The Didymus Contingency

SIXTEEN
Rise
30A.D.

Tom was miffed. Jesus knew Lazarus was sick, maybe even dying. While Tom in no way believed Jesus could heal Lazarus, he knew that they were friends and if Lazarus died, Jesus should be there. They all should be there. But they weren’t. Three days had passed before they set out that morning, headed for Bethany. Tom thought that Jesus might have waited the three days with the hopes that Lazarus would be feeling better by the time they arrived, thus negating the need for an actual miraculous healing.

The hike toward Bethany had been quiet and tense. Tom was glad it was almost over. As the hillside home of Lazarus came into view, Tom’s heart sank. A crowd of people, maybe a hundred, was gathered around the home. And there was a noise…a wailing. Is everyone crying?

Jesus stopped in his tracks and looked at the crowd. The disciples followed suit. Tom knew what this meant. He knew Lazarus was dead. And they hadn’t been here.

As the fourteen moved forward again and approached the home, Martha burst from the crowd and stormed toward Jesus, consumed by rage. “Where were you?”

Martha stopped in front of Jesus and punched his chest. “ Where were you?”

She punched Jesus’s chest and arms over and over, lessening the blow each time. “If you had been here earlier, Lazarus would not have died!”

Tom shook his head at hearing Martha say the words, confirming Lazarus’s passing. This was madness.

After putting his arms around Martha, Jesus pulled her close. She sobbed into Jesus’s chest as he ran his fingers through Martha’s hair. He held her tight until her muscles relaxed. Jesus loosened his grip on Martha and she wiped her eyes dry.

“But…I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask,” Martha said with the voice of a desperate beggar.

Jesus wiped a stray tear from Martha’s cheek and said, “Your brother will rise again.”

“Yes, yes, I know, in the resurrection. On the last day,” Martha said, defeated.

“Martha…I am the resurrection. I am the life. Whoever believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives, and believes in me will never die… Do you believe this, Martha?”

Martha’s eyes filled with liquid as she stared Jesus in the eyes. “Yes,” she said with a firm voice, “I believe you are the Christ, the very Son of God who has come into this world.”

Martha heard her own words and looked suddenly worried. “Sorry I hit you.”

Jesus smiled at Martha and asked, “Now, where is your sister? Where is Mary?”

“Inside. I’ll get her.” Martha headed for the house.

Appearing weakened by the strong emotions of Martha, Jesus sat at the base of a fig tree, while the disciples dispersed among the mass of mourners. Tom and David stood twenty feet from Jesus, watching the scene as though through a time portal. Tom thought David looked nervous. Did he know what was going to happen? Was he expecting trouble?

Tom attempted to hypothesize about what David might be thinking, but found his own thoughts consumed by concern for Mary. He hadn’t seen her yet, and scanned the faces of the people who had gathered at the home.

Like a lighthouse beckoning to a ship in the night, Mary emerged from within the sea of people and headed toward Jesus. Tom felt an incredible urge to run to her, to reach out and comfort her. But she was not coming to him. Why wasn’t she coming to him? Perhaps her feelings for him were temporary? Had he misread her interest? Tom swallowed hard at the thought and continued watching, his feet stuck to the ground like two branches frozen in ice.

He watched as Mary stood above Jesus at the fig tree. Jesus looked up from the ground and met Mary’s eyes. It was as if an entire conversation was held using only their eyes. They stared at each other in painful silence, crying. A teardrop fell from Mary’s face and struck her shaking hand as it fell to the earth. Mary took a deep breath.

“Where were you? You could have saved him,” Mary said with a sniffle.

Jesus reached a hand out to Mary and she fell into his arms. Jesus wept.

Tom felt a nagging on his tear ducts and gave in, allowing the tears to flow freely down his face. He felt David’s gaze and knew he must be realizing how much Mary really meant to him. Tom had never once, not even when he talked about Megan, cried in front of David.

