When Jesus Wept

Chapter 4



If I imagined the psalm would serve as warning to bring the religious imposters to their knees, I was mistaken. By the time morning dawned, the number of mockers and soldiers in the camp of the Pharisees had doubled. And still more were marching toward the Jordan in hopes of killing the Lion before he could roar.

Even before we knew who Messiah was, our world was divided by John the Baptizer’s announcement that the Son was now among us.

We had awakened just before sunrise as bakers and fruit sellers moved among us with heaping baskets. Word that John had said the Messiah was present and about to be revealed had reached the tiny villages and farms in the surrounding countryside. Weavers had abandoned looms, and elder shepherds had left flocks to the hirelings to come.

With these newcomers, the presence of skeptics and armed soldiers had increased. Like locusts threatening my vineyards when the leaves were still new, the scoffers attempted to devour joy and expectation of what was to come.

We washed and hurried through the morning prayers as the spaces beside the riverbank began to fill. I purchased bread, cheese, dates, and nuts, and drank deeply from the sweet wine we had brought from home.

Judah wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you this was quite a circus.”

I gestured across the river toward a troop of uniformed Herodian foot soldiers who had arrived while we slept. They remained on the east side of the Jordan River, in the Perean territory belonging to their master, Herod Antipas.

We knew they would not cross over into the west where John the Baptizer stayed. The west was governed by Rome, which, so far at least, tolerated John’s preaching. The troops of Antipas could only wait like hungry jackals in hopes that the Baptizer would foolishly cross the watery border.

But John the Baptizer was no fool.

Judah nudged me hard as yet another disguised gang of armed watchers arrived on the west bank. “If there’s going to be violence, neither side is safe. Shall we stand in the middle of the river?” He leaned close. “I wonder where he is?”

I knew without further explanation to whom Judah’s query referred.

Judah pointed to distant rain clouds. “It’s going to rain. If he’s coming, he’d better get here soon.”

I surveyed the common folk, searching faces and expressions in hopes of spotting someone extraordinary. Children splashed in the shallow water. Women chatted. Young men carried themselves with a swagger, as though they were prepared now for the Son of David to lead them into battle. Old men frowned and remembered other wars and earlier messiahs who had come, which had instead led to disaster and defeat.

No more than a day’s journey from this place, the prophet Elijah had called down fire from heaven to destroy the enemies of righteousness. He had slaughtered pagan priests and turned back the troops of evil King Ahab and wicked Queen Jezebel in terror.

The Messiah would certainly wield that kind of power against the mockers and the tyrants who ruled our lives. All of us hoped, that morning, that if Messiah was among us, he would call down heavenly fire upon the forces who gathered on the west bank and lead us home in freedom.

Judah and I scrambled onto a boulder and observed as John the Baptizer, surrounded by disciples, arrived. The crowds parted and applauded.

A woman shouted, “Will Messiah come today?”

Others called out, “Where is he?”

“Who is he, John?”

“Show us who he is!”

Higher up the bank the mockers cried, “Yes, John! Herod Antipas wants to know where Messiah is hiding!”

“And why he is hiding!”

“Is the Messiah afraid of Herod Antipas?”

“Does he fear Rome?”

“Show us your deliverer!”

John bowed his head and prayed silently as the two camps hurled insults at each other.

“Traitors!”

“Rebels!”

“Hypocrites!”

“Ignorant, impious peasants!”

Dark storm clouds moved toward us. A gust of fresh wind touched my face, and I smelled approaching rain. I saw a flash of lightning and heard the low growl of thunder. The sky broke loose with a downpour, and suddenly hundreds scattered and ran for shelter.

Judah grabbed my arm as I turned to go. “Wait! Not fire this time, but rain. Look!” Judah pointed at the shaggy Baptizer who stood, fearless, in the water.

The Baptizer raised his hands and let the pelting rain wash his face.

I nodded and did not bother to cover my head with my cloak.

We watched as Herodian soldiers, Pharisees, and Temple lackeys scurried away like packs of drenched dogs to find shelter in the nearest villages. The clouds rolled after them, as if in pursuit of those who fled. Only a few hundred of us remained by the time the storm broke.

