To Kill A King {PART II}

They first brought Jesus to Annas, the father-in-law of the high priest Caiaphas. Two of the disciples, Peter and John, followed the crowd all the way to where they were going. John was familiar to the high priest and was permitted to enter the courtyard behind Jesus and the rest of the men, while Peter had to wait outside the gate. John went in at first, and then came back out, spoke to the girl on duty there and invited Peter inside.

Things were going well until they stood before the girl on duty in front of the gate, when she started to look doubtful. She asked, “You are not one of his disciples, are you?”

Peter felt himself stiffen in defense: “I am not,” he insisted.

The crisp, frigid air caressed Peter’s skin like sandpaper and he shuddered. John disappeared into the courtyard, and Peter was left alone outside the gate once again. He joined a small group that had started a fire and were huddled around it to keep warm; he soaked up the warmth of the flames.

~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, Jesus stood before Annas, enduring many questions about his teachings, his disciples and all the disorder and commotion he had been causing in the community.

“I have spoken openly to the world,” Jesus replied. “I always taught in synagogues or at the temple, where all Jews come together. I said nothing in secret. Why question me? Ask those who heard me. Surely they know what I said.”

Annas stiffened as if he were insulted. One of the officials who was standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, and snarled, “Is this the way you answer the high priest?”

“If I said something wrong,” Jesus answered, “testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why do you hit me?”

~ ~ ~

The flames crackled and popped as Peter stood by the fire, warming himself. The conversation with the others was scattered, gossip and small talk keeping their mouths busy. Eventually, one of the men asked, “You are not one of his disciples, are you?”

The words were ugly and sounded much too familiar to Peter, since he was asked the same thing earlier in the night. Frustration blinded his vision, and he replied adamantly, “I am not!”

But another man challenged him, saying, “Didn’t I see you with him in the olive grove?” This was a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off. Peter, feeling even more defensive, denied the truth once more.

The men around the fire continued talking, but their words were a blur to Peter, who instead was listening to a sound off in the distance. It was the call of a rooster. Peter’s stomach dropped and the courtyard seemed to be spinning, for he immediately heard the words that Jesus had spoken to him a few days before echo through the night sky: “Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times…”

~ec

falling fences

Originally uploaded by Ellanora Marie

falling fences

watch
as the fences fall away

the sand
slips
through
my
fingers

these fingers that are numb with fear.

i am following
a pillar
of fire and smoke

but i cannot see my path
this path that i am on

walking by faith
with my eyes closed

-ec

To Kill A King ~ The Story of the Crucifixion {PART I}

*The following is the beginning section of a narrative I wrote for my Christian Perspectives course last semester. It is a literary adaptation of John 18-19. I will add more periodically, so stay tuned!*

By the dim glow of the moon, wiry branches wrote shadows on the ground of the olive grove. They were abstract, shaped like claws, ready to break the skin of its prey. Some branches had fallen from the heights; they cracked and crumbled under the weight of the men and their sandals. Jesus walked closely to his disciples, his friends, through the maze of trees until they reached a small clearing. They sat down to rest. Jesus was silent, even though he sensed the questions these companions of his wanted to ask. He knew they were restless, confused, trying to cultivate some logical conclusion, some comfort out of his already known destiny.

The words flew around, echoing against the walls of his own mind, and in the eyes of these men; the men who had become like his own flesh and blood, close to him like brothers. Jesus felt it in his soul, that his life’s purpose was to die. He wanted to hold on, to wait it out. Did it really have to be this way, the pain before the glory?

Suddenly, in the distance, a ball of fire appeared to be slowly moving toward them. It was a different kind of illumination, different from the moon… warmer, but also echoing with shouts of lies and betrayal. As they came closer, Jesus could feel knots in his stomach form. Judas was in the lead. The one he had called… he had called him a friend. Jesus knew that it was meant to be this way, but in that moment, his heart broke.

Behind Judas was a group of people, different kinds of people: soldiers, some religious officials, and, of course, a few of those Pharisees. In each of their hands, they held torches, lanterns, and weapons, as if they expected Jesus to put up a fight, or to push away the cup his Father had given him.

Jesus rose and met them where they were, knowing what would result. Looking into the eyes of Judas, Jesus saw nothing but the reflection of bouncing flames against the light of the moon.

Jesus was the first to speak: “Who is it you want?”

The men’s faces washed over with smug satisfaction. “Jesus of Nazareth,” one of them snarled.

Jesus felt conviction and courage rise up inside of him like a fire: “I am he.”

They were startled, and fell backwards towards the ground as if they needed to run and hide.

He asked them again, as if to make a point: Who are you looking for, really? Their reply was the same as before.

Without a waver in his voice, Jesus said firmly, “I told you that I am he. If you are looking for me, then let these men go.” He wanted to protect his own.

Simon Peter, feeling the need to protect also, drew out his sword, and in a wave of fury, slashed off the ear of Malchus, the servant of the high priest. The man dropped to his knees, grasping the wound and feeling frequent rushes of blood leaving his body, slipping through his fingers.
Jesus’ gaze shot toward Peter, and demanded he put away the weapon: “Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?”

And, with that, they bound Jesus with rope and took him away, pulling and pushing him along the path out of the forest.