Free Second Touch by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene Page B

Simon nodded his agreement with the high priest. For generations the Pharisees struggled to teach suitable piety to the masses, and in two short years Yeshua had convinced many of them that it ¬wasn’t all that important, that religion had more to do with the condition of the heart than a proper regard for the 613 dos and ¬don’ts. “Now many say this Yeshua is a rebel,” Caiaphas continued, “and should be turned over to the Romans as a traitor. But I cannot in good conscience do this, for he is a Jew after all. We are a people of law and proper procedure, and he must be given a fair hearing. I never wish to act without giving an adversary a fair hearing.” The weight of the warning hung in the air like an executioner’s blade suspended overhead. “So ¬I’m gathering all the information I can before proceeding further. ¬I’m told you met this so— called rabbi in person . . . that you had him as a guest in your home?” Simon recognized in this statement a demonstration of the high priest’s network of informants. Since this event was exactly what he’d expected to be queried about, he felt no fear. “A year ago it was, and more,” he admitted, “closer to two. Yeshua had been teaching in the synagogue in my hometown of Capernaum. At that time he had a decent enough reputation, performing healings and such.” Caiaphas narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Done, of course, either through trickery or black magic,” Simon added hurriedly. Caiaphas nodded. “At any rate, a story went round the Galil that Yeshua had brought a young man back to life . . . impossible, of course, but so ran the tale. Probably spread deliberately to make him sound like a prophet—Elijah or Elisha, I expect. I wanted to see for myself what the truth was, so I invited Yeshua and his followers to supper, and he agreed.” “Go on.” “Several of my brother Pharisees also attended, as well as other leading men of the Galil. Right from the first I wanted it to be clear that I was

acting ¬only as a concerned citizen, not out of some misguided personal interest.” “Unlike others of your faith, who have not been so cautious,” Caiaphas muttered. “Nakdimon ben Gurion would do well to take a lesson from you.” Simon agreed. “So when I welcomed Yeshua I was cordial but reserved, proper but wary. You ¬understand?” “Perfectly.” “Supper passed pleasantly enough. Yeshua made several remarks about . . . oh, I ¬don’t know . . . inconsequential sayings about faith, not judging others, loving your enemies. The kind of philosophical twaddle that is of no practical value. Not straightforward, like a good set of rules and guidelines.” Simon noted that Caiaphas looked impatient so he hurried on. “Then quite unexpectedly, this woman appeared in the dining room. I ¬don’t know how she got in the house. I’ve since discharged my steward, because I think he lied about being ordered to admit her by some Roman officer. Anyway, there she was: a notorious sinner, a true harlot, a jezebel of scandalous reputation for her loose living. Why, even if I hadn’t known her, it was clear from her manner and dress what she was! I was dumbfounded. And then before I could order her to be thrown out, the matter got even worse. She circled the tables to where Yeshua was reclining and stopped beside his feet. Great tears flowed down her cheeks. In her hands she carried an alabaster jar of perfume. I was stunned, stunned at her effrontery! This harlot let her tears fall on Yeshua’s feet . . . on his feet, while he remained perfectly still, saying nothing.” Simon sensed the return of the same righteous indignation he had experienced when the event was in progress. “Unbinding her hair—masses of curly chestnut hair—she bent over Yeshua’s feet and washed his feet with her tears and her hair!” Simon shuddered at the recollection. “She kissed his feet! Put her filthy, degraded lips on him. Laid her cheek against his feet! He gave no