5th Gospel
Told by Jesus' Beloved Apostle
A Novel by Richard Jewell
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Chapter 6: With the Jerusalem Priests
5th Gospel--Told by Jesus' Beloved
Apostle
A Novel by Richard Jewell
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Book I: Early Years
Part One–Child
By the time James was born, Jesus had worked out in his head nearly everything about sex that had made his brother’s birth possible. He did not entirely understand the mechanics of it. He knew, for example, that Mary’s stomach had slowly swollen with child, but he did not understand why this had to take nine months. Nor did he understand exactly what happened when the sexual parts of a man and a woman met, for he only observed it happening in some sheep he had studied.
But he figured out enough about sex to be satisfied for the time.
What few idle questions he did still have, disappeared quickly when he saw the baby.
He was in an agony of suspense during the birth, waiting in the family room where he was consigned for hours on end. His mother, he knew, was going through something very difficult.
Then he heard a cry. At first it scared him, but then he grinned. I sounded just like that little red-faced baby down the street that was always hungry.
His father went into the bedroom without a glance at him. Many endless minutes later his father came out. He was smiling.
“Can I see him, Poppa!” Jesus jumped up.
Joseph nodded. “Yes. It is your turn. You have a brother now, Son.”
Jesus never had doubted it would be anything but a brother. He needed one for a playmate. He rushed to the doorway.
“Slow down!” Joseph put his large carpenter’s hand on his son’s chest.
Jesus slowly slipped through the goatskin door cover and stood inside.
His momma looked pale. The other women were walking about the room, busy with various jobs. They all looked pleased. His mother smiled at him.
“Come here,” she said.
When he reached her bedside, she held her hand out. She and Joseph had decided ahead of time to let Jesus see and touch her and the baby.
“Look, Jesus.” She squeezed his hand.
Jesus craned his neck. On the other side of his mother’s blanket-covered body was a midget bundle of swaddling clothes fastened by bands. At the top of the bundle was a little wrinkled face.
Jesus’ eyes watered with tears instantly. He stared at the tiny thing. suddenly he realized it was too small and tightly wrapped to play with.
Without taking his eyes off his brother, he asked, slowly, “When can it get out of those wraps, Momma?”
“Not for awhile, Son.”
“Can, can I touch him?”
“Maybe tomorrow. But first you must wash your hands.” She lifted her hand to his check.
“Can he talk?” The question just tumbled out of him. He had already been told his brother wouldn’t be able to talk for a long time. But he was confused.
The women around the room smiled and glanced at him.
“He is beautiful, Momma.” Suddenly he turned his face into his mother’s hand still resting on his cheek, and he began to cry.
He stopped crying abruptly. “I will wash my hands very well and then I will hold him tomorrow.”
“You can touch him,” Mary repeated. Her own eyes were brimming with tears. “In several weeks we will help you hold him, too.”
“It’s time to go,” Josi told him gently. “Come.” She put her hands of his shoulders.
With one last glance at his new brother and his mother, he let Josi guide him out.
The worst of it, he felt, several weeks later, was that this brother of his was never going to grow up. Everyone kept telling him James would not be old enough to play with for a very long time. He was finally beginning to realize this was true.
Except for the presence of his brother, his life settled back into the routine of what it had been before.
But through the next months as he studied, he began to feel frustrated. Whereas before, he had felt confusion at certain passages in the prophets and Laws, now he felt annoyance. And when it came to the daily Laws for living, he felt anger.
“Why can’t they explain this better!” he suddenly yelled one day at his father.
Joseph looked up sharply from the book roll they were studying. “Jesus! We are in the synagogue!”
Jesus flushed. “I’m sorry. But all they do is tell me what I can’t do! I can’t eat this; I can’t eat that. I can’t walk more than half a mile on the Sabbath or start a campfire and cook. I can’t do anything! And I have to start obeying these Laws to the exact letter when I’m thirteen!”
Joseph looked at his son shrewdly. There was no shadow of hair on his son’s chin, yet. But the boy’s voice was getting deeper.
“You are becoming a man,” he told Jesus.
Jesus stared at him, open-mouthed. “I’m–what?” His voice cracked.
