it and rejected its foundation, himself. One of his most able disciples was about to betray him. One of his most loyal disciples was about to deny even knowing him with curses. All of them would desert him to save their own lives, leaving him to face death alone. The nation he loved and came to help hated him, and only wanted him dead.

“Oh, my Father,” he agonized, “if it is possible, let there be another way. But even if there isn’t, I will still follow your plan.”

Now he felt the need for some sympathy from other humans, so with great effort, he got up and returned to the three nearby for some words of encouragement. “Petros, Yah-kobus, Yo-hawn!” he called. “Wake up!” Yeh-shuah hoped they would be praying for strength and courage. Disappointed in their lack of determination, he asked, “Couldn’t you watch with me for one hour? You must watch and pray to resist temptation. The Spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”

The disciples awoke when he spoke to them, but they were too drowsy to answer. Vaguely, they wondered why he was in such a state of distress, and soon they were sound asleep again.

Yeh-shuah returned to the place where he had been praying and fell forward again in agony of spirit. The great black gulf separating him from his Father was growing even wider. The temptation to turn back and let all men die because of their own sins flashed through his mind. He could just get up and leave, and return to the Father in the Land of Elo-heem. “If I die in human form, I will never be what I once was, and I will bear the scars of humanity forever,” he thought. He was silent for a time, then said, “Oh my Father, if there is no other way to save these humans, except by me, then let it be so.”

Three times he prayed that prayer. “No, there is no other way,” he reasoned. “Left to themselves, they will all die. They are so helpless, while the forces of evil are so strong.” He remembered seeing the smoke of the world’s future destruction. He remembered the Land of Elo-heem, with its purity and happiness, where humans could have a place if only he made the ultimate sacrifice and paid the price for their transgressions.

“When innocent blood is shed for the guilty, then shall evil be banished from the universe forever”, he recalled. “If there is no other way,” he said, “then I will do it.”

After he said this, his arms gave way and he collapsed onto the ground, near death. So intense had his superhuman agony been that drops of blood formed where there should have been sweat.

Suddenly, what looked like a window in the sky to another world opened. A warm, golden light shone on his face and a powerful Messenger, the same one who stood before Elo-heem himself, came to comfort Yeh-shuah and offer encouragement. “The power of the Father is greater than the power of the Evil One,” he reminded Yeh-shuah. “Your sacrifice for the human race will be accepted.”

“I must be dreaming,” Petros muttered, only half awake. The other two disciples saw through half-opened eyes what awoke Petros: a bright light shining on their Master. A Messenger was bending over his form, raising his head so that he could look through the window into the Land of Elo-heem.

The Messenger spoke in a voice that sounded like the most beautiful music. They slowly drifted back into sleep as the scene faded from their view. It was the sixth day of the week.

Betrayed!

Strengthened, Yeh-shuah stood up and walked over to his disciples. “Sleep on, and get your rest,” he said. “The time for my betrayal is near.” Even as he spoke, he heard the footsteps of the search party mob. “Wake up!” Yeh-shuah cried. “They’re here now.”

A large group of priests, rulers, soldiers, and rabble, many carrying torches and weapons, caught sight of them and stormed over.

“Who are you looking for?” Yeh-shuah asked.

“Yeh-shuah of Nad-zorah,” they answered.

“I am he,” he replied.

When he said this, the Messenger he spoke with earlier appeared between him and the mob. Yeh-shuah’s face was brilliantly illuminated, and a pure, golden light in the form of a large bird in flight hovered over him.

When the Messenger appeared, everyone in the mob, priests, elders, and soldiers, staggered back and fell to the ground, paralyzed. After the Messenger left and the light faded away, the disciples looked with awe on the helpless crowd surrounding them. “We can escape, now!” they thought, but Yeh-shuah just stood there, calm and unafraid.

One by one, their would-be captors picked up their torches and weapons and got to their feet. “What happened?” they asked among themselves, embarrassed at their weakness. When they saw Yeh-shuah and his disciples still there they said, “Don’t let them escape!”

“Who are you looking for?” Yeh-shuah asked again.
“Yeh-shuah of Nad-zorah,” they repeated.

“I’ve already told you that I am he,” Yeh-shuah said. “If it’s me you’re after, then let my friends go.”

