Mark

Mark

27.1

The sun was upset that day. It was difficult for the rest of the solar system to understand why. In general, the sun was a closed-mouth entity. He wasn't one to talk about his feelings or share the comings and goings of his mind. Being the center of everything, it was easy to sense that he was bothered by something. But they weren't about to ask what. If they could have seen into the sun without going blind, they might have realized that he was unhappy with the events on the third planet. A handful of humans were traipsing about in the dust and the sand, mumbling about a criminal. The sun could feel the spots on his belly deepen and get darker. Someone was going to be put to death, and all the sun could do was watch.

“When the morning was come, all the chief priests and elders of the people took counsel against Jesus to put him to death:”

27.2

This was the last thing I wanted to do today. It was the last thing I wanted to do on any day. In fact, if it were my last day on earth I would be thoroughly against doing this thing. But it isn't my choice. Being in charge sometimes means telling people what to do. Making decisions for others. But it also means enforcing the laws. And these are not laws I wrote. I am as bound to them as this man who stands before me trembling. I am a slave to the law. And now his people tell me that he must die. Would I kill him? It would depend. I don't need to kill him for any personal reasons. He's not wrong with me in any way. But his people feel that he must die. So I must hear them. I will see them. And I will see him.

This day is so abominably hot.

“And when they had bound him, they led him away, and delivered him to Pontius Pilate, the governor.”

27.3 - 27.5

When I was a boy, I remember that my next door neighbor's uncle died suddenly. There was much talk in my village about his death. He was skilled at making shoes and was valued by everyone because of this. I remember that he was quiet but often very kind to me. Kind to my sister as well. He and his wife had no children. There was always a movement within the community to include him in the things that we did. If there was a meal for Purim or Passover, he was always invited. You see it was because of his wife. She was ill. My mother once told my father that she was said that she heard voices. I didn't understand. I hear voices. People talk in the village all the time. You can hear people talking even when you try to fall asleep at night. It wasn't until I was much older that I understood what she meant. There were spirits that operated inside of her that were not something that her husband could fix as easily as he could fix a sandal. There was no leather strap that would hold her together. They say this is why they didn't have children. I said it was God. God protected them. Hashem kept them safe because the few times that I encountered his wife I definitely did not feel safe. She was snarling at me like a dog. In fact I think a snarling dog would have been afraid of her. Maybe a lion could stand up to her, but I'm not sold on that. I remember thinking as a boy that she was a demon. A witch. And I felt bad for the cobbler. I felt horrible for his life. He would come to shabbos on some Friday nights, but over the years he came less and less. His wife was worse. She was difficult to deal with. Some say she slept with restraints at night. Otherwise she might crawl through the town and terrify everyone. And then there was that dreadful day I discovered that someone had murdered her. My father said there had been a struggle in their home. A criminal had entered and she was confused. She attacked him, and he was much stronger and he killed her. The Romans eventually caught him and he was put to death for his crime. But the cobbler was never the same. You would have thought that he would approach Temple with a shrinking burden, but his wife's murder actually seemed to make him sink. His business doubled as people flocked to his store to help support him. Everything else about him crumbled. Years went by and as I grew older I never forgot his fondness and kindness when my sister and I were little. That's why it was so awful to hear the second tragedy that struck his home. He had hanged himself. The women of the village would often gossip and cackle about the tragedies of our community but for him they did not. This business was private and it stayed that way.

I have always understood how the burdens of life can sometimes do much to keep us alive. This does not seem true for me today. It is so many years after the cobbler’s death, and I am now at the lowest point in my life. I stand here with these silver pieces in my hand. I look down at them and think of how each piece could represent a moment when he stopped working at his shop and he looked over at me and gave me a smile. It was a warm embrace without even a single movement towards me. This man had a heart to rival the sun. It burned bright for everyone but brightest of all for his wife. I think that when she was gone, he lost his reason to live. I understand that. I had a reason to live and these silver pieces are not it. I was paid to do what had to be done, and still I stand here and think of the cobbler and the tree behind his house. How many times did he toss the rope before it crossed a strong limb? He was strong from his job. He must have tossed the rope high. I have a rope. And there are trees everywhere. I am the cobbler today. But there will be no little boy to remember me smiling at him on a hot summer afternoon. No one will remember me. I have not yet lost the love of my life but soon we all will.

“Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders.”

“Saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? see thou to that.”

“And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.”

27.6 - 26.7

"This is blood money. This money might as well have been soaked in blood. I will wash my hands in the river after I have rid myself of this blood. We cannot return this money to the coffers. It should be buried like the dead. Because this money is dead. It is the death of he who would be the son of G-d."

And a small group of priests took the silver pieces to the graveyard where the people of this community would bury strangers.

And the chief priests took the silver pieces, and said, It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood.

And they took counsel, and brought with them the potter's field, to bury strangers in.

27.8 - 27.10

The day was hot as the two brothers worked together in Potter's field. “For whom are we digging this hole my brother?” “We dig it for the traitor.” “And what made him a traitor?” “He sold his brother.” “And for how much did he sell him?” “30 pieces of silver.” “30 pieces of silver?” “Yes.”

There was a pause in one brother’s digging. He looked up and said,

“How much could I get for you?” And then the two laughed and kept digging.

