MONDAY
A smile spread
across Jerry Francis’ face as he slept. He was having a vivid dream. In the
dream, Jerry and his family were laughing and playing in the backyard of their
suburban Connecticut home. Jerry was pitching Wiffle balls to his son Michael,
age seven, who took mighty swings with a yellow plastic bat. Jerry’s wife
Brenda and their daughter Jennifer, age nine, retrieved the balls and offered
encouragement and the occasional playful taunt whenever Michael swung and
missed.
Then Jerry’s dream
became murky. He seemed to hear low, rumbling sounds that enveloped the entire
backyard. Then Brenda, Michael, and Jennifer began to fade from his sight.
Jerry wanted to yell, “Wait, come back! Don’t go!” but he was immobile and
unable to speak. His family completely disappeared from view. Now the low
rumbling sounds became more distinct, and were transformed into actual words.
“Wake. Up.
Jeremiah.”
Jerry grunted in
confusion. “Wake up,” he heard more clearly now. The dream was over, and
consciousness took control of his brain. Jerry opened his eyes and saw Benjamin
towering above him.
“Wake up,
Jeremiah,” Benjamin said again.
“I’m up, I’m up,”
Jerry grunted, not really sure whether he was still dreaming or indeed awake.
He propped himself up on an elbow and looked around. He saw Benjamin standing
next to him, and there were two other men on the far side of the small room.
The full effect of the dank and smelly air now hit Jerry’s nostrils. He winced.
Then he looked down and realized he was lying on a pile of straw on top of the
dirt floor. “What the—” he muttered. “This isn’t a dream, it’s a nightmare.”
Jerry sat up and
yawned. He looked around the room again, now with more focused eyes. All the
images of the previous day flooded back to him. Vinny’s house. Yankees game.
Car accident. Dirt road. Palm trees. Benjamin. Daggers. Jerusalem. Jesus. Jesus?
Did I really see Jesus yesterday? Jerry thought. What is going on
here?! Suddenly he longed for his family. He closed his eyes tightly and tried
to force his brain to return to the dream, to Brenda and Mikey and Jenny and
the Wiffle ball and the backyard. Tears seeped between his eyelids and trickled
down his cheeks.
“Jeremiah, I have
great news!” Benjamin said loudly, startling Jerry into opening his eyes. “I
just found out that Jesus is going to the Temple courtyards today. Come on, we
must hurry.” He reached down and grabbed Jerry’s arm and helped him to his
feet. “Maybe today will be the day we get to kill some Romans, eh?” Benjamin
added in a cheery voice.
“Kill Romans? I
don’t wanna kill Romans,” Jerry said softly. “I wanna hug Brenda. I wanna play
Wiffle ball with my kids. I wanna go home.”
Just then a loud
rapping sound came from the door. “He’s here!” Benjamin said excitedly.
One of the other men in the room
went to the door and cautiously said, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Simon,”
came the reply. “Hurry, open up!” Upon hearing this, the man inside the room
slid back the bolt and pulled the door open. A small, wiry man hurried through
the doorway and shut the door tightly behind him.
The men in the
room greeted the man with handshakes and hugs. Then the man noticed Jerry
standing against the wall and said suspiciously, “Who’s he?”
Benjamin said,
“His name is Jeremiah. Don’t worry, Simon, he’s one of us.” Then Benjamin
grabbed Jerry’s arm and pulled him forward. “Simon,” he said, “I want you to
meet Jeremiah. Jeremiah from, uh, where’d you say you’re from again?”
“Hamden,” Jerry
answered.
“Jeremiah of
Hamden,” Benjamin said. “And Jeremiah, this is Simon, but some people call him
‘The Zealot.’”
Simon reached out
and shook Jerry’s hand. He smiled at Jerry and said, “Hamden, where’s that,
near Joppa by the Sea?”
“Um yeah, Joppa,
New Haven, Bridgeport, whatever,” Jerry mumbled.
“So you’re one of
us, huh?” Simon said. “And you want to kill Romans as much as we do?”
Jerry hesitated
and said, “Well, I, uh, the thing is—”
“Of course he
wants to kill Romans!” Benjamin bellowed confidently. “He is a fine addition to
our group.” Then turning to Jerry, Benjamin explained, “Simon is the one who
told us all about the Nazarene, Jesus. Simon told us that Jesus plans to usher
in a new kingdom in Israel. And you know what that means, don’t you, Jeremiah?
