Night of Choices.

I wrote this for my Life of Christ class and I really became invested in this story.

The Night of Choices

                It was dark as I walked the streets of Jerusalem. In the distance I saw the last of the altar fires burning in the temple. The potent odor of the burnt Passover lambs filled the air. My anticipation grew more and more, but the men around me marched silently with grim expressions. Walking beside me was a lonely figure. His long hair and beard betrayed his eyes. The eyes of a man who knew how to get what he wanted. I did not trust this man but my master did. His name was Judas Iscariot and he had agreed to betray Jesus of Nazareth. “Jesus of Nazareth”, I thought with disgust. “Can anything good come from Nazareth? That man has caused more problems for the Jews than the Romans!” I quickened my pace for the time had come to finish this quandary once and for all.

                Judas halted at the foothills of the Mount of Olives. He said, “Whomever I kiss, He is the one; seize him!” I nodded my head, eager to pursue and finish this deed. I had no idea that this walk up the mountain would change my life forever.  The air grew colder the higher we walked. Far away from the cramped city, I felt as though I could sleep here and be at peace. This garden was truly a paradise for the weary traveler. Unfortunately, I could not rest here; we had to press on and find this Jesus.

                Judas stopped the crowd and for a brief moment I heard a voice carry over the darkness. “Get up and let us be going; behold, the one who betrays Me is at hand!” My stomach lurched at that moment. I saw Judas’ face go white but he pressed forward. As we stepped through the last of the foliage, we saw the small group of about twelve men standing there, just waiting for us. One of them stepped forward, there was nothing special about his appearance, but he stood with such authority that my knees could not help but tremble ever so slightly.

It was Jesus. He asked, “Who is it you want?” We replied with one voice, “Jesus of Nazareth.” He replied, in a voice that could stop men in their footsteps, “I AM he.” Judas fell backwards into me because of the power of this voice. I fell backwards into Hosea. All of the men had fallen down and were hastening to get back up. We came to our feet, slightly embarrassed, and Jesus said, “Who is it you want?” Slightly annoyed, we said, “Jesus of Nazareth.” He replied calmly, “I told you that I am he, if you are looking for me then let these men go.”

As I prepared to arrest Jesus, Judas stepped forward and said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him. I heard Jesus say very quietly, “Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss? Do what you came for.” At this point, I knew I had to act. So I stepped forward to arrest this so-called prophet.

The glint of steel on the moonlight was obvious. One of the larger men in the group came rushing at me with a fire in his eyes that I knew did not bode well for me. I could not draw my sword fast enough so I dove to the side. All of a sudden a fierce pain came upon my ear. I felt the warm blood trickle down the side of my face. I clutched at the bloodstained remains of my ear and wept from the pain. But then, I heard Jesus say, “No more of this! Put your sword back in its place! For all who draw the sword will die by the sword.” Jesus continued speaking but at that point I was rapidly losing focus.

I felt a hand on my ear and I saw the man I had come to arrest, this Jesus, putting my ear back in place. I felt the ear attach itself back together and the pain quickly dissipated as though it had never existed. Jesus looked at me with a love that made me ashamed of what I had attempted to do. He straightened himself up and rebuked the crowd I led for arresting him in the dark when he had been in the temple every day this week. The mob moved forward and his followers deserted him very quickly. Still kneeling, I saw two guards grab a young man but he broke free and ran home, even though he was naked. Then the guards escorted Jesus to the temple.

While these events were transpiring, I just knelt on the ground and I wept. I wept as I realized the enormity of what I had just committed. This man, the one I wanted to arrest merely hours before, did not call angels or fire from heaven. He did not curse me or spit on me. No, he healed my ear and then he went as a lamb to the slaughter. Who is this Jesus of Nazareth?