“Men become anry at these laws,” Joseph said. “Boys do not. Your voice is changing. Do you have new places on your body where hair is growing?”
Jesus blushed.
Joseph nodded. “It is time to take you to the Temple. You cannot be officially welcomed into manhood, yet. That is for the priests to do next year when you are thirteen. But at least you can come with us to Jerusalem for Passover.”
Joseph’s face softened. “You will talk with the Teachers there,” he continued. “Maybe they can help you understand why the Laws are important.”
The Temple in Jerusalem was the visible reflection of the mighty Laws of the Hebrews. An intricate and beautiful set of structures that were still not completely finished, it nevertheless was dazzling to look upon.
When Jesus first entered through the outer gate beneath the huge roofed and pillared walkway, he was blinded in the wide courtyard by a bright light. It was early morning and the sun was reflecting right into his eyes from the shimmering golden panels of a great bronze gate facing eastward.
Joseph, Mary, and Josi walked across the courtyard toward this gate, so he followed. He craned his head back as his eyes followed the walls of the Temple up and up to the great roof whose sharp slopes seemed to cleave the sky itself. The building was as high as it was long, and its length stretched further than the center street of many small villages in the hills.
“You shall meet with the priests inside,” Joseph said.
They went through the huge, gleaming, gold-covered gate. Inside was the spacious Women’s Court where no foreigners could go.
The family made offerings. Then Joseph left Jesus with a Teacher who would answer Jesus’ questions and instruct him in the Laws while the Passover lasted. Jesus would get his lessons every day when he was free from family obligations.
He enjoyed this instruction. His Teacher was more thoroughly versed in matters of the Law than Joseph or Judy, for the Teacher was able to give Hebrew reasons for following the Laws. These reasons had been developed over many hundreds of years by the learned men of the Hebrews in many countries.
Yet still Jesus was dissatisfied. He began offering reasons of his own, based on what he had read of prophets and Moses.
His reasons, though unusual because they didn’t follow normal methods of explanation, were logical.
“Are you an Essene?” the Teacher finally asked.
Jesus shook his head. Technically he was not, for he had never been officially taken into the Essene community. Nor did he want to tell the Teacher that his parents were Essenes. Here in Jerusalem, among the Pharisee and Sadducee priests who controlled the Temple, Essenes were disliked. His Teacher was a Pharisee.
“An Essene woman sometimes teaches me,” he said.
The Temple Teacher shook his head. “No wonder.” He stroked his beard. “Your explanations of the laws are too preachy. They sound as if you yourself were a prophet. Don’t be so big-headed, boy. Depend on the traditional teachings. Does this Essene woman encourage you to ignore the traditions?”
Jesus shook his head stubbornly. “No, Teacher.”
“Hmm. Then it is your own weakness? Do you love the prophets so much that you would sound like one? Or do you simply dislike tradition? Love tradition. It is the rock of our people. Do you know your Laws? Your commentaries? Recite for me.”
Jesus recited. He did so well that the Teacher stroked his beard again. “Boy, you know these things well. Come back tomorrow. I wish for the Rabbi Gamaliel to hear you. Then you may offer some of your Essene reasons to him.”
Jesus went back to his family excited. Rabbi Gamaliel was one of the foremost young scholars and priests in Jerusalem. But when Jesus arrived at the house where Mary and Joseph ewere staying, they were packing.
“But we have only been here two days!” he exclaimed.
Mary looked up. “It is enough. We don’t always stay the whole Passover week.”
“Can we leave later in the morning? The Teacher wishes me to meet with him again.”
Joseph, who was reading from a book roll, spoke with barely a glance at him. “You can stay behind a few hours. Your mother and I are leaving at dawn, but Josi is coming later. She will leave from her cousin’s house where she is staying, so you must meet her there.”
Jesus nodded. Josi’s cousin lived near the Temple. “I will go with Josi.”
“This evening we will tell her you might be going with her,” his mother quietly said. “But Jesus, will you want to change your mind and come with us?”
“Yes, Momma, it is possible.”
She nodded. “Then we will tell Josi not to wait for you. We will tell her that if you have not come to her by noon, she should assume you have already left with us.”