Yewdas stepped forward out of the crowd, and acting like the best of friends, he took Yeh-shuah’s hand and kissed his cheek repeatedly in greeting, saying, “Hail, Master.” He even appeared to be weeping as if in sympathy with him in his danger.

“Friend,” Yeh-shuah asked Yewdas, “why have you come?” With a trembling voice he added, “Yewdas, are you betraying me with a kiss?” Yewdas stopped pretending and just stood there with a stony expression on his face, glaring at him.

When the soldiers saw Yeh-shuah kissed by Yewdas, they took hold of him and began tying his hands behind his back with some rope. Indignant with them for even touching his Master, Petros pulled out his sword and started swinging. During the struggle, he managed to cut off someone’s ear.

When Yeh-shuah saw what was happening, he easily pulled his arms away from the guards holding him and touched the mutilated ear of the high priest’s servant. Instantly, it returned to its original state. “Petros,” Yeh-shuah admonished, “put your sword away. Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword. Don’t you realize that I could ask my Father and he would give me more than twelve legions of the powerful Malawk?”

“Then why is he just standing there,” his disciples thought, “not doing anything to resist?”

“The Ancient Writings must be fulfilled, and that is why I have come to your world,” Yeh-shuah answered their unspoken thoughts. He turned and looked directly at the priests and rulers grouped together. “You come after me with swords and spears as you would after a dangerous criminal. When I was there every day teaching in the Temple you could have taken me then, but you did nothing. Night is better suited for your work. This hour belongs to you and the powers of darkness.” Then he allowed himself to be tied up, even though it was against Yeh-oo-dee law to tie up anyone not convicted of a crime.

“Look,” Petros said to the other disciples. “He’s not going to save himself! They’re going to kill him and us, too. Let’s get out of here, fast!” So in fear, they ran for their lives. Yeh-shuah, with his arms tied behind his back, was rushed off alone into the night through the sleeping city.

Before the Council

The mob took Yeh-shuah to Annas, the former High Priest, and father-in-law of the present High Priest. Annas’ cunning was well known, and in deference to his age and experience, Yeh-shuah was brought to his house in a preliminary trial. This, too, was violating Yeh-oo-dee law by conducting a trial at night.

Two charges needed to be proved against Yeh-shuah to secure his execution. If the charge of blasphemy could be proved, the Yeh-oo-dee could pass the death sentence under Yeh-oo-dee law. If the charge of treason were proved, the Rom-ah-yos government could have him executed by their law. Under Rom-ah-yos law, the Yeh-oo-dee Council could only examine and pass judgment on prisoners. Every sentence must be ratified by Rom-ah-yos authorities.

“We know that you have established a secret society that plans to overthrow the Rom-ah-yos government,” Annas charged.

“I speak openly to the world,” Yeh-shuah replied. “I have taught in the synagogues and the Temple before the Yeh-oo-dee. In secret have I said nothing.” He thought of the spies that always followed him since he healed the paraplegic by the pool of Bayth-Essdah. “Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard me.”

Suddenly, Yeh-shuah’s head jerked sideways as an officer slapped him hard. “Is that anyway to speak to the High Priest?” he bellowed.

Annas knew that Yeh-shuah knew about the spies following him in hopes of entrapping him to substantiate any charges against him. He also knew that the midnight seizure and abuse before even being condemned was in violation of the law. By their own rules, one should be treated as innocent until proven guilty. The ex-High Priest was silent as he considered the matter.

“If I said something wrong,” Yeh-shuah spoke calmly, “show it, but if I spoke the truth, why did you hit me?” After this, the human race he created abused and insulted him. Under the control of the Evil One, they acted like fiends.

Yeh-shuah knew that he could destroy them in an instant with just a word, and this made the trial more difficult to bear. The Yeh-oo-dee were looking for a Promised One to come who had real power. It was tempting to satisfy their curiosity. But no, he made a pledge from the foundation of the world: He must endure the cruel treatment of the humans he came to save.

“Take him to Kah-yafas,” Annas ordered, even though unable to find any suitable charges to substantiate.

