When Jesus Wept Read Free Page A

my shoulders. I was certain that by the time I returned from my pilgrimage, Martha would have packed up Eliza’s personal belongings, removing all trace of her from the house, and distributed her clothing to the poor. Though they did not speak of it, I knew Judah and Martha had planned my journey to remove me from this final act of letting go.
    By noon the broad way had narrowed. Judah and I were far from alone on the dusty road leading down from Jerusalem to the wilderness of the Jordan. Word about John, who was called“the Baptizer,” had spread far and wide. The hungry hearts of my oppressed people were stirred by the rumor and the hope. Bands of common folk flocked to hear his preaching. Those moving down from the mountains were met by returning pilgrims. An excited murmur passed from one group to another. Was John the long-awaited Messiah of Israel?
    The first night of our journey, campfires dotted the rugged hillsides. I gathered sage and made a small fire. We spread our cloaks and settled in. After our meal, Judah closed his eyes and fell asleep. I lay on my back and studied the vast, star-studded canopy above me. Countless jewels glistened in the moonless night. I remembered the Lord’s promise to Abraham—that his descendants would be as many as the stars in the sky and the sands of the seashore. How could this ancient promise be true?
    In recent years under Tiberius, there had been a slaughter of thousands of observant Jews. Thirty years before tonight, this very road had been lined with crucified Jewish leaders who had refused to worship the Roman emperor. Thirty years before tonight’s tranquil sky, a slaughter of innocent children in the vicinity of Bethlehem had occurred when a rumor surfaced that an infant king had been born there. Shortly after that, the dynasty of Maccabee priests had been killed off. Now Rome had replaced righteous leaders in the Temple with corrupt puppets like Caiaphas and Annas. History proved that from the beginning, the great political powers of earth were determined to destroy our identity as Jews. Two hundred years earlier, the wars of the Maccabees had been waged against the Greek Empire for the sake of our religious freedom to worship and live as Jews. Jews had won our right to worship the God of Abraham at a great price.
    Under the rule of the first generation of Maccabees, weremained a free and holy people, dedicated to the One True God. Then, year by year as our elders passed away, the sacrifices of our freedom fighters were forgotten. For the sake of convenience, new Jewish leaders made alliances with Rome. For the sake of Rome’s protection, we had given up our freedom and our identity. We were now in exactly the same situation as we had been when Judah Maccabee fought against the Greeks who required our people to offer polluted sacrifices to pagan gods.
    Who would stand up to Rome? Where was the savior of our people? How could we now withstand the persecutions of Rome and remain a people who worshiped the One True God?
    I whispered my evening prayers and then spoke in my heart to heaven: If ever there was a moment when we need the Messiah, now is the time .

    The shuffling footsteps of a multitude awakened me the next morning. As the road narrowed, the flood of pilgrims overflowed as they surged away from Jerusalem and toward the Jordan, trampling the wildflowers on the hillside. The crowd increased at each byway and crossroad.
    My fellow travelers were made up mostly of young, strong men. Unlike the joyful families who normally choked the highways during religious holidays, these fellows were of military age and had the lean look of rebellion fixed on their faces. As they passed us, they glanced askance at Judah’s mounts staked out and placidly grazing. The am ha aretz —the people of the land—had no resources to keep animals as costly as horses. It made us suspect to them as well.
    Judah inclined his head toward a heap of boulders thatformed a sort of gate above