Jesus Triumphant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 8) (26 page)

The feast of Passover officially began in the afternoon of the fourteenth day of the month of Nissan, the beginning of spring. The disciples James and John carried their Paschal lamb in the long lines of worshippers. They were led in large groups from the outer Court of Gentiles through the Gate Beautiful into the inner Court of Women in the Temple. Each of them had lambs that would substitute for companies of ten to twenty people each.

Then, a group of thirty were allowed through the Nicanor Gate into the Court of Priests. The massive gates closed behind them. In their turn, James held the lamb while John cut its throat with a knife. A trio of priests drew a threefold blast from their silver trumpets with every slaying of a lamb.

Other priests then caught the blood in golden and silver bowls, which were passed up to the priest at the large stone altar. He jerked each bowl at the base of the altar in one splash.

Behind them, a chorus of priests led in a solemn hymn of praise to Yahweh, with the presenters singing in response.

The Levites sang, “Hallelujah!”

The people responded, Hallelujah!”

“When Israel went out of Egypt!”

“When Israel went out of Egypt!”

“The house of Jacob from a people of strange language.”

“Save now, I beseech thee, Yahweh.”

“Blessed is he that comes in the name of Yahweh!”

The sacrificial lambs were hung up while other priests flayed them, cut out the entrails, and separated the fat. They placed the fat in a dish, salted it and threw it on the fire of the altar for burnt offering.

When the sacrifice was complete, James and John took the lamb back with them for the Passover feast with Jesus and the disciples.

As they left, the next section of worshippers were let in with their lambs. The process began all over again, until the entire nation had participated.

James and John left the Temple and made their way to the Shushan Gate to return to the Mount of Olives. They passed by a large, staged platform with several royal seats, guarded by a company of twenty Roman soldiers and heralded by three Levitical priests. Any minute, the tetrarchs Antipas and Philip, accompanied by the high priest Caiaphas and the Roman prefect Pilate, would arrive to take their seats in oversight of the early day’s activities. It was official business. It bored them all, but it had to be done for a show of participation. Pilate would be there to oversee the sacrifice made on behalf of Caesar.

But the leaders were late.

A group of ten priests approached the dais.

The three priests already at the platform were Barabbas, Demas and Gestas in stolen disguise. The twenty Roman soldiers, their Zealots in Roman costume, with other Zealots hidden in the crowd.

Barabbas leaned in to Demas and muttered below his breath, “The Herods and Pilate should have been here an hour ago.”

Demas whispered back, eyes focused on the arriving priests, “They are going to recognize us as imposters. We’ll be discovered.”

Barabbas muttered to his soldiers, “Follow my lead.”

The priests were almost upon them.

Demas looked around. The hustle and bustle of the crowd paid no attention to them. Could they get away if they had to?

The priests stopped before Barabbas, Demas and Gestas and began to give their matter of fact report. The lead, an obvious neophyte, said, “Have you not received the order? Pilate and the Herods are not coming.”

“We are new to the ranks, brother,” said Barabbas.

The neophyte looked at them curiously. “I am new. I do not remember you in the classes.” His eyes narrowed, then widened as his suspicion increased.

Barabbas turned to the Soldiers around the display. “We’ve been betrayed. Kill these priests!”

The faux soldiers responded immediately. They were in tune with their leader.

The priests could not believe what they heard. They froze like ten frightened lambs.

It made the slaughter that much quicker and easier.

The blades of the soldiers sliced, hacked and severed the priests into a gruesome bloodbath, like lambs on an altar.

Passersby screamed in shock.

It drew attention to the platform.

Barabbas jumped up and yelled to the crowd with all his lungs, “THE ROMANS HAVE KILLED OUR PRIESTS!”

Twenty other men of Barabbas’ gang rushed out of the crowd and pretended to kill the soldiers. They thrust their swords safely by the sides of their disguised comrades. They faked slashes to bring about false vengeance on the Romans. They had given the crowds something to react to.

Barabbas continued, “SONS OF ABRAHAM, WE HAVE BEEN ATTACKED BY THE ROMAN FORCES OF CAESAR IN OUR MOST HOLY PLACE! WE MUST RISE UP AND FIGHT BACK! TO ARMS! TO ARMS!”

The crowds edged away from the scene of bloodshed. They could not see that it was all an act, a false flag intended to incite a riot.

And riot was beginning to stir.

“FIND ALL ROMANS AND SLAUGHTER THEM IN THE NAME OF YAHWEH!”

The Zealots raised their swords and shouted a war cry in support. All the crowd could see was a bloodbath and their trusted Jewish priests calling upon them to fight.

Shouts in the crowd agitated more. “NO KING BUT GOD! NO KING BUT GOD!”

Shouts of agreement could be heard. Anger grew. They were becoming a mob.