Secret Trial

Kah-yafas, the High Priest, looked down from his throne in the council room. The place was lit by lanterns and torches in the early morning darkness. This was a preliminary session of the Ruling Council. Only a few members were present, called to determine charges suitable for condemnation of the man they hated. Unaware of the events taking place, and notably absent in the midnight trial, were Nikko Daymos, and Yosafe from Aree-math-ah-yah. Previously, they managed to prevent any trial for Yeh-shuah by defending the rights of the accused.

Yeh-shuah stood fearless before Kah-yafas, and with a noble bearing that struck admiration in the hearts of those present. Kah-yafas knew he had to get this man condemned within a few hour’s time, otherwise news of the arrest would spread and a rescue might be attempted. If the trial and execution were delayed until the week of Passover was finished, the Ruling Council might stand condemned before a general uprising, and Yeh-shuah, after being released, would rise to new heights of popularity. Although the high priest was supposed to pass judgment after examining the accusing witnesses, he violated Yeh-oo-dee laws to protect the innocent by actively attempting to find some reason to condemn Yeh-shuah.

“Perform one of your mighty miracles for us!” Kah-yafas sneered. Yeh-shuah didn’t appear to hear him. “I said, perform one of your mighty miracles for us this morning,” he barked. Still no response from Yeh-shuah. Kah-yafas found himself wondering how a man of such god-like bearing could be condemned for anything. “Then call the witnesses forward,” he said testily.

One bribed witness after another appeared, and no two had the same story when questioned closely. “He said he was going to destroy the Temple and rebuild it in three days,” one said. None of the accusations could be used to prove to the Rom-ah-yos that Yeh-shuah should be executed. The other witnesses were getting more and more confused, though, and the trial was making no headway. Yeh-shuah so far hadn’t said one word to defend himself.

Suddenly, there was a disturbance at the far entrance. Someone was cursing loudly. Yeh-shuah recognized the voice.

Three Denials

It was Petros. After they ran from the Garden of Gethsay-manay, Petros and Yo-hawn followed the mob at a distance until they reached the palace grounds. At the entrance, the priests recognized Yo-hawn and let him in, hoping the young man would renounce his Teacher when he saw him so humiliated. Yo-hawn spoke up for Petros, who also gained entrance.

Yo-hawn went into the council room and found a corner out of sight of the crowd. Petros stayed outside in the courtyard, warming himself by the fire, trying to pretend he wasn’t associated with the man on trial.

When the lady who kept the door saw his face in the firelight, she remembered he had come in with Yo-hawn. He had such a sorrowful expression on his face, that she asked out of curiosity, “Aren’t you one of his disciples?”

Startled, Petros felt the eyes of everyone around the fire looking at him. He pretended not to hear her. She persisted, and at last he answered in exasperation, “Look lady, I don’t know him!” In the distance, a rooster crowed its welcome to the dawn.

Another girl saw him standing there and recognized him, saying, “This fellow was with Yeh-shuah of Nad-zorah.”

He denied it with cussword and said, “I don’t know the man!”

An hour later, while Petros was talking to someone in the entryway, a relative of the man whose ear he had cut off exclaimed, “Didn’t I see you in the garden with him? You must be one of them. I recognize your Gawlee-lee accent.”

Petros flew into a rage, swearing loudly and yelling, “I don’t know the man!” Immediately, another rooster crowed, and Petros remembered the words of Yeh-shuah, “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” Petros ran outside, burst into tears, fell to the ground, and wished he were dead.

Secret Trial, cont.

“This is ridiculous!” Kah-yafas complained, after the commotion at the entrance quieted down. In desperation, he asked Yeh-shuah directly, “Aren’t you going to say anything in your defense? What about all these testimonies against you?” Kah-yafas was met with silence. “I ask you in the name of Elo-heem, are you the Promised One, the King of Yissraw-ale, and the Son of the Most High?”

Yeh-shuah knew a truthful answer now would mean certain death, but he couldn’t refuse an appeal in the name of his Father. The court room became silent, and every eye was on him.

“I am,” he spoke with courage. “After this, you will see me at the right hand of the Mighty One, coming in the clouds in the sky overhead.”

Startled at first at the thought, Kah-yafas became maddened with satanic fury. Tearing his robe in pretended horror, another violation of the law of Mosheh, he demanded, “Do we need more witnesses? Now you have all heard his blasphemy! What do you think?”