And when the pieces of silver melted they became blood and soaked the earth where Judas was buried. And the graveyard for strangers became forever known as the field of blood.

“Wherefore that field was called, The field of blood, unto this day.”

“Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying, And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value.”

“And gave them for the potter's field, as the Lord appointed me.”

27.11 - 27.13

The tree that held the traitor was incensed to be his gallows. Long ago it had been a tree that caused the death of everyone. But that tree was innocent. He wasn't sure if he was. Was it his relative who provided the wood that would become the cross that meant the death of this man who was standing before the governor, his lips sealed tightly like the bark that covered his body? How much were trees responsible? How much of a role did they play in this savagery? He would have rather have been chopped down and turned to kindling than to have that strange fruit hanging from his limbs. The traitor. The Judas. And now he was helpless to help the man who had helped so many. He could have been made into a weapon. He could have been turned into a hammer or a spear. But now he was a witness as the young teacher refused to respond to the questions about his being king of the Jews.

“And Jesus stood before the governor: and the governor asked him, saying, Art thou the King of the Jews? And Jesus said unto him, Thou sayest.”

“And when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he answered nothing.”

“Then said Pilate unto him, Hearest thou not how many things they witness against thee?

”

27.14

I am a slave to the law, but this man is a slave to no one. That must be the very definition of a king. If he were to answer my questions, it would open so many troubles for him and for his people. They're not subjects. They are his students. He does not claim to be a king. That’s the accusation of his enemies. He is a teacher. But could there be a better king than one who would face his death rather than admit his monarchy? I am not a king or an emperor. I have my power in Jerusalem, but my power has limits. However, I would not trade it. It’s enough for me. I would not let it be taken from me either. I would fight to the death. This man's kingdom is his body. His mind. He is unlocking the prisons of his people with words. That is a power, too. And here I am pretending to pass judgment. Playing the part of the governor to this man. I am not his governor. I am not his law. His words are his law. He says his words come from God. I don't believe in their God. I've never been impressed by their God. But whoever is the God of this man is an impressive being. That much I can say. He would give this man to the earth and the very people that he teaches would sacrifice him. I cannot say what others will think of this but I know that I am moved. I do not know what history will make of him, but I'm sure I know what it will make of me. When I wash my hands of this, there won't be enough water in any river to clean his blood from me.

And he answered him to never a word; insomuch that the governor marvelled greatly.

27.15

I could not answer him. I could not bring myself to answer to someone who would pretend to be my law. I answer to only one Law. I have only one King. I am bound not by these restraints that have been placed upon me here on earth but by my love and devotion to my Father. And through Him I have been taught to love all. Even those who jail me. Even those who would murder me. Even Judas. The true chains that bind me stretch a long way, but they are the same chains that will one day lift me up to heaven. I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of those who will die around me. These misguided souls are wicked and lost. And I fear that when they take me and determine my fate I will not be here to protect them. As you eat your meals unprotected from sin, you can send me to the wolves. Even wolves deserve nourishment. Even the wolves will taste salvation.

“Now at that feast the governor was wont to release unto the people a prisoner, whom they would.”

27.16 - 27.18

I have been a bad man. I have committed murder. I have taken the life of people who had not harmed me but simply stood in the way of what I wanted. I have been a rebel. I have fought the state. I have done these things in the name of good, but still I broke the laws. And now here I am imprisoned and waiting to be murdered. My father was a teacher. We are the people of Abraham. We have always lived a simple life. But the laws were not fair to us. I felt it was my duty to stand up. To use my strength and my ability to fight injustice even if it meant my death. I am not a scholar like my father. I did not sit long at his feet listening to his lessons. I thought of David though. That was a lesson I listened to intently. My father tried to fill my head with information. He was a good man, but he had the wrong son. I did not waste my time trying to fill the heads of my three sons. No. I will fill their hearts. I will drag them with me into battle. We stood up to tyranny. We will stand up to the monsters who would deny us thousands of years of tradition. For the love of the one G-d and not the many. And now I am jailed. I fought and killed and my message was there. All three boys are dead. They fought bravely, and I am not sad about their deaths. I only wish that I had died with them on the field, but I was taken without a choice. And now the governor participates in a Passover meal. And these people here are angry. I cannot imagine they are angry at me because they hate the laws as well. I know for some I'm a hero. For others I'm an enigma. And for the old I am a menace. But I can live with that because I was fighting for all of them. For all of us. And I will go to my death with my head high for as long as it sits on my shoulders.

“And they had then a notable prisoner, called Barabbas.”

“Therefore when they were gathered together, Pilate said unto them, Whom will ye that I release unto you? Barabbas, or Jesus, who is called Christ?”

“For he knew that for envy they had delivered him.”

27.19 (Part 1)

There is a line that travels from me directly to the emperor. And everywhere in between there are people who would tell me what to do. I have many masters. Here amongst these people I have power, but as I travel down that line my power diminishes quickly. But in addition to the line that ties me to Rome, there is a circle that surrounds me. And if I tell the truth, it's the circle that truly leads my life. That circle is my wife. She has been my wife since she was a teenager. We have several children who live here and they live well. They are the children of the governor. And they have privileges far greater than any Hebrew child in this City. But the wife of the governor has one privilege that no one else has. She has the ear of the governor. And she has been using that ear and twisting it and pulling it and tormenting it now for days.