Pent up fury and hatred for their oppressors began to spill out of the souls of the masses. Demas began to think that maybe they could get this plan going after all.

Suddenly, a thousand Roman soldiers stepped out in military unison from all around the temple porticos of pillars. They were in fighting formation, surrounding the masses with shield and lance, ready to put down the riot.

The gates to the underground tunnel connecting the Antonia burst open and a cavalry of fifty men on horseback, led by Pontius Pilate, entered the outer Court of Gentiles.

Antipas, Caiaphas and Longinus were with him. The high priest blew a shofar trumpet, normally used as a call to worship. The rage and unity of the crowd began to dissolve.

A hundred legionaries surrounded Barabbas, the Zealots and the “dead” faux soldiers. Some of the pseudo-corpses stood up in fear.

Barabbas and the two brothers stood in shock on the dais. They had been betrayed. But by who?

Pilate gestured up above them on the roof of the portico.

Barabbas saw a contingent of archers, with arrows nocked and aimed at them. They wouldn’t stand a chance. He nodded to the other Zealots. They dropped their weapons.

The mob that had only moments before begun to build into murderous rage, were now tamed and open-mouthed with curiosity.

Antipas turned and yelled to the crowd, “ I AM HEROD ANTIPAS, KING OF GALILEE AND PEREA! THERE IS NO REVOLT! RETURN TO YOUR ACTIVITIES!”

Pilate rolled his eyes, thinking,
Grandstanding twat, using the title of king again instead of tetrarch.

Barabbas gritted his teeth in anger.
Outplayed with my own game.

A group of soldiers grabbed the three counterfeit priests and brought them up to Pilate on his horse. Their coverings were torn from their heads. Their hands shackled behind their backs.

Pilate looked back at Longinus, who nodded.

Pilate made a hand gesture to the soldiers surrounding the fifty Zealot captives. They backed up.

Demas could see what was going to happen.

Barabbas screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The guards held him back.

Pilate yelled, “RELEASE!”

From up above, the archers released their arrows and pierced every one of the Zealots with lethal missiles. They went down in a rainstorm of wood and bronze. All of them fell dead, the fake legionaries with them.

All of them, save one, who was still hidden in the shadows of a column in the portico. Eleazar ben Dinai. Barabbas had appointed his most trusted right hand to continue the movement should they fail. He disappeared into the masses of the faithful. But he would never forget his fallen comrades, nor their horrible ambush of death.

Barabbas and Gestas wept.

Demas stood stone-faced. They got the easy way out.

Longinus said to them, “Jesus Barabbas, Demas and Gestas Samaras, you are under arrest for murder, sedition and insurrection.”

Pilate said, “To the Antonia with them.”

• • • • •

Belial walked through the streets of Jerusalem, freely and unseen. He was proud of the fact that he could do as he pleased within what was supposed to be the holy city. And why? Because the people of Israel had so thoroughly rejected Yahweh for so long with their layers of idolatry and self-salvation that they hardened themselves to the living God. It made them open to him. Like a prostitute, Israelites had fornicated with the gods of Canaan for so long, they no longer knew what love of their husband Yahweh was. Their many factions fought over the works of Torah, yet here was Messiah in their very midst, and none of them even recognized him.

He licked his lips. How delicious. Except for that despicable remnant of true believers. If it weren’t for them, he would be dancing on the grave of God. But they were few, and manageable for Belial. As long as he had his useful idiots involved, he had power to create chaos and chicanery. And Belial had a specific useful idiot in mind, embedded within the very heart of Yahweh’s own foundational remnant. He may yet dance on that grave.

Belial had been working this one for quite a while. Iscariot, the son of perdition. He virtually owned the man. Though he was considered one of the twelve disciples of Jesus, and trusted with the privilege of the money purse, Judas Iscariot pilfered from it every chance he could get.

He was the perfect counterfeit, someone who couldn’t believe fully in anything, so he half committed to everything out of pure survival instinct. Waiting to side with the winners. Judas was not a man of great sins, but of many little ones. It was the little ones that primed a soul for useful service to Belial.

Because Belial was a member of the original divine council, he had heavenly flesh. It had transcendent properties that earthly flesh did not have. He was immortal and could move between the heavenly and the earthly realms. But he could also eat physical food as angels could, and even procreate with human women, as the original fallen Sons of God in the days of Noah. But unlike the spirits of the Nephilim, he was not pure spirit in search of a body. He already had a body, so he could not inhabit a human the way a demon could.

One thing he could do was to enter a human through their consciousness. He could manipulate them from a distance like puppets. By projecting his mind into the mind of a willing “bag of bones” as he called such fools, he could steer them any way he wished. Fine. Let them think they were “free,” that they had complete autonomy from all other sources of influence or control outside of themselves. Let them think they were the ultimate arbiters of their decisions and destinies, masters of their fate, captains of their souls. That gave him even more control because they no longer trusted Yahweh, but rather their own will to power. His nemesis said it well, they were all slaves of sin. Belial was their master.