Early the next morning as the sun rose in the eastern sky, Jesus decided to stay, and leave with Josi later. He kissed Joseph and Mary goodbye.
He strode into the Temple. There he was met by his Teacher. The Rabbi Gamaliel came shortly thereafter and began asking the boy questions.
A few minutes before noon, Jesus realized he could not leave. It would be very impolite. The Teachers were not through with him.
“Ah yes,” said Rabbi Gamaliel, standing up and stretching. His eyes were sparkling. “We will eat! Then we shall talk more.”
The Rabbi put his arm around Jesus’ shoulders. Jesus did not make it to Josi’s cousin’s house.
He stayed with the Temple priests for three days. During this time, more and more of them became interested in him. His parents, meanwhile, had finally met up with Josi and realized that Jesus was not with anyone. They returned to Jerusalem the afternoon of the third day and, after looking for him at the homes they and Josi had stayed in, they went to the Temple.
As they entered the inner Women’s Court, tired and dusty from hurried traveling, it was already very late in the afternoon. They saw a group of priests clustered around someone sitting on a stool. Immediately they recognized some of the priests, for among them were some of Israel’s most prominent Doctors of the Laws.
They saw young Rabbi Gamaliel, and with him his aged but still highly rational grandfather, the great Rabbi Hillel. Joseph of Arimathea, who would someday bury Jesus but was now a rich young rabbi, was near the center of the group, bending over whoever was sitting on the stool. Several other priests from the Sanhedrin, the ruling high council of the nation, were there.
Most prominent of all was the Sanhedrin’s ruler, the high priest of the Temple and Israel, Annas. Someday five of his sons would in turn be high priest, and he and his son-in-law Caiaphas would help put Jesus to death. But in this earlier year he had just recently been appointed to the high priest’s office by the Roman governor.
Annas was short, dark, and well proportioned. His black eyebrows grew almost together over his piercing eyes. Even though he was still relatively young, two great wrinkles curved out and down like huge talons from his nose to below his mouth. Fine wrinkles spread out from the outer corners of his eyes. His face was one used to bitter controversy, and to winning.
Joseph and Mary carefully avoided this group of priests. The two of them were, after all, Essenes. They would have enjoyed talking with some of the priests, especially the young and kind Rabbi Gamaliel and Rabbi Joseph. But some of the others, especially the High Priest Annas, disliked Essenes intensely. In any case, it was always wise to avoid a crafty and ambitious man like Annas. He was in power, not by choice of the Jews, but by choice of the romans.
The two of them couldn’t find Jesus anywhere, neither in the Women’s Court where the priests were, nor outside the Temple. They returned to the Women’s Court one more time to ask a priest about their son. They stood quietly at some distance from the cluster of priests, waiting for one of the friendlier ones to leave the group and walk across the courtyard. Suddenly the group shifted slightly. Joseph could see through it to the center. There, on the stool, was Jesus.
Joseph’s stomach lurched. After all the hard traveling and worry, he had found his son in the midst of some of the Essenes’ worst enemies.
He grabbed Mary’s wrist and pointed Jesus out to her.
“Oh Joseph!” she exclaimed. “What do you think he has told them?”
Joseph shook his head. “Come.”
They walked up to the priests and waited.
Jesus was asking the priests a question. “How is it,” the boy said, “that the prophet Zechariah could in one moment say our Messiah shall die like a sheep, and yet in the next moment say the Messiah shall scatter us all with a whirlwind, leaving our nations desolate?”
“Some say the Messiah must come twice,” Joseph of Arimathea answered.
Rabbi Gamaliel shook his large head in the gathering dusk. “The former passage in Zechariah does not state that the Messiah shall die,” he said, “but only that he shall be ‘struck.’ If indeed we may be sure it is a passage about the Messiah. If it is such a passage, then cannot the Messiah be struck, but live; and living, make war upon all the nations?”
Jesus nodded. He tapped one foot on the stone pavement. “Yes, but the second passage does not state the Messiah will make war upon the nations, only that he will scatter them with a whirlwind. It is only because, among the first of the Psalms, in which the Messiah breaks the earth with a rod of iron, that we assume he is a warrior. When is a whirlwind the same as a rod of iron?”