“Blasphemy! Blasphemy!” shouted everyone in the council room except Yo-hawn.

“This trial will proceed in daylight before a full session of the council,” Kah-yafas said as he dismissed everyone. By law, a prisoner could not be tried at night, but even so, Yeh-shuah was treated as a condemned criminal. The Temple guards led him out of the courtroom and across the courtyard to the guardroom. The courtyard was filled with people and soldiers mocking, jeering, and spitting. It was a great discouragement to be surrounded by so much hatred, but what cut him to the heart was the knowledge that one of his closest disciples had just denied even knowing him.

Daylight finally arrived, and Yeh-shuah again stood before the Ruling Council. “Are you the Promised One, the King?” they asked.

Silence.

They continued asking questions until finally, mournfully, he answered, “If I tell you, you won’t believe. If I ask you something, you will not answer or let me go. After this is over, the Son of Man will sit at the right hand of Elo-heem.”

“Are you the Son of Elo-heem?” they asked.

“You speak the truth when you say that I am,” Yeh-shuah answered.

Guilty!

“We have heard it from himself, then,” Kah-yafas said. “Do we need anymore witnesses? It has been decided, then. This man is guilty. The sentence for blasphemy of Elo-heem is death.”

“Wait!” a hoarse voice rang out through the courtroom. The tall, handsome form of Yewdas ran forward and grabbed Kah-yafas by his robe. “This man is innocent!” he croaked. “I have betrayed innocent blood!” Kah-yafas shook himself free. “I have sinned!” Yewdas cried again. “I have betrayed innocent blood!”

“What’s that to us?” Kah-yafas growled. “Get out of here!”
Yewdas threw down the thirty pieces of silver he had been paid as an informer. He knelt before Yeh-shuah. “Save yourself,” he begged. “I didn’t think it would go this far!”

Yeh-shuah looked down at him sadly and said, “This is why I have come into your world.”

Yewdas picked himself up, and filled with a deep horror, rushed from the courtroom.

“I repeat,” Kah-yafas said loudly, “This man is guilty. The sentence for blasphemy is death. This Council is dismissed!”

In front of the priests and rulers, the ignorant rabble roared like wild beasts and rushed Yeh-shuah, crying, “Guilty! Guilty! Kill him! Kill him!” Were it not for the Rom-ah-yos guards, the frenzied attackers would have torn Yeh-shuah apart right there in the Council room.

The Rom-ah-yos officers present were very upset at the brutal treatment of someone who had not been given a legal or fair trial. “It’s against your own law that a man cannot be condemned to death upon his own testimony,” one of the Rom-ah-yos officials reminded the Council after he quieted everyone down. “Only Rom-ah has the power to condemn a man to death.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Even the priests and rulers cursed Yeh-shuah and reminded him of his questionable birth. Someone threw an old robe over Yeh-shuah’s head and others hit him as they said, “Prophesy, O Promised One! Who just hit you?” After the robe was taken off, one old man spat directly into his face.

Hall of Judgment, Part One

Pil-atos, the Rom-ah-yos Governor of Yeh-oo-daw, stood sternly in front of the Hall of Judgment, unhappy at being summoned at such an early hour. The hearing was being held outside of the hall because of some Yeh-oo-dee ceremonial law. The Yeh-oo-dee would have defiled themselves if they went inside a gentile government building the week before the Feast of Passover. Now he was in a bad mood.

When the prisoner stood before him, Pil-atos glared at the man’s captors, then gazed searchingly at the prisoner. Unlike any other criminal brought before him, this man had a kind face and a noble bearing. Absent were any signs of guilt, fear, or defiance. His wife said this man could cure the sick and raise the dead.

“Who is this man, and what accusations do you bring against him?” Pil-atos demanded of the Yeh-oo-dee standing before him.

“He’s a liar called Yeh-shuah, from Nad-zorah,” they answered.

Again Pil-atos asked, “What are the charges against him?”

“If he weren’t a criminal, we wouldn’t have brought him here,” the priests answered indignantly. They were hoping Pil-atos would sign the death warrant as casually as he had done so many times before. Whether the victim was innocent or guilty was often unimportant to him.