Jesus held Mary by the shoulders and pushed her back so he could see her face. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

Mary wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s not far. We’ll show you.”

Mary and Jesus stood to their feet. “Let me gather the disciples,” Jesus said. “Then we will go see about your brother.”

Jesus walked into the crowd, leaving Mary alone. As she stood by herself, her face became twisted with agony. She jumped when Tom placed his hand on her shoulder. “Mary,” Tom said with a compassionate voice. “I’m here.”

Mary spun around and wrapped her arms around Tom as tight as she could. Tom squeezed her and pressed his face against hers, mixing their tears. Tom felt as though his heart were being stung by an angry swarm of bees. Lazarus was dead, but Mary was alive and Tom could feel her love for him as they shared the pain of loss that Tom knew all too well.

Watching from the sidelines had become a hobby for David. He wasn’t always invited or allowed to take part in everything Jesus and the disciples did, but he was just as happy to watch. And he had never been happier to do so than now. Here they were, two thousand years in the past, mourning the death of a friend whose sister was falling in love with Tom. David smiled. Tom didn’t believe in Jesus, but he sure had a habit of falling in love with women who did.

Tom looked up as Jesus emerged from the crowd with Martha and the eleven other disciples. “We’re ready,” Jesus said.

Mary smiled at Tom through wet eyes. “Go ahead,” Tom said. “I’ll catch up with David.”

Mary nodded with a faint smile and then ran to Jesus. David rejoined Tom and said, “She’s something special, isn’t she?”

Tom looked at David, surprisingly serious. “Tell me, David. If Jesus loved Lazarus so much, why didn’t he come sooner? Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that he did heal the blind guy, and all the other people who claim to be healed. Why didn’t he come here and heal Lazarus? He’s caused Mary so much pain by not coming… It seems to me that he’s been letting people suffer and die in his name from the very beginning.”

“Tom…” It was all David could get out.

“What?” Tom asked. “If God created the universe, he can save a human life. If Jesus is God, he could have saved Lazarus. So he chose not to. If Jesus is God, he could have saved Megan. If Jesus is God…God is a bastard.”

Tom couldn’t believe David’s reaction. David smiled!

“What are you smiling at? I’m being serious,” Tom said.

“I can’t say why some people die when and how they do. Only God can ever really know that. But some lives can be saved,” David said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I think we should follow Jesus.”

“Why?”

“Because after eighteen years, you ought to trust me.”

David was right. While Tom had lost all trust in Jesus’s ability to make the smart choices, David had never failed him. They followed after Jesus and the disciples along with the rest of the crowd.

As Tom wove his way past the scads of people, he saw a familiar face. Looking at him was the Pharisee named Tarsus, dressed in the common man’s clothing, walking among with the crowd. Tarsus caught Tom’s eye and nodded to him as men who have a common goal sometimes do. Tom nodded back.

Jesus, Mary and Martha stopped in front of Lazarus’s tomb, which was simply a cave dug into the grassy hillside. A large, rounded slab of solid stone covered the entrance with an airtight seal. Tom, David and the disciples stopped behind Jesus, the large crowd of mourners behind them.

Jesus walked to the stone and rested his hand on it. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Jesus took a deep breath, looked up at the sky and then turned to David and Tom with a look of determination. “Take away the stone.”

Tom looked at David as if to say: Is he serious?! David grinned and headed for the boulder. Tom followed, feeling very silly.

“Wait,” Martha protested. “By this time he’ll… he’s been in there four days… the smell… we can’t.”

Jesus looked at Martha with kind eyes. “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”

Martha looked at the ground, unsure, but then nodded and backed away, though her look of concern did not diminish. Jesus glanced at David and Tom, signaling them to push. Tom and David braced themselves against the boulder and heaved. It didn’t budge.

Peter, who was standing in front of the crowd with the other disciples, nudged Matthew and said, “Let’s help.”

Matthew nodded in agreement and grabbed Judas, who was standing next to him. “You too.” Before Judas could object, Matthew had dragged him all the way to the boulder. Tom and David were relieved that help had arrived.

