A Unique Look at Holy Week part 7

Last week, we began the story of Achim. We’ve followed his path to Caiaphas’ house, Pilate and Herod, and back to Pilate. Each step of the way, we’ve learned a bit more about him and about that first Holy Week. Today, we have the final installment.

The last several days had been a blur for Achim. After the hours spent at the foot of the cross and watching as Yeshua breathed his last breath, Yochanan had escorted Achim along with Mariam and the other women back to what he called the “upper room”. From what Achim could gather it was where Yeshua had held the seder. Achim learned a woman by the name of Mary owned the home. He never could figure out how many people actually stayed there. The men used the upper room while the women stayed somewhere downstairs. Yochanan had showed Achim to a mat, and the boy had gratefully collapsed on to it. On the first day of the week, Achim awoke to shouts.

“Yochanan! Shimon!” a woman’s voice called. “Come quickly! They have taken the rabbi!”

“What?” Shimon shouted. “I’ll kill them, every one of them!”

Shimon took off running toward the tomb. Yochanan ran and grabbed his coat before heading out the door. Achim followed his new friend. Before long, they had caught up to Shimon. Yochanan ran past the older fisherman. Achim couldn’t breathe. His lungs heaved as he tried to keep up with the young man. When the boy didn’t think he could handle it another moment, he stumbled into Yochanan who was standing looking into a cave.

Achim glanced around the side of the door to look. He barely had taken everything in when Shimon pushed through and walked right in! No surprise shown on Yochanan’s face. Achim couldn’t believe Shimon’s boldness.

“What have they done?” Shimon’s voice had changed from the outrage registered in the upper room to quiet wonder.

Yochanan entered to see what had caused the modification. Achim followed. What the boy saw amazed him! He had expected to see a dark dank cave with dead bodies, like he had seen at Momma’s burial. Instead, his eyes saw clean white walls and an emptiness that almost welcomed people to relax and stay a while. None of the niches had been used yet. It was a fresh new tomb. Then Achim’s eyes landed on the spot where the men and women had placed Yeshua. Only two folded sheets lay there! One lay at the foot of the niche and one at the head. Each had been neatly and carefully set in their spot.

“It can’t be!” For the first time since their meeting in Caiaphas’ house, Yochanan’s voice held hope. “He hasn’t been taken; he’s alive!”

Achim’s mind reeled. How could Yeshua be alive? That made no sense. Yochanan turned and walked out of the cave with his head held high. Achim looked to Shimon, but the man seemed to be in his own little world of grief. Achim understood. The woman, her hair a mess, had finally caught up and came in. Hysteria showed on her face as well as a deep sorrow. Achim followed Yochanan. The boy heard the birds singing their songs. Flowers let their scent hang in the air for all to smell. The color in the early morning sky blended into even the path they walked.

“Yochanan,” Achim finally asked, “what can it mean?”

A smile broke out upon the man’s face. It made him appear even younger than he was.

“Achim, you had asked about the wonders Yeshua performed. Once we saw him raise a man who had been dead for four days! Yep,” he nodded when Achim stared in wonder. “I saw it with my own eyes. Lazarus had been wrapped up in the burial cloths just like Yeshua was. When the rabbi called Lazarus by name, he walked out of the tomb—or better yet waddled like a duck. His arms couldn’t move, they’d been pinned to his side. His face had been hidden from the sudarium. Yeshua’s first words were to unwrap Lazarus!”

Achim envisioned the moment. What joy he would have felt had Momma been in Lazarus’ place. He came back to the case of Yeshua’s tomb. This story of Lazarus did not explain how the rabbi could be alive. Yochanan seemed to sense Achim’s questions.

“Did you see the shroud and the sudarium?”

Achim nodded. “They were folded with care, almost deliberately.”

“Exactly,” Yochanan agreed. “If someone had stolen the rabbi’s body, they wouldn’t have taken the time to leave the cloths. They would have wanted to keep him wrapped up. But,” here Yochanan paused in walking and held up a finger. “But, if he had risen, he would have carefully unwrapped himself and left the pieces for evidence.”

Achim wasn’t sure he followed the man’s logic, but the hope and joy that shown from Yochanan’s eyes was refreshing. The two walked the rest of the way in silence.

Shortly after they had returned to the upper room, the woman they had followed entered. Her face radiated from a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

“He is alive!” she said barely above a whisper. Then she shouted it. “He’s alive!”

Yochanan nodded his head, encouraging her. Achim marveled at the change in the two. She had been so hysterical and mourning all weekend. Now, joy and hope seemed to pulse through her spreading to all.

“I saw him!” she exclaimed. “I saw him!”

“Where?” Yochanan asked.

“In the garden outside the tomb. After you and Shimon left, I saw two men in bright white tunics. They lit up the tomb. I asked where they had taken the rabbi. They replied he was risen, but I couldn’t comprehend it. I turned around and saw a man. I thought it was the gardener. I pleaded with him to show me where he had moved Yeshua. He only smiled, that sad smile. You know when we didn’t understand something. Then he called my name!” Her smile seemed plastered permanently in place. Gone was the sorrow. In its place shown joy and peace.

Achim wondered at it. How could this be?