“That’s not good enough,” he growled.

“He’s against paying taxes,” the priests lied. “He’s a troublemaker and claims to be a king.”

Pil-atos sensed the Yeh-oo-dee rulers wanted this man out of their way. Thinking he was probably innocent, he turned to Yeh-shuah and said, “Are you the king of the Yeh-oo-dee?”

“It is as you say,” Yeh-shuah replied.

Immediately, angry shouts broke out from the priests and rulers, demanding his death. The rest of the crowd joined in denouncing him. Pil-atos looked at the Yeh-oo-dee shouting ugly things, then looked at Yeh-shuah, standing calmly, untouched by the waves of anger washing around him.

Astonished at his serenity in facing the crowd’s ferocity, Pil-atos took Yeh-shuah off to a quieter place inside the Hall of Judgment to question him privately. “Are you in truth the king of the Yeh-oo-dee?” he repeated.

“Do you ask this because of the others, or because of your own interest?” was Yeh-shuah’s reply.

“Am I a Yeh-oo-dee that I should care anything about it?” Pil-atos snorted. He vehemently dismissed an instant of conviction. “Your people brought you here to me as a prisoner. So, what have you done?” he asked.

“My kingdom is not from this world,” Yeh-shuah answered. “If it were, my followers would fight to rescue me.”

“You really are a king, then?” Pil-atos asked.

“Those are your words,” Yeh-shuah answered. “I was born into this world to teach the Truth, and only those who seek truth can understand what I say.”

“What is Truth?” Pil-atos asked wistfully. How could he find what this unusual man had to offer? The noisy shouts outside brought him back to the present. He stepped outside to face the crowd and announced, “I find no fault in this man.”

The rage of the priests and elders exploded and they threatened Pil-atos himself, fearing he was going to release Yeh-shuah. Reluctant to make so many bitter enemies, he recalled that Yeh-shuah was from Gawlee-law, under Hayro-dace’s jurisdiction. If he sent him to Hayro-dace, the responsibility would no longer be his.

Before Hayro-dace

Yeh-shuah stood bound before Hayro-dace along with a large group of priests and elders. “Silence!” the king ordered. The confusion of accusations suddenly ceased. “Untie this man!” he demanded. “Why has he been treated so roughly,” he barked. He immediately perceived, just as Pil-atos did, that Yeh-shuah was falsely accused out of hatred and jealousy.

Hayro-dace couldn’t persuade Yeh-shuah to speak a single word. He brought sick and disabled people before him to be healed.

Nothing happened.

“You can go a free man if you show me some of your supernatural powers,” he entreated.

Silence.

He threatened him, saying, “I have the power to release or condemn you, so perform a miracle for me.”

Still no response.

Irritated, he shouted, “You’re just an imposter! Perhaps the crowd will make you speak!” Hardly were the words spoken when Yeh-shuah was rushed and dragged back and forth with Hayro-dace shouting out insults. But the Rom-ah-yos soldiers who were part of the escort drew their weapons and scattered the frenzied mob, saving the prisoner from being torn apart.

Then Hayro-dace had an idea. “Get a robe and put it around him,” he ordered. Clothed in a fine purple robe, Yeh-shuah was mocked, ridiculed, and abused. Curiously, though, some of those who came forward to bow before him turned back before they reached him, afraid and silenced. Hayro-dace himself, convicted that this was no ordinary human, was afraid to condemn him. He sent Yeh-shuah back to Pil-atos to avoid the responsibility.

Hall of Judgment, Part Two

Displeased at their return, Pil-atos reminded the Yeh-oo-dee that their prisoner had already been shown to have done nothing worthy of the death penalty. Even Hayro-dace, a Yeh-oo-dee himself, came to the same conclusion. “I will have him whipped, then release him,” Pil-atos thought, even though he knew Yeh-shuah was innocent of any wrongdoing.

His wife’s dream came to mind, and he winced, involuntarily. In her dream she saw him give Yeh-shuah over to his accusers, and saw him die at the hands of evil men. She saw the earth enveloped in darkness and heard a loud cry, “It is finished!”

In the next part of her dream she saw Yeh-shuah standing on what looked like clouds while the earth below shook violently. She saw his murderers trying to hide from the overwhelming power of his presence. She screamed in terror, awakening her husband.