“On three,” Tom said.

“What’s on three?” Judas asked. Peter and Matthew looked confused as well.

“I’m going to count to three. When I say three, we all push,” Tom explained.

“Ohh, why didn’t you just say so?” Matthew said.

“One…”

The five men braced themselves against the stone.

“Two…”

Tom dug his feet into the ground.

“Three!”

All five men pushed with all their strength and the boulder rolled free. A sound like venting gas escaped from the cave as its seal was broken. The crowd covered their noses and backed away. The stone rolled free and became unbalanced. It wobbled and fell onto its side, just missing Judas and exploding a cloud of dirt into the air, which mixed with the smell of death. Tom wondered if this would be the moment of Jesus’s undoing that wouldn’t be recorded in the Bible.

Walking past Tom, Jesus slowly stepped toward the cave. He grabbed the sides of the cave entrance and leaned in, bowing his head at the same time. “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I know that you always hear me, but I say this for the benefit…”

Jesus turned and looked Tom right in the eyes, “…of the people standing here, that they might believe you sent me.”

Jesus turned his head back toward the gaping hole in the earth. After a moment, Jesus turned his back on the cave and walked a few feet away, facing the crowd. Jesus closed his eyes. “Lazarus!” he yelled. “Come out!”

This is insane, Tom thought. It went against all reasonable logic, even for the people of this time period. Even still, Tom’s eyes were locked on the cave entrance, just as everyone else’s were.

A woman in the crowd screamed in terror and ran away. Something inside the cave was moving in the darkness, skulking and shuffling toward the light of day. With each movement, the figure produced a scratching sound as if a limb or dead body were being dragged over stone. It was like a bad horror movie. What happened next was both fully expected and completely unbelievable. Everyone present, minus Jesus, took a quick step back as a hand wrapped in white burial cloth clasped onto the outside rim of the cave entrance.

All at once, the whole crowd gasped. Several people turned and ran, screaming and horrified. Some fell to their knees, legs too weak to support their weight. Others stood silently, watching, waiting for the horror to continue. Jesus turned toward the cave as a man, wrapped in cloth from head to toe, staggered into the afternoon sun.

“Take off his grave clothes and let him go,” Jesus said to no one in particular.

Martha and Mary dashed to their brother and began tearing at the cloth, desperate to see Lazarus living again. Within a minute, they had exposed his head, torso, arms and legs. Lazarus was not only living, but looked to be in perfect health. His skin wasn’t pale and wrinkly, as one would think a dead man’s skin might look. He was full of life, vibrant with blood coursing through veins, pumped by a strong heart. Lazarus was alive!

Tom was bewildered. He staggered backwards and sat atop the flat stone, which had covered the cave entrance. He watched as Mary, Martha, Jesus and Lazarus were happily reunited. There had to be some explanation. This defied all of the rules of reality, of human existence…except one.

Gripped by a frigid suspicion, Tom suddenly saw through what was happening. There was one rule, one constant of humanity that applied to this situation: deception. He and everyone else here had been conned by perhaps the greatest sleight of hand in history. Tom knew now that David Copperfield had nothing on Jesus. He looked at Lazarus, alive and well and of all things laughing. He was in on it, that’s for sure. Tom looked at Martha, tears in her eyes, but she could have known. Tom looked at Mary. He had felt her heart break. Her emotions were real. Tom was sure of it.

Jesus had carefully orchestrated this event with his closest friend, Lazarus. They had conspired against everyone they knew and loved to further Jesus’s campaign and had gone so far as to cause Megan such incredible pain. Megan? Mary! Tom realized he was transplanting his feelings of past sorrow about Megan to the present situation. But it still applied. Jesus’s crusade had killed one woman he loved and had now injured another.