Later, Shimon returned. Achim noticed immediately the change in the big fisherman. He sat quietly. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears while his smile never left his face. All he would say was, “I saw him. He’s alive.”

Achim shook his head. Was it possible? Two people had physically seen Yeshua. Other women, including Mariam had seen angels who said he was alive. Inwardly, Achim struggled. He knew the rabbi could do wonders, but this was beyond anything that Yeshua had done before.

All afternoon, Achim wrestled with the question. He sat thinking through the possibilities. Finally, toward the evening meal, he had condensed his arguments down to three. He ticked them off on his fingers. Option one, Yeshua was a liar. Achim shook his head. He had seen too many proofs against this. Option two, Yeshua was a lunatic. Again Achim shook his head. Those eyes of love, compassion, hope, and tenderness were not the eyes of a crazy man. That left only one other choice. Yeshua was God. A sigh escaped the boy. He recalled the nighttime conversation with Yochanan. Yeshua’s young friend had said the rabbi had claimed to be the great shepherd, the bread of life, the way, the light of the world, the door, and the resurrection and the life. If Yeshua claimed to be these things that only God is, and if Yeshua was telling the truth, then that meant only one thing. Achim straightened up.

“He is alive, and He is God!” the boy whispered.

“What was that, Achim?” Yochanan asked looking up from where he sat at a table with Shimon.

Achim felt the blood rush to his cheeks, but he looked Yochanan in the eyes and repeated louder. “Yeshua is alive, and He is God. This is something that will require child-like faith to accept.”

Yochanan smiled. “Yes, that is exactly what Yeshua said.”

“I know,” Achim felt a tear steal from his eye. “I heard him. I had gone searching for healing for Momma, and instead, I was used as an object lesson.”

Shimon turned around. Achim noticed the fisherman’s eyes shown with kindness and understanding.

“What happened?”

Achim shrugged. “I never asked Yeshua to heal Momma. At the time it didn’t seem to be important. Later,” He paused and wiped a tear away. “Later, I wished I had.” Silence hung in the air. Voices drifted up from down below. “I guess, if I had, I would have never been here for this weekend.”

Yochanan smiled, but before he could respond, the door burst open and two men who had left earlier in the day came in gasping.

“We’ve seen him!” they both said stumbling over each others’ words. “He came to us on the way home.”

“He shared from the prophets how the Messiah was suppose to suffer!” the one continued allowing his companion to catch his breath. “We wondered at his teaching, but we didn’t recognize him.”

The other man picked up the story. “When we arrived at Emmaus, we invited him in for a bite to eat. There while he prayed, our eyes were able to truly see him!”

“We ran back to tell you all,” the first finished.

“He is alive!” Yochanan agreed.

“I have seen him,” Shimon said and began to relay the happenings earlier that day.

As they were talking, Achim looked up. A man stood at the head of the table! No one had been there before; Achim was sure of it! A gasp went up from someone across the room, a scream from elsewhere.

“Shalom,” Yeshua said.

Achim sat in amazement. It was one thing to say the rabbi was God and had risen; it was quite another to see the man appear out of nowhere. It took some time for the commotion to settle down. Everyone talked at once. Finally, Yeshua asked for something to eat. Yochanan handed the teacher some bread. As he ate, he went over the Scriptures, explaining how they spoke of the Messiah not just His reigning over the kingdom of heaven, but also how He would suffer, die, and come back to life.

Achim’s mind sang the phrases over and over. “He is alive; He is God. He is alive; He is God.”

Achim is a fictional character, but his backstory and the happenings he witnesses are based on accounts in the gospels. I have drawn from Matthew, Luke, and John mostly to tell the story. If you are like Achim, wondering who Jesus claimed to be, I’d recommend these resources from Lee Strobel. He has videos about who Christ is and the prophecies concerning the Messiah.

A Unique Look at Holy Week part 6

Our story began in the garden. Achim followed Yeshua from one place in Yerushalem to another. Now Achim and Yochanan wait outside Herod’s palace.

“Achim,” Yochanan’s voice brought him back to the present. “Are you okay?”

The boy shook his head and rubbed his hands together to warm them. “Just thinking.”

“We have plenty of time for that,” Yochanan agreed. He sighed, a deep, heavy sound that said more than any words. “I remember the first years with Yeshua.”

Achim looked on with interest. What was it like to have traveled and lived with the rabbi?

“We thought the world of him, but we weren’t sure who he was. It wasn’t until the last year or so that we began to believe, truly hope, that he was the promised one. We saw the miracles, the people healed, the blind given sight, the dead brought back to life. It was unbelievable, and yet it was real. What was even more so was the way he treated everyone. He had utmost compassion. His tears were never for himself, but for others.”

Yochanan paused. The night silence hung heavy in the air. Achim shivered.

“His teachings were like no other rabbi. He spoke with power, authority. He loved us, and it showed through his words and his actions. Then last week, he rode through the gates of Yerushalem on a donkey with the crowd shouting Hosanna. We thought the kingdom had come.”

Achim’s mind went back to the day he had met Yeshua and Yochanan’s question of who would be greatest in the kingdom. These friends of Yeshua had expected the kingdom right then and there.

