Dear Friends,

Does God love us or not?

In the storms of life, and when we watch the news, it sometimes feels unlikely.

By God’s power, I hope today’s story…a story about someone who was alone…can help us, in the spirit of Sherlock Holmes, eliminate the impossible.

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We weren’t ready for that kind of love

I’m standing at Gabbatha with my sword and my uniform on…it’s just enough to make Dad proud. I don’t have to be like Benaiah; I’m in the band and that’s something.

Caiaphas screams “He’s a blasphemer!” It’s not hard to pick the bad boy over the blasphemer. The patriot over the heretic. We all know that Jesus claimed to be God. But what if…? Never mind. Kill the blasphemer, release the rebel. 100 years of Roman rule can do that to you.

“Crucify him!” Benaiah is yelling right next to me. He’s the captain…Caiaphas’s new fixer. None of that “Never man spake like this man” drivel for him. He’s all in. I try to yell just like him but all I can get out is a whisper. At least he can see my lips moving. That should do.

I’m sorry, Jo. We wanted our country back more than we wanted bread, peace and healing. We wanted our national dignity back more than we wanted rest, light and living water. We wanted David, Gideon and the Maccabees back more than we wanted the Way, the Truth and the Life. As she sobbed in front of us, we cried out for the blood of Mary’s little carpenter boy. We weren’t ready for that kind of love.

They ruined it

It starts in the garden.

I want slashing swords and cursing tongues. I want a body count of 11, a bloody spear in my hand, and a struggling, hog-tied Jesus. That’s an arrest I can feel good about.

But it’s all wrong from the start. I’m suddenly remembering the burning bush and we are all falling to the ground, even Benaiah, in the grip of a nameless terror. Then, a ray of hope…Malchus loses an ear and Benaiah’s gleaming sword comes forth. They’ve called down the thunder and I’ll get to see my brother deliver the boom. But then they run.

His closest friends and confidantes, his inner circle. The ones he revealed his secrets to. The ones who should be forming an unbreakable human chain around him. The ones who should be willing to fight or die at his command, to go out in a blaze of glory or resolutely accept a martyr’s death. The ones whose cold, dead hands we should have to pry Jesus out of.

They all run for their lives and I convince myself that I feel a little better. Wouldn’t the true Son of God have more devoted followers?

He knew it was coming and told them so…even before He was born. He knew they would fail Him in His hour of need. He knew they would put their own skin over His and run like cowards. Yet, He still taught them, walked with them, fed them, and confided in them for years. He let them see His glory. He still let them be His apostles after He rose again. I still have trouble wrapping my mind around this kind of love, Jo, but I think I understand now what you were telling us. Don’t know if you’ll ever get to read this, but I’m sorry I didn’t listen.

This kiss

It starts in the garden…but not with the burning bush.

Caiaphas didn’t want a scene, so he needed someone on the inside. Our guy shows us the place, gives us the signal, and then…Jesus calls him “friend.”

This is when my agony starts…this is when the reality of what we are doing begins to overtake me. I’ve heard he has unimaginable, bone-chilling, hair-raising power, but is completely harmless. In that brief moment, that moment of calm, courteous, unperturbed steadfastness in the face of being betrayed, not merely abandoned, by one of his inner circle, that moment where all the curses that should be coming out of his mouth do not come, my haunting begins.

This is no mere man we are killing…and this is no ordinary love we are spurning.

Chuza and Benaiah are dead…stabbed in a raid by Giscala. Chuza said he was sorry he betrayed you.

As for me, I wish I’d listened to you decades ago. You tearfully told us everything about the loving Shepherd, and me and Chuza and Benaiah just kept yukking it up. But as Titus closes in, I still have to chuckle at the irony..after so many years of pretending to be smug and shaking my head because my kid sister didn’t understand big important things like independence, the Hasmonean dynasty, and the scourge of imperialism, you’re the one who escaped, and I am about to die.

Most of us are still not ready for that kind of love, Jo…but last night, I told Him I was ready. You said His love was bigger than all of our nonsense, bitterness, selfishness and hatred, so I’m anchoring my soul on that. Though death approaches, my haunting is over.

Keep on shining. I’ll see you on the other side.