Mary served Jesus and Lazarus faithfully. Megan went to Africa for him. Mary trusted that Jesus would come and save her brother, and he betrayed that trust. Megan gave her life because she believed in him. And this is how he repays people who believe? Deceit! Lies! Manipulation! Tom couldn’t allow it to continue. Not anymore.

A set of squinty eyes caught Tom’s attention. Tarsus was there, looking at him. He had seen and heard the entire event. Tarsus motioned with his head for Tom to follow, then turned and pushed his way into the crowd.

Tom stood to his feet, resolute. As he took a step to follow Tarsus, David grabbed his arm, “Isn’t this amazing?”

Tom looked at David, his complexion full of anger. David looked in the direction Tom was headed and saw Tarsus disappear into the crowd. “Where are you going?” David asked.

“I have something to take care of,” Tom said, as he yanked his arm away from David and headed after Tarsus.

David had never felt such hatred from Tom. His eyes were cold and lifeless. Oh no… David’s mind raced. He remembered the face of the man Tom was following. David had seen him earlier and thought he looked familiar, but couldn’t place the face. But he remembered now-Tarsus, one of the Pharisees. Tom was going to see the Pharisees. Or had he seen them already? What was he planning to do? David’s heart began to race as he considered all the possibilities.

Careful not to be discovered, David followed after Tom. If Tom planned on betraying Jesus, it would be the first inaccuracy David had seen in the Bible thus far. Could something like this have been omitted? David had witnessed a miracle, a life being brought back to the world, but if the Bible were wrong, if the word of God was inaccurate, it would shake his faith beyond repair. Maybe the events after today would be recorded incorrectly? Maybe there were two betrayers among the disciples? Maybe Jesus wouldn’t rise from the dead? David knew the rest of the world was safe from the prospect of a world without Jesus Christ as God, but as for him personally, he wasn’t sure anymore. David knew that the choices Tom made in the next few hours could change everything he believed.

The busy streets of Jerusalem provided David with a series of excellent hiding spots as he chased after Tom and Tarsus, who were now headed for the upper city. David was happy to see that the upper city was busy as well. He moved from building to building, staying in the shadows and acting as inconspicuous as possible. Tom had no idea he was being followed.

David watched as Tom and Tarsus entered an extravagant building, which David recognized as one of the Pharisee meeting places. It was bright white and smooth with columns on either side of the thick, solid oak door. This was truly the Beverly Hills of ancient Israel. David scanned the front of the building and noticed a walkway around the second floor, which he thought must look down upon an open atrium. He knew this would be his only chance to find out what was going on behind that door.

After leaning out from his hiding place behind a well-groomed donkey, David searched the road for prying eyes and found none. The streets this far into the upper city were almost always quiet save for the occasional heated debate. But right now, the streets were empty, which suited David’s plans perfectly. He bolted across the road and hid behind a Roman-made statue of Julius Caesar, meant to remind even the rich who was in charge of their lives. Behind the statue, a tall wall decorated with an elaborate and colorful mosaic of Moses studying the law rose to about four feet below the second floor walkway. David grabbed hold of Caesar’s solid forearm, planted a foot on the figure’s backside and heaved himself up, praying the statue would hold his weight. Should he tip it over and be caught, it would surely cost him his life. David leaned over with both hands and grabbed the top of the wall, his feet firmly planted on the statue’s buttocks.

Just then, the front door of the building swung open and two voices spilled out into the street. Two servants exited and headed toward the lower city, both grumbling about their masters. One of the servants laughed and looked back toward the building. He stopped and grabbed the other man’s arm. David had been spotted!

David stared at the men as he hung between the statue and the wall. They looked at him, studied his face, his clothes. David didn’t know what to do. His mind raced and no feasible solution came to mind. He did the only thing he could think to do. To David’s surprise, the two servants returned his smile, nodded to him in approval and then they turned and left without a word. David sighed, thanking God that these men had as much contempt for their masters as he did.