“Then in the midst of all that glory and excitement, Yeshua began to cry!” Yochanan said. “I thought they were happy tears, but Yeshua began to talk about Yerushalem and how it would be destroyed! Then tonight after the seder, he was quiet and talked about dying. It made no sense, and now he has been arrested. What are we going to do?”

Achim knew there was no answer to give; so, he stood and mulled over the situation. Was Yeshua the promised one? Yochanan had mentioned the seder. Achim’s mind filled with memories with Momma when they would celebrate the meal. How could he have lost track of the time and not know it was passover? That would explain the crowds in Yerushalem. He shook his head. What were the Sanhedrin thinking? How could a kind man be arrested?

In the middle of his thoughts, the guard down the road shifted. Achim watched the Roman soldier. The man turned and opened the gate. Out came men, the Sanhedrin, Achim guessed. Their movement was rapid and purposeful, and yet Achim sensed they had not had their way. After they passed the doorway he and Yochanan hid in, Achim saw a man in a beautiful robe fit for a king. He walked slowly, as if he dreaded each step and yet knew it must be made. He glanced ahead, and Achim’s heart stopped in his throat. It was Yeshua! Two Roman soldiers trailed behind him holding the rope that bound Yeshua’s hands behind his back. A hand on Achim’s arm, pulled him farther into the shadows.

“Achim,” Yochanan whispered in the boy’s ear, “come back here. You’ll get us caught.”

Achim moved until his back touched the stone wall behind him. Once all echos of footsteps faded from their ears, Yochanan let go of the boy’s arm. Achim shot out of the doorway as silently and as rapidly as a cat after a mouse. He followed the direction the men had gone. He heard Yochanan lumbering behind him. He didn’t care. He had to find where they were taking Yeshua. Before, long, he saw them ahead. They seemed to be returning to the temple area. Achim’s mind raced. Where were they going? Then as if a missing piece of Momma’s dough had been dropped back into its place, Achim understood. He slowed to a walk. Yochanan’s heavy breathing caught up with him.

“Boy,” Yochanan panted between words. “What. Were. You thinking?”

Achim shook his head. “I had to know where they were taking him.”

Yochanan straightened up from having his hands on his knees. “Back to Pilate, of course. Only Pilate can issue the death sentence.”

Achim felt his eyes grow wide at the thought. “Buy why would he do that?”

“Why condemn Yeshua to death?” Yochanan voiced the question Achim could only think. “They don’t like him claiming to be God.”

Again, shock radiated through Achim’s small frame. God? How could that be? There was only one God; how could a man be God? As if reading the boy’s questions, Yochanan began to walk and talk.

“Yeshua constantly talked about being the Son of the living God. Not only did he say God was his father, he also claimed to have the same characteristics as God. Remember King David’s powerful psalm about God being the shepherd?” Yochanan waited for Achim to nod and then continued. “Yeshua claimed to be the great shepherd. At passover, we remember the journey out of Egypt and through the wilderness. What did the children of Israel eat in the desert?”

Achim answered without a pause. It was known to everyone. “Mana, a bread-like wafer.”

Yochanan nodded. “Yeshua said he was the bread of life. There are many others. He also said there was no other way to the father but through him. This teaching goes against everything the religious rulers teach. They can’t let him live.”

Achim understood. “You said you saw the blind given sight, and the lame walk.”

Yochanan replied with a short nod of his head.

“You saw the dead come to life?”

Again a head nod.

“Those are things only God can do. Yeshua must at least be a great prophet. But would a prophet of God lie about the rest?”

Yochanan shook his head. “That is why I follow him. I want to know. If he is truly the Son of God, he will prevail. My faith is in Him.”

Discussion halted as they reached the Antionia Fortress. A crowd had formed. Achim noticed people other than the Sanhedrin milling around. They seemed sleepy-eyed and restless. As Achim gazed up at the tower, he saw streaks of light coloring the dull sky. Day had arrived.

“Mariam?” Yochanan said, drawing Achim’s gaze from the morning light. “What are you doing here?”

Achim saw three women. Their heads covered properly but tears shown in their eyes and stained their faces.

“Yochanan, I could not sit by and let them harm him,” one of the women replied. Her voice reminded Achim of Momma.

“That is why we came as well,” another explained. “It was unfair to make Mariam wait in the upper room. We came to provide her company.”

Yochanan shook his head and ushered the women to a wall. However, there was no place out of the way. It was as if the morning light had drawn the inhabitants of Yerushalem to Pilate. Even now, a voice pierced the lightening street.

“Citizens of Yerushalem, it is my custom to deliver to you a prisoner on the passover. This year, I will give you a choice. Do you wish Barrabas, the known murderer and insurrectionist, or Yeshua, the teacher?”

To Achim’s horror, the crowd around him raised their voices as one. “Barrabas, Barrabas, Barrabas.”

The chant echoed off the walls and cobblestone road.

“No,” Mariam’s cry barely reached Achim’s ears. No one else seemed to even have heard.

The crowd grew silent; so the voice continued. “But neither I nor Herod found anything worthy of death in Yeshua. Again, I ask, do you wish Barrabas or Yeshua?”
The sing-song lilt of voices again took up the murderer’s name. Yochanan put an arm around Mariam’s shoulder. Achim noticed the woman was crying into the young man’s shoulder.