While Pil-atos hesitated, a messenger handed him a note from his wife. It read, “Don’t have anything to do with that man. I have suffered much because of the dream.” He grew pale. “What should I do,” he wondered. Then an idea came to him.

“It is the custom to release a prisoner at the Feast of Passover,” he said hopefully. “Shall I release Bar-abbus, or Yeh-shuah called the Maw-shee-akh?”

“Give us Bar-abbus!” bellowed the crowd, and the chant began, “Bar-abbus! Bar-abbus! Bar-abbus!”

Again, Pil-atos asked, “Shall I release the King of the Yeh-oo-dee?”

“Away with him! Give us Bar-abbus!” they roared.

“And what shall I do with Yeh-shuah the Promised One?”

“Crucify him!” they screamed like demons. “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Pil-atos was deeply troubled. He hoped things wouldn’t have come to this point. “Why should I let this innocent man be executed?” he thought. “Why?” he said. “What has he done?”

“Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!” they screamed, wilder than ever, sensing Pil-atos’ indecision. He raised his hands in despair and waved the soldiers to take Yeh-shuah to be whipped in sight of the crowd.

Hail to the King!

After the whipping, Yeh-shuah was again taken into the Hall of Judgment. The guards put a royal purple robe on him, gave him a reed for a scepter, and a crown of made of thorny branches. “Hail, O King of the Yeh-oo-dee dogs!” one of the guards sneered as the soldiers saluted him, then laughed and spit on him. “How does this feel, your Highness?” one of them said as he took the reed scepter and beat the thorny crown with it, forcing the thorns to penetrate deeper. Blood trickled down his face and beard. Yeh-shuah stood there like a fortress, though, as far above humanity as his tormentors were below.

Both Yeh-shuah and Bar-abbus were brought outside before Pil-atos. Bar-abbus was a criminal, under sentence of death for attempting to overthrow the Rom-ah-yos government. He claimed to be the true Promised One, the One who would set Yissraw-ale free. In reality, he was a notorious thief and a sadistic murderer.

“Look,” Pil-atos said, “Here is the Man. He has done nothing wrong.” The contrast between the two prisoners was striking. Yeh-shuah’s face showed exhaustion and pain. Stripped to the waist, his back oozed blood from the long whip marks. Bar-abbus stood beside him with a cold expression and darting eyes.

In the moment of silence following Pil-atos’ entreaty, everyone there began to sense the truth of Yeh-shuah’s claims. Some of the guards now looked sympathetically at Yeh-shuah, then muttered curses at Bar-abbus. “He’s the one who deserves to die,” they grumbled.

The priests started up the manic chant again, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” and the rest of the crowd soon joined in.

The Sentence

Exasperated, Pil-atos cried out in despair, “Take him and crucify him, then! But I find no fault in him.”

As Pil-atos stood and looked at Yeh-shuah, a thought crossed his mind. He took Yeh-shuah inside the Hall of Judgment again. “Where did you come from?” he asked, while the thought that he might have come from another world persisted.

Silence.

Yeh-shuah already offered the Truth and Pil-atos disregarded it. “Don’t you know I could release you or crucify you?” he asked incredulously.

“You wouldn’t have any power against me at all if it were not given to you from another place,” Yeh-shuah answered. After a pause, he continued, “The one who brought me to you has done the greater wrong.” Pil-atos didn’t realize he was referring to Kah-yafas, the High Priest of the Yeh-oo-dee, who, like so many other leaders, rejected his claims and the plain evidence of his true nature.

Back outside, still extremely reluctant to condemn Yeh-shuah, he again proposed to release him. “If you do,” the chief priests warned, “you are an enemy of the Kai-sar. Whoever makes himself a king is against the Kai-sar.”

Pil-atos knew that if the ruling Kai-sar back in Rom-ah ever found out that he released a self-proclaimed king, it would mean the end of his career as governor. “Shall I crucify your king?” he asked in a tired voice.”

“We have no king but Kai-sar!” the mob answered in chorus.

“You filthy liars,” Pil-atos muttered under his breath. He knew the Yeh-oo-dee despised the Rom-ah-yos and their occupation of Yissraw-ale. He also knew that if he did release Yeh-shuah, their revenge would be certain, bitter, and long lasting.