It means the Romans will be gone, and we’ll have our nation to ourselves once
again! And the best part is,” Benjamin continued, “Simon is one of Jesus’
disciples. Not just part of the big crowd that follows him, but part of his
inner circle, his hand-picked twelve disciples.”
“That’s right,”
Simon said with a nod. “It’s just too bad the other disciples are so dense.
They don’t understand Jesus’ full potential. They’re more focused on prayers
and sermons, so they don’t realize Jesus has the charisma to inspire our nation
to take up arms and drive the hated Romans from our land forever!”
At this, all the
men in the room offered up a hearty cheer. Jerry looked around the room
nervously and forced a smile when he made eye contact with one of the other
men.
“Come on,” said
Benjamin. “We must go.”
*
* *
Jerry walked past
the massive columns of the Temple, gazing upward with the same astonished
expression he had displayed as an eight-year-old when his father took him to
Yankee Stadium for the first time. The Temple courts were buzzing with
activity. The five men had to navigate through thick crowds. Then Simon called
out, “There he is. Follow me!”
The men changed
direction and pushed their way across a wide courtyard. The crowd became so
thick they could hardly move. Jerry looked up and saw a man standing above the
throng. He must be on a platform or some
steps, Jerry thought. They pushed a little closer, then Jerry heard the man
shout, “It is written, ‘My house will be called a house of prayer.’ But you
have made it a den of thieves!”
The crowd shouted
with approval. Then Jerry saw the man step to his side, and with a quick, fluid
motion, he clutched the edge of a table and flipped it over. Coins went flying
in all directions. The crowd responded with a roar twice as loud as before. The
man kept moving, slapping items off other tables as men in ornate robes jumped
out of the way in shock. Frantic cries of distress could be heard amid the
steady roar of the crowd.
The man came to a
stack of what appeared to be wooden crates. He yanked the flimsy sides off the
crates and dozens of birds fluttered out and begin to fly in circles overhead.
The crowd roared again. Jerry stood nearby, his mouth agape, and thought to
himself, That must be Jesus. Wow.
The people whose
merchandise had been scattered finally overcame their shock and begin moving
toward Jesus. But before they reached him, Jesus grabbed a piece of rope and
swung it like a whip. He started thrashing the rope back and forth, and the
other men instantly changed direction and retreated.
The crowd became
frenzied. In addition to the loud roar, people began to move toward Jesus.
Benjamin hugged Jerry and yelled, “This is it! The revolution begins now!” He
opened the front of his robe to reveal the dagger hanging from his belt. He
took hold of the weapon and shouted with ecstatic glee, “Let us liberate
Israel! Let us spill the blood of the Romans!!” He ran forward leaving Jerry
behind.
Jerry pressed his
arm along the side of his body and felt his dagger. He left the weapon safely
hidden underneath his robe.
Just then
squadrons of soldiers entered the courtyard area from two different directions.
The soldiers pushed their way toward the overturned tables and the empty
crates. The crowd hissed and booed. Jerry looked at the soldiers, who were
dressed in strange black hats and tunics. He thought to himself, They don’t
look like Roman soldiers—at least not the Roman soldiers I’ve seen in history
books and Hollywood movies.
Jerry saw a
soldier strike someone with the butt end of a long spear. Another person was
pushed to the ground. The crowd’s sound changed from a high-pitched roar of
excitement to a lower pitched rumble of fear. A wave of humanity began to
pulsate toward Jerry. “Uh oh,” he muttered. “Panic time. This is starting to
look like a European soccer riot.” Jerry turned and moved as quickly as he
could back in the direction he came from.
After a few
minutes of frantically scrambling to stay ahead of the wave, Jerry ducked
around a corner and climbed up onto a short wall. The sea of terrified people
rushed by. Within ten minutes, the frenzy was over. The vast courtyard was
quiet again, with a handful of people milling about. Some assisted those who
had stumbled. Others lay motionless. I bet they’re dead, Jerry thought.
The soldiers regrouped against a far wall, and then exited.
Jerry hopped down
from the low wall and made his way out of the Temple courtyards. When he came
to an intersection, he stopped and looked around the strange and ancient city.
“Now what do I do?” he said out loud. Tears began to well up in his eyes.
He walked down a
long, straight street, which he remembered as the road they traveled to come to
the Temple. I guess I should try to find
Benjamin, he thought. I guess I
should go back to that small room—if I can even find it.
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