And there was John, undaunted, in the midst of the stream. His disciples, following his lead, remained with him, waiting.

The sun broke through, and a brilliant double rainbow sprouted and grew like a vine across the sky. Its unbroken arch spanned east and west.

John smiled behind his beard and looked past the remaining crowd. His words rang clear. “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”1

All eyes followed the wild man’s gaze. And then I saw the one John was talking about. He was an ordinary-looking young man about my age, I guessed. Brown hair parted in the middle. Strongly built. Dressed like a laborer who had just completed a long journey. He was wet, drenched to the skin, like all of us. He walked straight toward John and the river.

John proclaimed, “This is the one I meant when I said, ‘A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him, but the reason I came baptizing with water was that he might be revealed to Israel.”2

Judah and I moved nearer as the stranger waded into the water and stood before John. He put his hand on John’s shoulder and spoke in a quiet voice. John nodded once, sank to his knees in the water until the man blessed John, then helped him stand. The two men stood face-to-face for a long moment. Then, to my amazement, John baptized him, immersing him fully in the exact manner he had baptized the common folk of Israel.

Again the thunder rumbled, just above our heads. I imagined I heard, or rather felt, a deep voice in my chest.

“… beloved Son … I am well pleased … ”3

Had heaven spoken? Or was it only thunder and my imagination? I could not say for sure. Glancing at Judah, I asked, “Did you hear that?”

He nodded. “Thunderbolt. Too close. Danger here in the open.”

I waited a moment longer, then left Judah as the man emerged from the water and strode back toward the hills. It began to rain again as I hurried to the knot of men gathered around the Baptizer.

“Master! Is he truly the one?”

“What’s his name?”

“Did he tell you who he is?”

“His name is Jesus. He comes from Nazareth,” John explained.

They questioned, “But … Nazareth?”

“Can Messiah be a Nazarene?”

John said, “I saw the Spirit come down from heaven as a dove and remain on him. And I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water told me, ‘The man on whom you see the Spirit come down and remain is he who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.’ I have seen and I testify that this is God’s Chosen One.”4

It occurred to me that perhaps John was nothing more than a religious fanatic. Such fellows surfaced from time to time, then faded away. Still, I was curious.

What if …

Judah and I made our way back to the village in the pouring rain. All the rooms at the caravansary were filled, but I paid a poor man to vacate his place so we had shelter for the night.

Judah was disappointed when I told him that the Baptizer had said Jesus was from Nazareth. He shrugged. “So, it was just a thunderstorm after all. It will pass. Everyone knows Messiah can’t come from Galilee. If he was David’s son, he would be born in Bethlehem. That’s what the prophets say.”

I did not argue but thanked Judah for coming with me on the journey.

Judah clasped my hands in friendship. He told me he understood what I must be feeling and that this had been an amusement if nothing else. “I hoped you would find comfort by spending a few days among the rabble. Camping beneath the stars. Perhaps when you come home again you’ll be ready to find a new wife. I will pray for you.”

Judah’s comment stung me. Find a new wife? My grief was too deep to consider such a thing, even though I knew what he was hinting. It was as if my friend did not know my heart or understand the depth of my sorrow at all. I had lost my wife and my son. Every hope I had for the future had been wiped away. It was not so easy to shrug and decide to begin again.

I said, “You are a great comfort to me, my friend.”

But at that moment he was not.

As I spread my cloak on the fresh straw, I thought of the only woman I had ever loved. I wondered if I would ever find joy or hope or love again. The fire of sorrow burning in my heart had not been quenched by the rain. And Jesus, the ordinary-looking man whom John called “the Lamb of God,” did not match my vision of the Messiah. A lamb? Jesus had not roared like a lion, driving out our political oppressors as the people expected.

Nor had he delivered me from the tyranny of my loneliness. I was not ready to pick up the pieces of my shattered life just yet. I told myself with a wry smile that perhaps I would be a witness if Jesus of Nazareth baptized the world with fire from heaven. Now that would be a story! Something to help me forget what had happened. In truth, I intended this journey as a diversion to keep me from my empty house … my empty life.

I returned home just as sorrowful as when I had left it.