He took a basin of water, and in front of the mob, he washed his hands. “Bear witness of me today, I am innocent of this man’s blood. Take him and crucify him, but mark my words, he is a just man.” Turning to Yeh-shuah, he said, “Forgive me for doing this. I cannot save you.” He wanted to free him, but to keep his worldly power, he must sacrifice an innocent life.

“May his blood be on us and our children!” Kah-yafas answered defiantly. Soon, everyone in the crowd repeated his words in an ugly roar of voices.

The Crucifixion

After the sentencing, a great crowd followed the procession taking Yeh-shuah and the others to be executed. At the outer gate of the palace court, Bar-abbus’ crossbar was laid on Yeh-shuah’s shoulders.

It was too heavy.

Yeh-shuah, who had no food or drink for days, who was beaten and whipped, staggered and fell under the load and couldn’t get up. The guards jerked him up and put the cross back onto his shoulders.

Again he fell beneath the heavy load. No one was there to help him.

“Hey, you. You’re going to carry this!” the guards said as they seized a passerby, Simone of Kooray-nah. They forced him to pick up Yeh-shuah’s cross and drag it to the Place of the Skull. On the way, they passed a body, hanging from a tree, swaying in the wind. It was the body of Yewdas, who hung himself in despair after returning the blood money to the priests.

At the Place of the Skull, the guards hammered the prisoners down to their crosses. The two thieves struggled to escape their punishment, but Yeh-shuah was quiet, offering no resistance, even as the spikes were driven through his hands and feet.

After the three were nailed down, the soldiers tilted up the crosses and shoved them violently into the holes made for them. Yeh-shuah closed his eyes and winced from the intense agony the jolting caused him. Over his head hung a sign, “The King of the Yeh-oo-dee,” in ridicule and warning.

As he hung up above the crowds, many nearby sneered and ridiculed him in their hellish unbelief: “If you’re really the Son of Elo-heem, why don’t you save yourself?”

His followers and family, extremely distressed that he hadn’t used his supernatural powers to rescue himself, could scarcely comprehend the disastrous turn of events. They knew he could have effortlessly destroyed his enemies with and saved himself, but they didn’t realize that he was there to pay a debt. Nothing would weaken his determination, not even the mean-spirited vindictiveness of the human race he was dying for.

As the day wore on, one of the thieves hanging next to Yeh-shuah at last repented of his past evil life. He had heard of Yeh-shuah before he was caught stealing, but the priests and religious leaders rejected his teachings, and he followed their example. He was with Yeh-shuah at the sentencing and on the road to the Place of the Skull, and was impressed by his god-like bearing. Below him, he saw the great Keepers of Religion snarl with scorn and ridicule at a man who did only good.

His thoughts were interrupted when the other thief spat out contemptuously, “If you are who you say you are, then save yourself and us too!” Although he had ridiculed Yeh-shuah earlier in the day, the repentant thief answered in defense of Yeh-shuah, “Don’t you fear Elo-heem yet, now that you are approaching death? We deserve punishment, but this man has done nothing wrong.”

“Master,” he said with tears of anguish, “remember me in your Kingdom!” For long hours Yeh-shuah hoped for a word of encouragement from his followers, but they were silent as the crowds jeered and mocked him. It was the repentant thief hanging next to him, suffering the same fate as himself, who understood that the Kingdom he was speaking of was not of this world, but a future Kingdom far greater than humans could imagine. Under better circumstances, Yeh-shuah would have smiled as he spoke, but he did manage to say, kindly, “Be sure of it. You and I will meet in the Land of Elo-heem.”

Yeh-shuah’s gaze then fell on a small group standing a short distance away. His mother was there, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Yo-hawn had his arm across her shoulders. “Take care of her, Yo-hawn,” he said. Yo-hawn looked up at him and nodded, silently.

Later in the afternoon, Yeh-shuah looked out down the hillside with unfocused eyes. Blood still trickled from the punctures made by his thorny crown, and on the ground beneath his hands and feet, puddles of blood began to form. The weight of his body pulled on his hands making gaping wounds. The burning, tearing pain in his hands and feet he could bear, but the sense of isolation, the separation from his Father was sapping his remaining strength, breaking his heart.

