At that moment Philip and Nathanael arrived, happily pulling behind them, on one rope, the mother with her saddleless foal. “It turned out just as you said, Rabbi,” exclaimed Philip. “Mount now, and let’s go.”
Jesus turned to look at the house. The women stood and watched with crossed hands, sad but mute. Old Salome and the two sisters, with Magdalene in front…
“Is there a whip in the house, Martha?” Jesus asked.
“No, Rabbi,” Martha replied. “There is only our brother’s ox-goad.”
“Give it to me.”
The disciples had laid their clothes upon the docile animal to make a soft seat for the teacher, and on top of these Magdalene threw a red blanket of her own weaving, decorated along the edges with small black cypresses.
“Are you all ready?” Jesus asked. “Is everyone in good heart?”
“Yes,” answered Peter, who went in front. Holding the animal’s rein, he led the way.
The Bethanites heard the group pass and opened their doors.
“Where are you off to, lads? Why is the prophet riding today?”
The disciples leaned over and confided the secret to them. “He’s off today to sit on his throne.”
“What throne, fellow?
“Shh, it’s a secret. The man you see before you is the king of Israel.”
“Really! Let’s go with him,” shouted the young women, and more and more people swarmed around.
The children cut palm branches and went in front, happily chanting, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” The men took off their coats and spread them along the road for him to pass over. How they ran! What a spring this was! How tall the flowers had grown this year; how the birds sang and flew behind the procession, toward Jerusalem!
Jacob leaned over to his brother. “Our mother spoke to him yesterday. She said he should seat us to his left and right now that he’s going to mount the throne of glory. But he didn’t answer her. Maybe he got angry. She said his face seemed to darken.”
“Of course he got angry,” John replied. “She shouldn’t have done it.”
“What then? Should he leave us as we are and-who knows?-give precedence to Judas Iscariot? Did you notice how all these days the two of them have been talking secretly together? They seem inseparable. Be careful, John. Go and speak to him your self so we don’t suffer any loss. The hour has come for the division of the honors.”
But John shook his head. “My brother,” he said, “look how afflicted he is. It’s as though he were going to his death.”
I would like to know what is destined to happen now, thought Matthew as he marched by himself behind the others. The prophets don’t explain it very well. Some say the throne, others death. Which one of the two prophecies will he untangle? No one can interpret a prophecy except after the event. It’s only then that we understand what the prophet meant. So, let’s be patient and wait and see what happens-just to be sure. We’ll write it all down tonight when we return.
By this time the good news had taken wing and reached the near-by villages and the huts scattered throughout the olive groves and vineyards. The peasants ran from every direction and placed their cloaks or kerchiefs on the ground for the prophet to pass over. There were also many of the lame, the sick, and the ragged. From time to time Jesus turned his head and looked behind him at his army. Suddenly he felt an immense loneliness. He turned and cried, “Judas!” but the unsociable disciple was at the very end and did not hear.
“Judas!” Jesus shouted again, desperately.
“Here!” the redbeard replied. He pushed aside the other disciples in order to pass through.
“What do you want, Rabbi?”
“Stay next to me, Judas. Keep me company.”
“Don’t worry, Rabbi, I won’t leave you.” He took the rope from Peter’s hand and began to lead.
“Do not abandon me, Judas, my brother,” Jesus said once more.
“Why should I abandon you, Rabbi? Haven’t we already decided all that?”
At last they came close to Jerusalem. The holy city, brilliantly white in the merciless sun, towered before them on Mount Zion. They passed through a tiny hamlet and from one end to the other heard a dirge, tranquil and sweet, like warm springtime rain.
“Whom are they lamenting? Who died?” asked Jesus with a shudder.
But the villagers who ran behind him laughed. “Don’t be troubled, Master. No one died. The village girls are singing a dirge while they turn the hand mill.”
“But why?”
“To get used to it, Master. To know how to lament when the time comes.”
They climbed up the cobbled lane and entered the cannibalistic city. Noisy, richly bedecked flocks from all the ghettos of the world-each bringing its local smells and filth-were hugging and kissing each other: the day after next was the immortal festival, and all Jews were brothers! When they saw Jesus mounted on the humble ass with the crowd behind him waving palm branches, they laughed.
“Now who in the world is this?”
But the cripples, the diseased and the ragamuffins lifted their fists and threatened: “Now you’ll see! This is Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews!”
Jesus dismounted and hurriedly climbed the steps of the Temple, two by two. He reached Solomon’s Porch, stopped, and looked around him. Stalls had been set up. Thousands of people were selling, buying, bargaining, arguing, hawking their wares: merchants, money-changers, innkeepers, prostitutes. Jesus’ bile rose to his eyes; a sacred rage took possession of him. He lifted the ox-goad and swept down upon each of the wine stands, refreshment stalls and workshops; overturned the tables, struck the tradesmen with his goad. “Away! Out of here! Out of here!” he shouted, brandishing the ox-goad and advancing. Within him was a quiet, bitter entreaty: Lord, Lord, what you have decided must happen, let it happen-but quickly. I ask no other favor of you. Quickly-now while I still have strength.
The mob rushed behind him; it too frantically screamed, “Out of here! Out of here!” and looted the stalls. Jesus halted at the royal arcade, above the Cedron Valley. Smoke rose from his entire body, his long, raven-black hair streamed over his shoulders, his eyes threw out flames. “I have come to set fire to the world,” he shouted. “In the desert John proclaimed, ‘Repent! Repent! The day of the Lord is coming near!’ But I say to you, You no longer have time to repent. It has come, it has come. I am the day of the Lord! In the desert John baptized with water; I baptize with fire. I baptize men, mountains, cities, boats. I already see the fire engulfing the four corners of the earth, the four corners of the soul-and I rejoice. The day of the Lord has come: my day!”
“Fire! Fire!” shouted the mob. “Bring fire, burn up the world!”
The Levites grabbed lances and swords. Jacob, the brother of Jesus, took the lead, his amulets hanging around his neck. They rushed out to seize Jesus. But the people became ferocious; the disciples mustered up courage and in one body, bellowing, rushed to join the others in the fray.
High up in the palace tower the Roman sentries watched them and laughed.
Peter grabbed a lighted torch from one of the stalls. “After them, brothers,” he shouted. “Fire, lads. The hour has come!”
Much blood would then have been spilled in God’s courtyard if the Roman trumpets had not resounded menacingly from Pilate’s tower. And the great high priest Caiaphas emerged from the Temple and ordered the Levites to put down their arms. He had personally and with much skill dug a trap into which the insurgent would fall without fail-and without clamor.