“Fine,” anger seemed to radiate from the man talking above the crowd. Achim couldn’t see him, but his voice was strong enough for all to hear. “Then what am I to do with Yeshua, who is called the messiah?”

Achim felt the fervor of the mob in the street. They swarmed toward the fortress, and even more people seemed to fill the small road. The group he was with was pushed closer to the fortress. No longer were they able to have their backs against the wall and stay in the shadows. The crowd threw their hands up in the air as if to emphasize the words that poured from their mouths as one voice.

“Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Achim couldn’t hear himself think. The pulsing beat of the chant filled him, causing his heart to pound in rhythm. An elbow banged against the boy’s head. Rough arms pushed him against Yochanan. As Achim righted himself, he saw the young man had his other arm protectively around Mariam. The other two women huddled close to her.

“Again, I ask why? What wrong has Yeshua committed?” the voice pleaded from over the mob, but there was no reasoning with them.

They shouted all the louder. “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

More pushing and shoving buffeted Achim and the small group with him. He wondered what would happen next. Would a riot start? The owner of the voice, seemed to come to the same conclusion as Achim, for he changed tactics.

“Fine,” the crowd strained to hear the words. “I do not find anything wrong with him.”

The air filled with the sound of jeers. Before they could get louder, the voice continued.

“But I will do as you have asked. He shall be crucified.”

Achim felt the shift in Yochanan’s weight and glanced over. Mariam had slumped against the young man. The two woman held their faces in their hands. Without understanding, Achim’s heart broke for them. He had no idea who they were, but they were crying as he had when the doctor had said Momma had died.

The crowd pushed, shoved, and jostled the small group. Achim almost lost sight of Yochanan. The young man grabbed Achim’s arm and held on. The strength in the man’s arms surprised the boy. As if in a nightmare, the group finally found a safe place to stand where they were not caught up in the stream of humanity.

Achim stared in shock and horror when sometime later, the roadway cleared. Soldiers marched down the streets. People lined every corner and free space along the edges. Behind the soldiers came a man carrying the heavy wooden beams of an execution. In morbid fascination, Achim watched as the man stumbled, caught himself, and straightened back up under the weight. Another soldier came next and then another man with the beams of a cross. As rotten vegetables bounced off the man, he leered at the crowd and shouted obscenities. Achim almost thought he had missed Yeshua. The gap between the leering man and next soldier widened. Then the loud strident voice of a man accustomed to being obeyed filled the air.

“Make way! You,” a short pause, “carry this man’s cross.”

Achim strained to see, but the crowd pressed in around them. When the people moved again, Achim saw a burly soldier marching. He swung his sword in front of him to clear the way. Achim hopped back. A man with arms that would have rivaled Shimon’s strained with the large wooden beams. The crowd pelted the man with verbal abuse.

Suddenly time stood still. Achim heard Mariam suck in her breath. At the same moment, brown eyes full of sadness, compassion, and love pierced Achim’s. The boy barely had time to comprehend what he was seeing before the moment passed. With faltering steps, a beaten, bloodied man continued down the road. Around his head thorns the length of a man’s index finger created a crown. Blood poured down his face and stained his garments. Yet, despite the horrific scene, Achim had seen something else in the gaze. Besides sadness, beyond compassion, and even more amazing than the love, Achim had glimpsed hope! Did Yeshua even now still believe he would not die?

The crowd pushed and pulled at Achim. Some moved back into the city and their daily lives, while others followed the condemned. Yochanan guided the women toward Yerushalem’s outer walls.

The memories from that night and the day that followed would forever be etched on Achim’s memory. As clear as the day Achim first met Yeshua, would be the day the boy watched Yeshua die.

Follow the conclusion to Achim’s story.

A Unique Look at Holy Week part 5

The night has not been restful for Achim as he follows Yeshua across Yerushalem. The night is about ready to change to morning, but there’s still no relaxing for Achim.

They waited in the shadows, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. Before too long, voices rose above the walls of the fortress, angry and demanding. Achim looked at Yochanan. What was going on? He wondered. Yochanan just shrugged. The front gate lumbered open. Achim watched as a man walked out with a bowed head. His steps indicated extreme exhaustion. The moon, which had been dancing with the clouds, shone full on him as Roman soldiers took his arms to direct him down the street. It was Yeshua! Where were they taking him now?

Yochanan grabbed Achim’s shoulder and pulled him back farther into the shadows. After the soldiers came the Sanhedrin. Achim noticed their once bright clothing was beginning to look dull and wrinkled. Once everyone had walked back toward Caiaphas’ house, Yochanan let go of Achim’s shoulder.

“Let’s go, but be quiet,” the man said.

Achim rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to be told to be quiet. He lived on these streets. He was more worried about Yochanan making too much noise. If they were caught, Achim didn’t want to think what the consequences would be. Without a sound, he exited the shadows and trailed the crowd past the temple far above them and Caiaphas’ house, back the way Achim had come originally.

“Herod!” Achim whispered.

Yochanan looked at him. “What?”

“They’re taking Yeshua to Herod.”

Dread filled the boy. He had heard tales of Herod’s cruelties to those convicted of crimes. From the look in Yochanan’s eye, he knew the implications.