Then, quite rapidly, an eerie darkness rolled in, turning a sunny day into starless night. The huge, dense cloud covered all of Yehroo-shaw-lah-im and most of Yeh-oo-daw. The jeering and cursing of the onlookers trailed off in mid-sentence. A nameless terror seized them as huge lightning bolts, followed by deafening thunder crashes, struck nearby, scattering debris everywhere. They all fell, face down onto the ground, terrified that the day of retribution had come.

Within the thick darkness, hidden from human eyes, including Yeh-shuah’s, Elo-heem and his Messengers were nearby. Without the cloud-shield, the brilliant rays of light from Elo-heem would have instantly destroyed the watching humans. Some of the people present left, groping their way back to the city in fear.

Several hours later the darkness lifted. Yet, Yeh-shuah himself was still shrouded in unnatural darkness, his final human agonies hidden from men. In desperation he cried out, “Elo-heem! Elo-heem! Why have you left me?” Those in the crowd who still expected him to come down lost all hope when they heard his cry of despair.

Suddenly, the darkness around him dissipated, and Yeh-shuah, speaking through parched lips, said, “I’m thirsty.”

One man ran and brought a sponge soaked in vinegar on a stick and offered it to him. He turned his head away in refusal.

It is Finished!

Then, quite unexpectedly, in a loud, clear voice, Yeh-shuah cried out his final words, “It is finished! Father, my Spirit returns to you.” As he said this, a light encircled the cross and his face shone like the sun. Then his head fell forward and he stopped moving.

At that very moment, the darkness returned, and a deep rumbling sound was followed by a violent earthquake. As people were shaken together in heaps, rocks came crashing down from the mountains onto the plains, and tombs broke open. Everyone in the vicinity fell to the ground, speechless as the world fell apart around them.

After the dust settled, the captain of the guard said, “Truly, this man was the Son of Elo-heem.”

Meanwhile, in the Temple at the time of the evening sacrifice, a priest was about to kill the lamb on the sacrificial altar. Before he could bring the knife down, the earthquake struck, throwing him down. At the same time, just as Yeh-shuah spoke his last words, an unseen hand ripped the inner veil of the Temple from top to bottom, exposing the holy place seen by few men to all.

The lamb escaped.

As the sun sank closer towards the horizon, the remaining crowd at the scene of the crucifixion began to disperse. Many of those swept up in the excitement of persecuting Yeh-shuah now found themselves convinced that he was indeed the Son of Elo-heem. They made their way home in solemn silence.

Anxious that no bodies remain on the crosses over the Sabbath, the priests and rulers obtained Pil-atos’ permission to have the legs of the prisoners broken to speed their deaths, a common practice. When the guards arrived, they were amazed to find that Yeh-shuah was apparently dead after only six hours. One soldier shoved a spear deep into his side. A stream of water, then a stream of blood gushed out from the wound. Yeh-shuah, the Promised One of Yissraw-ale, was indeed dead.

In anguish, his followers looked on his body, hanging there with head drooping and hair matted with blood. Big iron spikes protruded from ugly wounds on his hands and feet. Convinced that he wasn’t really going to die, their faith perished, and now the future looked hopeless. Because he died a traitor’s death, he wouldn’t even be allowed a respectable burial. He would have to be buried in a traitor’s cemetery.

As they stood there in despair, Nikko Daymos and Yosafe of Aree-math-ah-yah, both wealthy members of the Ruling Council, came to take the body to prepare it for burial in Yosafe’s new tomb. While he was alive, they tried their best to protect him in the Councils. When they returned from out of town business they found he was already crucified. Now they acted openly with courage and boldness to obtain permission to give their friend a decent burial.

In the Tomb

There were few dry eyes as they took Yeh-shuah’s gray body down. They wrapped it quickly with spices in a linen sheet and carried it to Yosafe’s nearby tomb. Inside, they straightened his bent form and folded his hands across his chest. The women brought spices to preserve the body. As the sun approached the horizon, the men rolled a great stone across the opening of the cave. Several women remained outside crying until, at last, they returned to their homes. As the sun set, trumpets sounded throughout the city, signaling the beginning of the Sabbath.