With a burst of energy gained by the adrenaline that surged through his body as he was caught in the act, David pushed off the statue and pulled himself up onto the wall. From there it was a quick jump and heave over the walkway’s railing. David lay on his belly and slid across the floor to an open window from which he could hear voices. He poked his head around the corner and looked into the wide-open room. There were ten Pharisees sitting around Tom, who had the center stage. David recognized several of the Pharisees: Silas, Simeon, Gamaliel and Tarsus-all had confronted Jesus at one time or another over the past years. And the man Tom was standing in front of…that was Caiaphas, the high priest. David knew this was no ordinary meeting.

Tom felt as uncomfortable with these men as he did at LightTech black tie events where he was required to shmooze with investors. It was true that Tom made as much money in a year as most men in a lifetime, but he preferred to live like the average guy. These were the kind of men who loved their money and had no qualms over showing it. But they were a means to an end. Tom was sure they could help discredit Jesus. Tom remained silent as Tarsus finished up his tale of Lazarus being brought back from the dead.

“He did what?” Caiaphas asked.

“Raised him from the dead!” Tarsus replied insistently.

Caiaphas looked at Tom. “And you witnessed this as well?”

“Yes,” said Tom, though he did not believe Jesus had really brought Lazarus from the dead. But that’s what Jesus wanted people to believe, so that’s what he’d get.

“How?” Caiaphas asked.

“He had the stone removed from the grave by some of his disciples. He simply yelled the man’s name and commanded him to come out,” Tarsus explained.

Caiaphas leaned back and addressed Tom again. “And you, his…disciple… Why have you come to tell us this?”

“It is true that I am called a disciple of Jesus. But he gave me the title against my will. I do not believe what he teaches. I do not believe he is God or what he does is from God. Truly, I am not his disciple.”

Caiaphas was very pleased with Tom’s answer. “I see…and would you work to prove such things to be false? Would you work to undo what Jesus has done?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Tom replied.

“Can you confirm some items for us then?” Caiaphas asked, eager to get on with the questioning.

“Certainly,” Tom replied.

“Does Jesus claim to be one and the same as God the Father?”

“Yes.”

“Does he claim to heal the sick and lame with power bestowed upon him by the Father, even on the Sabbath?”

“Yes.”

“Does he speak openly against us, the teachers of the divine law of Moses?”

“Yes.”

“You see! It’s as I told you. Jesus does such things while claiming to be God the Father!” Tarsus said.

David heard every word. He turned away from the window full of rage. He knew if he didn’t leave now he would confront the men and perhaps even be killed for his insolence. David had heard enough. Tom was betraying Jesus. He was betraying David. He was making a lie out of the Bible. David knew now that there were two turncoats in the disciple’s ranks, and Tom was one of them. David climbed back down to the street and walked away, looking at the ground, full of confusion and questions.

The Pharisees grew more excited. “If we let him go on like this everyone will believe in him!” Silas shouted. “The Romans won’t stand for it!”

“I agree,” Simeon said. “They’ll destroy the temple and take our nation from us. We must demand that Jesus stop at once.”

Tom’s eyes bounced from one Pharisee to the next as they eagerly agreed. He stopped on the face of Caiaphas, who cracked a smile, as though he had just had the most wonderful thought. “Do you not realize what an opportunity this presents, for all of us? The death of one man can be the catalyst for something much greater. He will be silenced, permanently, and our nation will become a strong body again as a result,” Caiaphas said.

“With us at its head!” agreed Tarsus happily.

The room was all nods and smiles. “We must be careful in our actions. Only a conviction of crimes punishable by death will serve our cause. Killing him outright will enrage the masses,” Silas said.

Tarsus raised and clenched his fist dramatically, “Then we must turn the masses against him!”

Caiaphas turned to Tom again. “Can we count on your help?”

Tom felt sick to his stomach. This isn’t what he came here to accomplish. “You…you plan to kill him?”

“Of course,” Caiaphas replied.

Tom was terrified. He had handed his friend over to men who would kill him, and yet, if he refused to help now, they might kill him just for knowing. Tom struggled to find words and found only one. “No.”