Back through the quiet streets of the upper city they traveled. No lights shown from these homes. Their occupants had already settled in for a good night’s sleep. Achim let his mind wander to what it had been like to have a place to call home. Warmth and happiness filled him until Yochanan stuck out a hand and stopped him. Herod’s palace stood in front of them, a guard at the gate. The crowd had also paused. Achim imagined the soldiers giving a scroll to the guard. The guard would have to read it and then let them in. When the group moved on, Yochanan stayed put.

“We can’t go any closer. If we are caught, we will be added to the trial as criminals.”

Achim looked questioningly at the man. “Why? What have we done?”

Yochanan rubbed a hand across his face. “We have been with Yeshua. That is all it takes. Why do you think Shimon swore he didn’t know the man? He’s afraid. We’re all afraid. We all ran and left him.”

Shame filled his voice, and his words trailed off to nothing. Achim felt sad for the young man. The wait against the cold stone wall reminded Achim of Momma. He had waited in the middle of the night to hear about her.

“Go, Achim,” Momma had said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Get the physician.”

Achim had dreaded hearing this order. It meant Momma had finally given in to the pain that wracked her body. He ran with all his might to the doctor’s house.

“Please, rabbi,” he had said, “please come help Momma.”

The man had grabbed his bag and followed Achim, much slower than the boy wanted to travel, back to his home. There Achim was told to wait, out in the cold night air. He waited and waited. Achim tracked the moon’s path through the sky. Finally, when the boy had given up and the cold had seeped into his soul, the door of his house opened. The doctor paused to touch the doorpost, then closed the door behind him. His footsteps were even more sedate than before. Achim stood rooted to the spot, not able to move, fear gripping and cementing him in place.

“Ah, Achim,” the doctor said as he caught sight of the boy. “I am so sorry. There is nothing I can do to help her. I will get the women to come and take care of her body.”

“No!” the boy screamed. “No! Do something. You have to do something!”

The physician took the boys arms and held them from pounding the man’s chest. With gentle but forceful guidance he directed Achim away from Momma. The days that followed had been a blur for the boy. Only two things had stood out, Momma was gone and he had no place to live.

“Achim,” Yochanan’s voice brought him back to the present. “Are you okay?”

The boy shook his head and rubbed his hands together to warm them. “Just thinking.”

“We have plenty of time for that,” Yochanan agreed.

Part 6 available.

A Unique Look at Holy Week Part 4

Our story of Achim begins in the garden. From there he follows the crowd into Yerushalem to Annas’ house. In part 3 we left Achim with his friend Libi. She was delivering a platter of food to the high priest, Caiaphas.

He nodded. He continued to keep pace with her, but when she came to a doorway, he paused. She walked through. Light spilled out of the rectangular opening along with raised voices. Achim stole a glance around the edge of the wooden frame. What he saw took his breath away.

Torches lined the walls along with beautiful tapestries, the likes of which he had only seen in bazaars. Low tables spread around the room held men reclining at them. The men all wore tunics of fine weave. They were arguing among themselves. In the middle stood Yeshua!

“He is guilty of death!” one man yelled.

“What proof do you have?” another replied.

“You want proof? Here,” a man at the far side stood up.

He motioned to something in the shadows and two men came forward. Their clothes looked more like what Achim had seen in the courtyard—poor and course. They stood in stark contrast to the opulence of the room. Several men placed a cloth in front of their noses as if to protect them from the odor.

“Men of the Sanhedrin,” the first spoke, his eyes constantly moving, shifting from one side to another, “That man,” he pointed to Yeshua, “said he would destroy the temple!”

A gasp made its way around the room. Libi exited and pulled Achim back from the doorway.

“What do you think you are doing? You’ll get us both in trouble!”

Achim hung his head. He didn’t want to cause problems for Libi. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see.”

Her eyes softened. “You weren’t caught, so we’re okay. What did you need to tell me?”

Achim lifted his head. He remembered what had drawn him to follow Libi.

“There is a man over there. His name is Shimon. He is a friend of Yeshua. Before I came to Yerushalem, I saw Yeshua in the countryside with his followers. That man was with them.”

Libi’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise.”

Libi nodded. Achim could almost see her deciding what to do as the firelight reflected from her brown eyes.

“I’ve got to report back to Abigail. I’ll see you after a while.”

Achim watched her go. Part of him wanted to see what the Sanhedrin did to Yeshua, while the other part knew it wasn’t wise. A chill wind blew across the courtyard. Achim rubbed his hands along his arms and moved toward the fire. Without realizing it, he found himself beside Shimon. The man seemed anxious and nervous. He wrung his hands together over the fire. The other men chatted quietly. It seemed the energy from before had been released.

Achim had almost fallen asleep on his feet, when he heard Libi’s voice.

“You were with Yeshua.”

Shimon jumped as if someone had poked him with a spike. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The burly man moved away toward a side entrance. Achim closed his mouth. He hadn’t realized he had opened it. What had Libi done? Did she want to get Shimon in trouble as well? Achim followed Libi away from the fire.

“What was that all about?” he whispered harshly, his anger showing through.