Yahweh has mercy on whom he has mercy and compassion on whom he has compassion. Well, I have malice on whom I have malice and contempt on whom I have contempt
.

He turned down an alley and stood outside the home of a certain man, where the disciples had all gathered for their disgusting Passover meal. He gazed in the window and saw all thirteen of them laid out on their mats before the meal. Jesus had broken bread and gave thanks to Yahweh. Then he said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” He passed it around and the disciples ate the bread in unity.

Then Jesus took a cup of wine and held it up saying, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

A ringing started in Belial’s ears. He turned away with grinding teeth and clenched fists. Jesus was establishing a sacrament. Belial hated sacraments. He detested them with all his being. They were incarnate means of grace. Acts of spiritual warfare. The ringing grew to a piercing level that seemed it would make his head explode. It drove him mad with anger.

This was it. It was now or never. He looked back in upon the gathering, found his prey, focused his consciousness, and entered Iscariot.

Barabbas awoke to the sound of a contingent of soldiers entering the dungeon area. He was in a prison cell in the Antonia. He saw Gestas and Demas already awake in a separate cell across the way.

The centurion walked up to the bars and spoke. “I am to take you to the palace on the other side of the city.”

Barabbas said, “You are the one who has been hunting us since we broke out from the Scythopolis prison.”

“Yes. I serve the orders of the prefect.”

The guards shackled Barabbas’ hands and feet.

“Impressive,” said Barabbas.

“Disappointing,” said Longinus, looking him up and down.

“I outfoxed you for some time.”

Longinus raised his brow. It was a good point.

Barabbas asked, “How did you find out about our plan? Who betrayed us?”

“No one betrayed you.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I remembered your dirty little trick back in Scythopolis impersonating a centurion.” He didn’t have the temerity to admit that Mithras, or Jupiter, or whoever it was, had visited him and told him of their plans. It was all a blur of memory to him now. He had even begun to question whether he had actually had the divine encounter.

Barabbas nodded. Of course. He stared defiantly into Longinus’ eyes and said, “No king but God. No god but God.”

“Guards, take him away.”

Barabbas was taken to the upper city on the northwest side. He looked up into the beautiful Greco-Roman stone edifice of Herod’s fortress. A large crowd of agitated Sanhedrin leaders and public onlookers had gathered at the entrance of the praetorium, Pilate’s headquarters. The guards took Barabbas into the praetorium through the tower gates on the north side of the complex to avoid the unruly crowd.

He was thrown into the holding cell inside the praetorium. He could see flogging poles in the courtyard and winced at his fate.

Longinus left him, returning to the Antonia.

A group of Herodian guards escorted a prisoner from the far end of the yard toward the holding cell. Barabbas could see it was the Nazarene. Herod Antipas followed them in and Pilate met them from the exit.

The guards pushed Jesus into the cell with Barabbas. Herod dismissed them. The Nazarene wore a purple royal robe, an obvious mockery of his Messianic claims. Barabbas could see he had a black eye and bruising from being roughed up by the soldiers already.

Pilate and Antipas stood at the cell door.

Antipas sighed and said, “He won’t speak to me, the little rodent.”

Pilate said, “Well, my dear Antipas, it appears we finally have something in common. I like the robe. Clever.”

Antipas said, “All these years, I wanted to find the man. Interrogate him. At one point, I even feared he might be the prophet John back from the dead. Only to find out he’s just another pathetic clown seeking attention.”

He looked over at Jesus, in the corner wiping blood from his nose. “Well, how do you like the attention, clown?”

Antipas turned back to Pilate. “I humbly thank you, my prefect, for including me in on this deliberation.”

“Well, he is a Galilean,” said Pilate. “I owe you that much.”

Antipas looked at him, surprised. Antipas had been the one to complain to Caesar when Pilate put the standards inside the Temple. Antipas saw this as his first chance to mend his relationship with the prefect for political interests. He said, “I find him—incorrigible and seditious.”

Pilate said with a smile, “All you Jews are incorrigible.”

Antipas smiled in deference. No argument there.

Pilate sobered. “The city is in an uproar, and over what? Another one of dozens of fools who claim to be your deliverer. I don’t find guilt in him. You Jews and your doctrinal disputes. You want to kill each other over petty differences of interpretation of your sacred texts. So he claims to be ‘the Son of God.’ What do I care for such insanity? He doesn’t even have the temerity to defend himself. At least Barabbas over there actually committed a crime worthy of death.”

Antipas offered, “There is the custom of Passover release.”

Pilate looked at him with renewed interest. “Yes, there is. I almost forgot. That should be interesting.”

Every year during the feast, Pilate would release a single prisoner by recommendation of the crowd. It was his twisted version of displaying godlike mercy.

