 With a Kiss
Excerpted from The Original Sin: A Collection of Fictional Vignettes by Bonnie Chavda
The entourage of armed men and their torches closed in around him as Judas and Jesus faced one another. His exterior belying the turmoil within, Judas smiled and stepped forward, warmly embracing Jesus and kissing him customarily on both cheeks.
Jesus did not withdraw from the embrace. But as the former apostle came near Jesus said in a voice so low, so calm, it seemed to thunder.
“Would you turn me over to my enemies with a kiss, Judas?”
Before Judas could answer Caiaphus stepped forward, his entourage and several onlookers crowding behind him, some of them clearly showing their sword hilts.
“Who are you looking for?” When Jesus spoke several of the Pharisees and guards suddenly buckled to the ground. They gasped and looked around in confused fear to see what had hit them. The hair stood up on the back of Judas’ neck. Caiaphus himself was sitting on his backside in the dust in front of Jesus, his fine turban dislodged, had slipped down over one eye. He brushed the dirt from his hands and righted his hat.
“Arrest him!” the high priests barked one after the other, motioning to the troops from the temple guard and pointing frantically at Jesus as though he would bolt any minute and the rabbit would escape the snare again.
The guard was reluctant now.
“Are you Jesus, the Nazarene?” Caiaphus said with all the authority he could muster mixed with the angry humiliation he already felt. The high priest scrambled to compose himself.
“I am,” Jesus told him simply.
Another invisible hand swept through the soldiers and temple entourage as if loosed on the voice of Jesus. Many of them shrieked and the curiosity seekers fled. The torch of one of the carried, dropped, caught fire the hem of one of the chief priests there to enforce the arrest. The detachment, their faces wide eyed and grim in the glow of torchlight, shuffled uncomfortably. Some looked over their shoulders in fear and made low frightened remarks to one another, their confidence quickly fleeing in spite of the numbers against the man they had come to apprehend.
The man screeched and one of his fellows came to help him tamp out the blaze. By now the whole detachment was in a panic. Several of them also threw down their torches and fled into the darkness. The boy from the watchtower still stood there in his linen wrap.
Jesus reached out a hand to help Caiaphus back to his feet.
“Devil’s emissary!” Caiaphus spat. He jerked his sleeve away as his servant rushed to help him up.
“What’s happening?” it was Peter, stumbling quickly into the circle of torchlight, rubbing sleep from his face. He recognized Caiaphus and his eyes fell on Judas. Peter scowled, clenching his fists.
“You rotten traitor!” Peter lunged at him. “I should have done this long ago!”
Seeing the unshaven robust man with a bulk and an expression similar to a bear robbed of its cubs rushing toward him, Judas took a step back between two of the temple guards and closed himself behind them. They laid hands on the fisherman who threw off their grip with one heave. Judas sucked in his breath, his own courage draining away. A sinking feeling, like some great mechanism beginning to spin out of control, a twisting fist, grabbed Judas’ gut.
“Arrest him!” Caiaphus forced the shoulder of his servant, grabbing him by his garment and pointing at Jesus.
The chief of the guard stepped forward with ropes which the servant yanked away hurriedly untangling them.
“On what grounds!” Peter shouted.
John had finally gotten into the circle of light and confusion. He pulled at Peter’s shirt to restrain him from attacking Judas and looked back and forth from Jesus to Peter to Caiaphus at a loss for any words.
“Ha!” thought Judas. “That’s the first time his tongue is not flapping!” Judas felt a hot sense of satisfaction at having the upper hand over John at least for this moment after all his taunts.
Just then John found his tongue. “What shall we do, Rabbi?”
The servant of the high priest had the ropes doubled and roughly took one wrist of Jesus to secure it to the other.
Breaking free of John’s restraint Peter took opportunity of the priest’s servant having his hands occupied. The fisherman seized the servant’s sword and its blade glinted in the firelight. Cursing and the slash of the sword mixed together. The Ethiopian screamed and doubled over. The was a rush of bodies in every direction.
“He is murdered!” someone shouted.
“Enough, Peter!” it was Jesus agin. “Enough! Will you prevent what God has not? I won’t refuse the cup He has given me to drink.”
Restrained by John, Peter glared at Judas and suddenly spat on him. The warm spittle filled Judas’ eye and ran off his nose and down his mouth. Judas wiped the disgusting odorous phlegm on a sleeve. It made his already tense stomach turn over and he struggled not to retch from the smell masking his nostrils momentarily. More scuffling occurred. When the torches went upright again the servant of the high priest was whimpering, his face glazed with pain and shock, his bloodied hands and head dark and wet.
Pushing Peter aside, the rope still hanging limp from one wrist the Rabbi put out his hand and touched the side of the servant’s head. The man cringed but instantly the pain left him entirely. He thought he might faint as he felt the wound on the side of his head where his ear had been severed completely. The ear itself had fallen in a horrible dead thud onto the servant’s sandaled foot and before he realized what it was he had kicked it off somewhere into the dark. But now, as his sticky fingers felt the place where the ear was missing, a new one had instantly replaced it. The servant trembled uncontrollably, unable to speak. Tears of terror and disbelief and shock of wonder rolled down his cheeks.
“Bind him!” Caiaphus screamed hysterically.
But the servant shook took a fleeting glance at Jesus and at his master. He shook his head, fingering his new ear, and fled.
You can read the rest of this Vignette depicting the last hours of Jesus and the disciples who chose to follow Him in The Original Sin by Bonnie Chavda available in our Online bookstore.
All rights reserved. No part of this message can be used without permission. © 2010
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Mahesh and Bonnie Chavda, 4/1/2010 |
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