“You said he was one of Yeshua’s friends. I don’t want any trouble. Abigail said the Sanhedrin is condemning the teacher. If he has followers here, they’ll revolt, and we’ll have a fight on our hands. Besides, I’ve heard about Shimon. He’s hot-headed.”

Achim shook his head. He didn’t know what was happening any more. He turned away from his friend and looked around. Another figure hid in the shadows. He was a small man, not much older than Achim. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. As Achim watched, the man wiped at his cheek. Was the man crying? Achim moved closer to see better. What he found surprised him.

The young man smiled at Achim.

“Hello,” he said in a gentle voice. “What brings someone as young as you to Caiaphas’ house?”

Achim’s first instinct was to lie, but something in the man’s eyes said he understood.

“I followed the men.”

The man nodded. “I did, too.”

The two stood quietly leaning against the wall. A stray memory seemed to play at the edges of Achim’s mind. He couldn’t place it.

A commotion caught their attention. At one of the fire pits men were gesturing wildly. A voice rose over the courtyard. Achim had heard swearing in his young life, but the man yelling topped them all. Achim recognized Shimon’s voice.

“I tell you, I don’t know the man!”

To Achim’s side, Yeshua walked through the door, or rather was pushed. His hands were tied behind his back. Whether it was the eery lighting of the courtyard or something else, Achim wasn’t sure, but it appeared that Yeshua’s face was black and blue. The teacher paused and seemed to look directly at Shimon. Silence hung in the air. A rooster crowed. The man beside Achim hid his face. As if on some unspoken command, noise returned to the courtyard. Shimon rushed out the door his sobs reaching Achim’s ears.

Achim didn’t know where to look—at Shimon or Yeshua. The decision was taken from him, as Yeshua moved toward the main gate. The Sanhedrin exited and followed behind him. Some looked pleased while others seemed to hang their heads in shame. Achim wondered what it was all about. Then he saw the high priest. Caiaphas’ tunic was rent in two—a sign of mourning or extreme anger!

As the last one left the courtyard, the man beside Achim reached out and touched the boy’s shoulder.

“Come, we should go. By the way, my name is Yochanan.”

At the mention of his name, Achim took a closer look. The man was older than what Achim remembered, but it was still the same young man who had leaned in on Yeshua’s side to ask the teacher to answer Shimon’s question of who was the greatest.

Achim nodded and followed Yochanan out the door. While they walked, Achim introduced himself. He was surprised to find that they were walking along the street with the temple looming over them. Their steps led them to the Antonia Fortress. That did not bode well for Yeshua.

Stay tuned for part 5.

A Unique Look at Holy Week part 3

We left Achim remembering a time with Yeshua years earlier. Now reality closes back in.

The moment passed as the men led Yeshua on. Achim’s mind whirled, but he followed at a discrete distance. This time Achim noticed his surroundings, making sure he knew where he was. The men led him across the city without fear or much variation in their route. A sinking feeling settled in Achim’s stomach. It was similar to when Momma became too ill to move about. He pushed the thought of Momma aside and focused on Yeshua. Soon, the temple loomed above them. The men paused in the street as if waiting for a door to open and then filed through.

Achim glanced around. He recognized the large gates of the high priest’s house. He waited for everyone to enter and then walked past the main entrance and around to the side of the house where a door admitted servants. His friend Libi worked for the high priest. Maybe she would let him come in where it would be warmer.

He tapped lightly on the wood, wondering if anyone would be wandering the back hallways. To his surprise, the door opened almost immediately.

“Achim?” Libi’s soft lilting voice called his name in surprise. “What are you doing here?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Come on in. There’s enough visitors in the main courtyard you won’t be noticed there.”

Achim noticed her dark curly hair trying to escape the headdress. He smiled. Libi usually looked prim and proper—all except her hair. It seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Achim, this isn’t a time to smile,” she said, her hands on her hips. “Do you realize the Sanhedrin has come and is holding a nighttime meeting? They meet up in the Royal Stoa in the temple, not at Caiaphas’ house! Something is not right.”

The amusement from Libi’s unkempt hair faded. Achim looked down. “I know. I followed them from the garden to a place by Herod’s palace and then to here. They have Yeshua.”

Libi’s hand went to her mouth as if to stifle the gasp that came out. “No! That can’t be! I’ve heard my mistress and master talking about Yeshua, but I didn’t think it would come to this.”

Achim nodded and pushed a stray hair out of his face. “They bound him and led him away from the garden. His friends all fled.”

Libi turned and led Achim through the hall to the front coutyard. A large gate dominated the one wall, while braziers burned in various spots spread out over the tiled floor. The moonlight that had lit the streets seemed to have hid itself behind some clouds. The only light in the courtyard came from the small fires. People’s faces held an eery glow, and shadows dominated the area.

“I have to get back to serving,” Libi said.

Achim nodded. He walked over to a side wall and stood. He noticed the people in the room were all men. Some wore rough clothes as if they lived in the lower city. Others sported fancy tunics. Here, men who would not have associated with each other stood side by side quietly conversing. Often their eyes darted across the courtyard to the wall furthest from Achim. From this distance the boy couldn’t see what the other wall held. Once he was certain no one saw him or cared that he was there, he began to slowly make his way around the wall to the front and then to the other side.