Antipas said, “I want you to know that whatever you decide, you will have the full support of the Herodian leadership behind you. Now, if you please, I have a pressing matter back in my palace to attend to.”

Antipas bowed and left Pilate alone with the two prisoners.

Pilate said, “Nazarene.” Jesus looked at him. He gestured with his finger for the Jew to come close to the bars.

Jesus coughed, held his bruised rib, and stumbled over to the bars.

Pilate said, “Do you know my wife has had dreams about you? She tells me to have nothing to do with you.”

Jesus said nothing.

Pilate said, “I am going to ask you one last time, are you the King of the Jews?”

Jesus finally spoke up. “Do you say this of your own accord, or did others say it to you about me?”

“He speaks. Finally. Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have delivered you over to me. What have you done?”

Pilate felt the look the Nazarene gave him was one of pity. He felt anger arise in him. He shook it off. He would not let such a worthless plebeian affect his countenance.

Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting on my behalf.”

“Ah, so you are a king?”

“You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world—to bear witness to the truth. And everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice.”

Pilate chuckled. “Well, you certainly do have visions of grandeur, don’t you.” He peered at the weak and frail-looking prisoner, barely able to stay standing. “You speak of truth. What is truth? Listen to my voice and I will tell you what is truth.” He stepped close to the bars and whispered, “Power is truth.”

Pilate turned and walked back out to the crowd in the streets.

Barabbas stared at the Nazarene as he grunted and found another place to sit on the floor.

Barabbas mused, “The Passover release. You may be freed yet.”

“Azazel,” said the Nazarene.

“What did you say?”

“Azazel. It is a ritual that occurs on the Day of Atonement. Two goats are brought before the high priest. He lays his hands on one of them, and transfers all the sins of the people onto it. They then lead the goat out into the wilderness of Azazel, the place of chaos outside the holy city. The desert of Belial.”

“What happens to it?”

“The chaos consumes it. The other goat is for Yahweh. It is sacrificed as a sin offering.”

The sounds of the crowd outside grew increasingly agitated.

Roman soldiers entered the praetorium and opened up the cell. They brought the two prisoners through the yard and out onto the outer porch of the entrance where Pilate awaited them.

The crowd yelled smears and curses as Barabbas and Jesus were presented before Pilate.

Pilate quieted down the crowd, and then spoke, “I have two Jesuses before you. Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus who is called Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Messiah?”

Barabbas thought,
Two goats of the same name. Who is the true Son of the Father?

The crowd yelled in a cacophony of yells and screams. The name most clearly heard was Barabbas.

Barabbas heard Pilate mumble to himself, “Damned fools.”

He raised his voice again, “Tell me again, which of the two do you want me to release for you?”

Someone started a chant that drowned out any other meager voices for Jesus in the crowd. “Bar-abbas, Bar-abbas, Bar-abbas!”

Barabbas could not believe it. He was going to be set free. They were choosing him over the peaceful lamb of the Nazarene. He couldn’t help but smile. He felt his heart beat out of his chest and his breathing increase. He was going to go free. He was going to go free.

Pilate waved them to be quiet. He shook his head with disgust. “Then what shall I do with Jesus, who is called the King of the Jews?”

A strong dominant voice bellowed, “We have no king but Caesar!” The crowd cheered. Others shouted in agreement, “No king but Caesar!”

Now Barabbas soured. These idiots who were releasing him over the Nazarene were chanting the very opposite of his own slogan, “No king but God.” It was against everything he had lived and fought for. He was being championed by blasphemers. He felt sick to his stomach.
What does that make me?

Barabbas thought of how Pilate had mused about truth, back at the holding cell. But the mob didn’t care about truth. They would worship Caesar as quickly and as easily as they would revolt against him. What was Barabbas even fighting for? A pack of cannibals who would eat their own? A nation of traitors?

A new chant started, “Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Pilate whistled. A contingent of fifty soldiers came out from behind him and lined up along the porch in armed readiness. The crowd pulled back in fear, and quieted down.

Pilate nodded and one of the servants brought forth a bowl of water. He reached in and ceremonially washed his hands. He turned back to the crowd and said, “I am innocent of this man’s blood. See to it yourselves.”

He turned to the guard and said, “Release Barabbas.”

A guard released the shackles from Barabbas’ hands and feet.

A dominant voice in the crowd yelled, “His blood be on us and on our children!”

Barabbas thought,
It will be, you fools. It will be
.

Pilate told him, “You may go.” He turned to the guards beside Jesus. “Scourge him and hand him over.”

Barabbas stepped down the steps in uncertainty. He turned to look back. He saw them drag Jesus back into the praetorium for scourging. He knew the serious pain and damage that the whip did to the body. The image that came to him was of the Passover lamb, an innocent, silent, peaceful creature being tethered to a post and slaughtered.