Lent 4 - 27/3/2022
Brutus goes to the garden.
“Festus. Festus! Get out here” It is the middle of the night and I am thumping on his door because our blockhead leader Claudius has a so called ‘important’ job for us.
“Festus!”
I hear muffled whispering and scurrying around. I smirk to myself.
“Festus?”
“I’m in bed”
“So I gather. Festus, our illustrious leader, thinks we need to go to a garden tonight and he’s picked you, me and a few other blokes because he loves us so much. We have to arrest a serious trouble maker. Now get your gear on and get out here. Tell what hers name the party’s over for tonight”
There is more scurrying and whispering before a bedraggled Festus emerges, hair askew and strapping his sword to his thigh. He stumbles after me all the while cursing me and Claudius.
“This is Judas” I explain to Festus and he’s going to introduce us to the rebel Jesus.
Judas hurriedly gives directions
“It’s at the garden at the end of the street on the way to market, just past The Dodgy brothers inn. You can’t miss it.”
More soldiers meet us at the end of the street with lanterns and weapons. It's a blitheringly cold night and like Festus I’m missing the warmth of my bed.
Next to fall into step with us are police, then chief priests and finally some Pharisees. The odd thing is that on any other night, in any other circumstance, on any other issue, there would be a serious difference of opinion and no one would agree on anything. There would be as many different solutions offered as there were people. Tonight though its different. We are marching as one and there is a sense of unity and purpose in the air. None of us want to be out and we are grimly determined to get this over with.
Judas leads us straight to a group of about 10 or so people huddled together singing songs. By the way they are singing I think they may have had a few strawberry milkshakes.
We surround the little clan but we all know why we are here and for whom we are here.
I catch a glimpse of his face in the lantern lights. It’s oddly familiar but I can’t quite place it. He steps forward and asks who we are looking for. He speaks clearly, confidently and without any fear. Odd because if I was surrounded by this group of people I would be needing a change in uniform.
‘Who are you looking for?’
This is going to be cinch.
But then something in his voice sparks my memory. I recognise the calm, confident and even compassionate timbre of his voice. It’s melodic without being soppy. Strong without overbearing and grumpy. There must be some mistake. Not this guy. Surely. This is the same Jesus that healed Claudius’s servant.
In his sneering boisterous way Festus yells out
“We’re looking for Jesus of Nazareth.”
Jesus responds
“I am he” Simple but it says it all. No case of mistaken identity here. The guy has fessed up but his response prompts some of the religious leaders to go weak at the knees for reasons I don’t understand.
So again he asks us,
‘Who are you looking for?’
Festus can see he’s on a roll and just wants to go home so he yells
‘Jesus of Nazareth.’
Jesus answers
‘I told you . It’s me… So if you are looking for me, let these men go.’
Which we cheerfully do. No point in cluttering up perfectly good cells with people we don’t need.
Festus does one of his famous rugby tackles and knocks this guy flat. We pull him up to his feet, bind his hands together and we march off into the night. His so called friends have all run away and off we go. Easy pickings.
But in my head there are two things that are bothering me.
One is the calm and resolute way that this guy met us. It’s almost as if he knew we were comin’ for him long before we ever knew. Almost like this was all part of some bigger plan and it is us that are the pawns in the game not him. He is actually the King.
The other thing that worries me is the possibility that we have made a mistake. Yet Judas has always been one of our most reliable informants. His information has always been accurate. People are exactly who he said, they are where he said and when. Tonight was no different.
Could it be that a healer, someone who mends bodies, his about to have his own pulverised?
It’s dark now. And I am back in bed. The adrenaline frightens sleep away. The whole thing was over very easily and very quickly. I can still see his face. A question tumbles through my mind.
Who was really in control here?
Tomorrow life will go on… I’ll get up, put on the uniform, extort, belittle and intimidate; have a great time… … and yet… and yet…