His movements did not portray any of the worry or nervousness he felt. His years on the streets of Yerushalem had taught him if he looked guilty men would assume he was guilty. So, he walked purposefully as if he belonged in the courtyard. If someone paid more attention to him than he thought good or necessary, he’d sidle up to another man and act as his son. He stayed in the group until the attention had long passed away. Then he would continue his journey.

It was while in one such group that a voice caught his attention.

“Ah, now ya got it all wrong! That’s not how you go about it.”

Achim looked up to see a man waving muscular arms as he explained how to get the best price at market. Achim felt his eyes widen. This was the man who had asked Yeshua about being greatest in the kingdom! What had Yeshua called him? Achim thought and thought. The memory came back along with the man’s name, just as Libi passed him. Achim followed her.

“Pst, Libi,” he said as he moved toward her. “Libi, wait up.”

She turned but didn’t really slow any. Achim hurried to catch up. The tray in her hands held dried fruits and a basket of bread.

“I have to take this to Caiaphas, Achim. You can’t come in.”

He nodded. He continued to keep pace with her, but when she came to a doorway, he paused. She walked through. Light spilled out of the rectangular opening along with raised voices. Achim stole a glance around the edge of the wooden frame. What he saw took his breath away.

Learn more about Achim’s story in part 4.

A Unique Look at Holy Week Part 2

The story of Achim continues.

Unlike Achim, the crowd moved without fear. Their feet pounding first on the dirt-packed path, then on the cobblestone streets. Their movements echoed from the stone walls as they entered the city. The torchlight lent an eery, orange glow to people ahead of Achim and to the buildings they passed. No one moved in the homes. No one stirred to look outside to see who or what was making the racket in the streets.

Achim almost bumped into the last person in the group when they stopped suddenly. The boy looked around the streets to identify what would be the hold up. The narrow streets gave him no clue, until the people filtered away one by one. Achim then could clearly see the palace of the Asmonaeans with its wide stairs and two tall towers rising to the night sky. The moon shone off its white-washed walls. The final person entered a doorway and the gate closed behind him. Achim watched from the shadows.

“What are they doing?” he wondered out loud. “What are they doing with the teacher?”

The rabbi, that was the key to the whole thing. Achim heard again the kind voice, the voice that brought back memories. The buildings around him faded as he remembered. Those were happy days; the family was whole. He was able to protect Momma and Margalit. The three of them had gone out to see Yeshua. The day had dawned bright and hopeful. Rumors abounded that Yeshua could cure any illness. Maybe Momma would be healed. Although, she never spoke of the pain, Achim often saw it in her eyes as it crushed her spirit.

Once out in the countryside, the crowds swelled. There would be no way to get Momma close to Yeshua. Too many people blocked their way, and Momma would have none of pushing and shoving. Besides it hurt too much for her to meander through the people like that.

“You go ahead, Achim,” Momma said. “You see him. Maybe you will be able to get him to see me later.”

Achim looked deep into Momma’s dark eyes. The pain that always lay hidden showed, but he also saw pride in her son. He stood straighter. He would not fail her. He would bring Yeshua to Momma.

As he squeezed between people, he kept his eyes on the ground and pictured Momma’s eyes. He could make his way to the front for her. He ignored the curses and hands that pushed at him as he moved toward his goal. Finally, there was no one else to squeeze through. He looked up. Twelve men sat around a very ordinary looking man.

“Rabbi, who’s the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?” a man, with arms twice the size of any Achim had ever seen, asked.

“Yes, Yeshua,” a younger man agreed, leaning closer to the teacher, “please tell us.”

The other men nodded their heads in agreement. Yeshua looked around at the expectant faces. Achim wondered how he would get the teacher’s attention. Then the unthinkable happened. Yeshua stood and looked around. His brown eyes landed on Achim! This wasn’t like when adults see through a child. No, the rabbi saw him and began walking toward him! Achim wanted to back away, but the crowd stood blocking his escape. Yeshua stopped in front of Achim, and then bent down to his eye level. Achim stared into those dark eyes. They reminded him of Momma’s. Pain hid in the corners, while love marched straight out of them. Fear fled away from those brown eyes. The man reached out and took Achim’s hand in his own large one. Achim felt safe. Everyone else around them faded from his senses. He was alone with this man in a field where spring flowers lent their wondrous scent and clouds flitted across the sky. He wished the moment would last forever. Then he remembered Momma!

“Rabbi,” he began to speak, his voice soft and timid.

“Hush, my son,” the voice, just as his touch and eyes, brought calm, but it held that hint of pain, as if he knew more than anyone else what pain was. “I know. Come with me.”

Achim wondered what was happening but had complete trust in Yeshua. The men sitting on the ground, though, seemed to question what their rabbi was doing. They didn’t voice their concerns, but Achim saw it in their eyes. Distrustful eyes, wary eyes, eyes that were accustomed to protecting their teacher. Achim recognized those last. His eyes often looked like that when he stared at them in the cracked mirror in Momma’s room.

Yeshua came to a stop. He stood with his hands on Achim’s shoulders. Achim stared into twelve faces. He wondered what he was doing, but Yeshua’s hands on his small frame grounded him in peace.