Caiaphas blinked. “What did you say?”

“No…” Tom said nervously. “I came here to prove Jesus was a fake, a simple street magician, not to plot his death.”

Caiaphas shook his head quickly as though clearing his mind. “You have given testimony to his crimes yourself. You must understand that he-”

“Hasn’t done anything so bad as to deserve a death sentence,” Tom interrupted.

The faces of the Pharisees surrounding Tom grew grim, but Tom forged on, strengthened by the weight of his own guilt. “He’s broken some of your stupid moral laws. He’s said some things that go against what you’ve been taught, but you’re talking about a man who has been my friend regardless of our differences. I will not help you kill him.”

“Blasphemer!” Caiaphas screamed as he stood to his feet, holding a whip in his hand.

Tom eyed the whip. Where the hell did that come from? Does he keep one handy for moments just like this? Before Tom could react physically, he was cracked across the face with the tip of the whip. It tore open his cheek.

Tom held his face in pain and looked back toward the thick closed door. Tarsus stood in his way.

Every Pharisee in the room was on their feet, waiting for the other to make a move. Tom decided it was in his best interest if he acted first. Tom screamed and charged Tarsus. The air burst from Tarsus’s lungs as Tom heaved his shoulder into the man’s stomach and picked him up. Tom continued forward with a stunned Tarsus in his arms and slammed into the front door, breaking it down. The two men careened into the street, Tarsus absorbing most of the impact.

Tom got to his feet quickly and jumped over the immobilized Tarsus, who was arching his back in pain. Caiaphas whipped Tom across the back, opening a bloody gash. Tom fell to his knees as the remaining nine Pharisees encircled him.

This kind of situation wasn’t completely foreign to Tom. He’d been in his fair share of brawls over the years, but never were the odds this grim. Ten on one. Tom knew his only recourse was to run, but he was surrounded. He took in each of his adversaries. Several were old for the times, perhaps close to fifty and Tom imagined that few of them had any experience fighting. Most people in Jerusalem were too afraid of the Pharisees to fight back. But Tom wasn’t most people.

Feigning his injuries as more severe than they actually were, Tom began to beg, “Please, no more. I don’t want to die. I’ll help you! I’ll do whatever you want.”

This seemed to give pause to the Pharisees and their ever-tightening circle of bodies stopped. Tom didn’t wait another second. While still on the ground, Tom kicked back quickly and caught Silas in the knee. Even before Silas fell to the ground, Tom was up and charging Gamaliel. Tom rammed Gamaliel to the ground and before he could turn around, was stuck by a flurry of blows coming from every direction. But they were inexperienced and caused little damage. Tom smiled. This was like fighting a bunch of junior high girls. And while Tom was surrounded, Caiaphas wouldn’t be able to get in a shot with that awful whip.

Tom caught a fist and parried with a blow of his own. He couldn’t see who he was striking, or what happened to them after. All he knew was that after only six swings of his own, the space around him was clear of bodies. He could have sworn he heard one of them yell, “Stay away from him! He’s possessed!”

Tom turned toward Caiaphas, who had already raised his whip into the air. A moment of indecision on Tom’s part-to run or charge-was all it took for Caiaphas to bring down the whip and cut open Tom’s arm. Before Tom could scream, he was hit from behind with a plank that had broken off the shattered door.

Tom fell forward, but kept on moving. He crawled as quickly as he could away from the group of men and felt one last sting of the whip across his thigh as he got to his feet and started running.

The voices of his pursuers faded after ten solid minutes of running. Tom was bleeding and beaten, but was still in better shape than the Pharisees, who spent most days in lazy debate. Tom slowed as his energy and blood drained from his body.

He had made a mistake. Those men couldn’t help him and right now only one man could. Tom had to find David before it was too late. Tom would make up for betraying his friends. Bible or no bible, history was wrong. Tom was going to save Jesus. Just as soon as David saved Tom.