Young Rabbi Gamaliel shook his head and smiled.
Joseph chose this moment to interrupt. He edged forward. “Jesus,” he said, “will you not come home now?”
All heads turned to look at him and Mary.
The High Priest, Annas, stared at them piercingly. Then a sociable smile curved upward on his face. “The parents,” he said. His voice echoed across the courtyard. He strode in one long step to Joseph and clasped the carpenter’s shoulder. “This is your son?”
Joseph nodded and met the High Priest’s stare quietly. The older man noticed that the Temple guards, burly hill men standing around the courtyard walls, were watching him with curiosity.
“Your son is a wonder! Annas exclaimed. “we have had him three days here, and he knows almost as much as I do!”
“Thank you,” Joseph said.
“Who taught him?” Annas asked. His eyes seemed suddenly more alert as he waited for the answer. A young priest nearby lit an oil lamp. The light gleamed on Annas’ forehead.
“I taught him, and several people from the area around our town,” Joseph answered. “We are from Nazareth.”
Annas tightened his grip on Joseph’s shoulder and smiled more. “Ah, you Galilean farmers. A province full of resistance to the Romans.” He winked at Joseph. “Good for you,” he said in a low voice. “The Romans will someday be gone, and we shall have our lands to ourselves.”
“Poppa!” Jesus exclaimed. His face was in shadows. He walked to his father’s side. One of the younger priests tousled the boy’s hair in passing.
Joseph put his hand around Jesus’, enclosing it. The chill night air was entering the great doorway. Joseph shivered once, then rigidly held his body still.
“Bring him back next year!” Annas exclaimed. “The boy confounds us with questions about minor prophets that even we have studied little, and then he answers his own questions! Rabbi!” he called to Joseph of Arimathea. “Come! Walk the family to the outer gates! Escort them to the edge of the city!”
Joseph of Arimathea borrowed a torch from one of the guards along the walls and kindly let the family out of the Temple. He sensed that somehow Jesus had displeased his parents, so all the way through the dark, noisy streets of Jerusalem he explained how Jesus had amazed the group of priests. Finally, with a kind farewell, he left them just outside the city where the moonlit pastures came up almost to the city walls.
As soon as they were around a bend in the dusty road, out of sight and hearing, Mary turned to Jesus.
“Why,” she asked, “have you treated us like this?”
In the bright moonlight Jesus quietly looked into his mother’s eyes.
“Your father and I have been looking for you,” she told him. “We were worried!”
Jesus felt like he was still with the priests, asking and answering questions. Without worrying about her reaction, he told his mother exactly what he was thinking. It seemed logical enough to him.
“Why did you have to look for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know it was my duty to be busy in my Poppa’s business?” A silver lance of moonlight reflected off the top of his red hair.
Joseph looked at him sharply. “My business isn’t in the Temple, Jesus. I’m a carpenter in Nazareth.”
Jesus looked at him in confusion. Neither boy nor man could read the expression in the other’s eyes, for their faces were shadowed.
“Yes, Poppa,” Jesus finally said.
No one spoke a word more until they set up camp that night in a glade protected from the rising winds. After Jesus had gone to bed, Joseph and Mary walked a short way through the trees and across a ravine to discuss the day’s events.
“Do you think he knows who his real father is?” Mary asked.
Joseph looked at her gently. “No. And even if he did, who ever heard of calling God ‘Poppa’? It is not done.”
“Well, something happened, Joseph.” She shivered in the cold night wind and wrapped her robes more tightly around her.
Joseph nodded. “We’ll have to talk this over with Judy. We can’t control him if he’s going to be wandering off from us whenever he wants to discuss the laws and the prophets.
“He needs to be told,” Mary said. Her lips pressed firmly together.
“Maybe so,” Joseph answered. “But there are many ways of doing it. First we will talk with Judy.”
“I feel like we’re about to lose him,” Mary said. A night bird called in the distance. Its small song was lonely and hollow.
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Most recent revision of text: 1 Aug. 2020.
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Text copyright: 1978 by Richard Jewell. All rights reserved. Please feel
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