“My friends,” the rabbi spoke from above Achim’s head, “truly, if you do not change your heart to become like the heart of a child, you will not be able to come into the Kingdom of Heaven. Anyone who humbles himself, just like this little child,” Achim felt the hands on his shoulders squeeze gently, “is greatest in the Kingdom.”

Achim saw the looks of disbelief on the men’s faces. They couldn’t understand how a child, a kid, could be the greatest in God’s kingdom. Achim himself didn’t understand it.

“Anyone who welcomes a child such as this one in my name, welcomes me. However,” here the teacher paused.

Achim wondered what was happening above him for the men in front of him squirmed.

The rabbi continued but his voice held pain and almost anger blended together. “However, whoever puts a stumbling block in front of one of these little ones who believes in me,” he paused and Achim could hear a bird sing in a far off tree. He felt the rabbi’s hands tremble on his shoulders. “It would be better for that man if someone put a grind stone from a mill around his neck and throw him into the sea!”

A collective gasp went up from the crowd and the men. Achim felt the fear course through him. Better to drown in the sea than cause a child to stumble? Achim could not understand it. The rabbi turned Achim around and again knelt down to his level.

“I understand your need, my son,” he whispered. “Now is not the time. Later you will have what you need.”

Achim nodded though he did not understand. Yeshua lifted his hands from the boy’s shoulders and stood, he turned to the crowd and continued talking.

The memory faded at a screech from across the street. Achim looked up and saw the gate opening and a man with a torch leading the way. Others followed him, including Yeshua! Those brown eyes from so long ago turned and looked directly at Achim! The boy stood still, unable to move. The pain that hid at the corners of Yeshua’s eyes now came front and center, but the love that had been there before screamed louder than ever.

The moment passed as the men led Yeshua on. Achim’s mind whirled, but he followed at a discrete distance.

Stay tuned for more from Achim’s story of Holy Week.

A Unique Look at Holy Week part 1

This past weekend I had the privilege of going to Writers’ Weekend at the Beach in Ocean Park, Washington. I loved being able to network with the small group of writers, learn from my first critique sessions, and have time to write. One of the activities was a first hundred word contest. I started a story that I decided to share with you all. It will be a continued story spanning throughout this week and finishing on Resurrection Sunday! I hope it will give you a fresh look at Holy Week and maybe something to share with your family as you celebrate.

The young urchin inhaled the scent of myrtle wood. It reminded him of Momma. The thought of her always brought pain. He pushed the memories down and listened to the night sounds of frogs and locusts. Curling up to go to sleep under the boughs of the tree, an odd noise caught his attention. He peered out from the darkness. A group of men carrying torches marched by his hiding place. After they passed, he crawled out and followed them.

“What could they be after?” he wondered.

As the mob stopped, he scurried up a tree to see and not to be seen. The sight surprised him. The men had come to a halt in a clearing in the garden. Olive and myrtle trees gave way to grass. On the grass thirteen men stood. Several seemed to have just awakened from a nap, confusion registered on their faces, while the firelight flickered off their brown eyes. Several women huddled in a group off to the side. The boy couldn’t imagine what the mob wanted with so few men and women.

Movement caught his eye. A man dressed in a tunic with an overcoat stepped out of the crowd and walked forward. His steps showed purpose and familiarity with the area and the group waiting.

“Rabbi,” the man said, greeting one who stood in the center waiting almost as if he had expected his little party to be interrupted.

“Friend, do what you came to do,” the teacher replied.

His voice carried over the sound of the frogs in the distance, over the shuffling of the feet of the crowd, and through the glade. The young lad in the tree froze. He had heard that voice before once long ago. He had no opportunity to think of the memory for a sudden movement tore his attention back to the clearing. The crowd moved forward as one. The lead men seized the man with the gentle voice, turned him around, and held his hands behind his back. In the same instant, a short, burly man with dark curly hair bound forward drawing a dagger and swung at the other man’s head. The boy couldn’t see what happened, but the man with the kind voice turned around, reached out and touched the other’s ear. A collective gasp went up from those around the teacher.

“Shimon,” the voice that evoked memories in the urchin said for all to hear, “put your dagger away. Even now, I could ask Father and he would send messengers to rescue me.” The teacher turned to the crowd. “Every day, I was among you teaching, and you did nothing. But now you come at night with swords and sticks.”

The mob reacted instantly with more surrounding the teacher and grabbing him. The women and the teacher’s friends scattered into the garden. The boy sat in his tree unmoving. Fear coursed through his veins. If the crowd would take this respected teacher, what would they do with a homeless street kid? He watched from his perch as the men pushed the teacher in front of them out through the trees of the garden. Once the lights moved passed him and he could only hear the march of feet but not see them, he slid out of the tree and followed at a safe distance.

Questions swirled in his head much like flies buzzing around the meat market. Who would want to take the teacher? Why would they march him off? Where were they taking him? What about his friends? Had they all deserted him? As he contemplated these questions without answers, he moved silently, accustomed to sneaking around people and not being heard or seen.

“Achim,” he whispered to himself, “you’ve been in many scrapes in the past, but this one beats all.”

Look for the continuation of the story to come later this week. I’ll leave a link to it once it’s posted.