Night bird

She was only a young girl – aged ten, or perhaps nearly eleven – but it was her task to make sure the religious leaders were well-fed and watered when they deliberated in the council chamber.

       ‘Discussing the Law is thirsty work, you know, Keziah,’ one of them said to her when she first got the job. ‘Our business is to talk for hours on the most delicate or obscure point, discussing it back and forth, examining the original language and context, and ensuring that there are no loopholes, no contradictions, no weaknesses and as many fine details as possible. Now, as you can perhaps imagine, that can take a great deal of talking. So make sure you have a jug of wine ready to refill cups. Usually, a council member will signal to you when he requires a top-up, but sometimes, it’s nice to be asked before it actually runs dry. I’d say the best time to step forward with the jug is just after a council member has just taken a sip or draught from his cup. Is all that clear?’

       ‘Yes, my lord,’ she said. It was pretty straightforward, to be honest, and only required a little common sense.

       ‘On the matter of food, it’s important that you have a different dish in your hand each time someone turns to you. It is reckoned that variety is the spice of life, so they will usually want something different from what they had before. Now, you’ll be serving five or six of these officials, so keep it clearly in mind what they ate last time, to make sure you get this right. The platter should be on your left hand, the jug of wine in your right, with other food and jugs of water in easy reach. Do you understand?’

       ‘Yes, my lord,’ she replied. This was a lot more complicated, and sounded like it required a great deal of concentration.

       In practice, however, council members were so fond of the sound of their own voices that they rarely paused for breath while they were pontificating, let alone anything more than a brief swig of wine or a morsel of finger food. Keziah quickly learned to load up one platter with a variety of blinis, crackers, bits of toast and wedges of fruit, and discover this was ideal for whichever gentleman called upon her.

       She served in this hall, the court of the Sanhedrin, for some time, and developed good friendships with the other servants. Often, at the end of their working day, they would go to one of the porticos and have a barbeque, using up leftover food from the dining table; sometimes they had to supplement it with fish from the market, if the council members had been particularly hungry. But usually, there was an abundance of food, and the servants generously invited others to sit around the fire and tell stories and have fellowship.

       They use the coded expression “to warm ourselves”, since simply referring to it as “eating up the Sanhedrin’s most choice leftovers” would probably result in this harmless practice being discovered, frowned upon and stopped.

       As a rule, providing the refreshments in the court didn’t take a great deal of concentration, she found, and after a while in the job she was able to listen to the arguments as well. Discussions frequently ranged back and forth (and round and round) over a finely balanced point of detail; they seemed inconsequential either way. Sometimes, however, the comments and questions were fascinating.

       Keziah was particularly impressed when Council Member Nick O’Deemers reported back on his meeting with the preacher known as Rabbi Jesus. He told the council that Jesus spoke mostly in riddles, but with such passion and clarity that it ‘touched my very soul’.

       He described the meeting: ‘I approached him and told him I’d heard about his preaching and healing, and that I thought he was sent from God.’ The sharp intake of breath from some council members was audible. Others laughed. ‘He declared that we must be born again. I asked him three times “how can this be?” but rather than giving me a precise answer, he pursued his theme, talking about being born of God, expressing God’s love for us all and reminding us to live in the light. It was good stuff, I suppose, but what he said was eclipsed by the way it affected me. He spoke as one addressing me directly with the words of God, and it had an authority that was undeniable.’

       At this, one or two murmured pensively, but by this time, most were shaking their heads; some in pity for how O’Deemers had been hoodwinked; others at how he was attempting to distract the council from their duty. He nevertheless concluded (quite fairly in Keziah’s opinion) ‘I recommend to the council that we take the time and trouble to hear what this man has to say.’

       Keziah had no idea if his suggestion carried any weight with the other council members. Certainly there was no discussion of when or if they would invite the preacher to address the Sanhedrin.

      

She had forgotten about it until one day she heard friends talking about the preacher from Nazareth coming their way. She decided to try to see this man, to hear his words and to consider for herself who or what he might be. She followed the crowd and was about to join them in listening to him, when one of his groupies challenged her.

       ‘Child, get away! This is for grown-ups!’ His beard was flecked with grey and his skin had the leathery appearance of man who had worked under Palestinian sunshine all his life. He spoke with a northern accent and clearly had no time for young people. ‘Go on, find your toys and go!’

       His manner was rude and aggressive, yet the crowd started to agree with him. Keziah decided it was not wise to hang around. She turned away, just as the preacher was admonishing him.

       ‘Don’t,’ Jesus began, but Keziah did not hear the rest, as his gentle words were masked by the hostility of the crowd, shooing the children and young people away. She ran, regretting that she had been so fearful of the preacher.

      

She did not think about Jesus again until one day there was consternation in the chamber. Some council members were talking animatedly about the power of his words, while others were whispering in corners about the power of his words; it seems his preaching was dividing opinion.

       Those who spoke up evidently considered him to be a man sent from God, with the authority to calm storms and heal lepers and draw great crowds of picnickers to hear him. The corner-dwelling mutterers plotted to silence him, as they had decided he was a dangerous radical, or worse.

      

Not long after, something rather extraordinary happened. At the close of business for the day, the chief steward gathered the servants and explained that there was to be what he called An Extraordinary Session that evening, and all the servants were to stay on duty, ready to serve the council. He hinted that they might be required all night. This was a first, but there was no time to discuss it, as additional preparations had to be made. The session began with Council Members arriving in ones and twos, long after nightfall, some in dark clothing, and most of them ready to eat and drink. This kept the servants busy for the first hour or so, slicing meat, serving slices of pie and helpings of bread and salad and fruit and cake and cheese...

       Most of the members were present when the there was a commotion in the doorway, as Roman soldiers escorted a shabby-looking prisoner as far as the threshold, and shoved him into the chamber. He stumbled and almost fell, but council members grabbed him and brought him to the centre of the chamber.

       ‘Here is your “Rabbi”, your teacher, your prophet of the Most High!’ one jeered.

       ‘I think not,’ someone answered.

       ‘What are the charges?’ asked another.

       ‘He threatened to destroy the temple,’ came the reply.

       ‘A blasphemer!’ others added.

       ‘Gentlemen, we are making a mistake!’ countered Nick O’Deemers, but he was not heeded.

       ‘He is of the devil!’ several cried at once.

       An older member of the council called for order. He addressed the prisoner, who stood with head bowed. ‘You offend the dignity and majesty of this chamber. It is clear you cannot be from God – after all, look at the state of you!’ He turned to the rest of the council. ‘Gentlemen, what should we do with this man? I say we hand him back to the Governor, to Pilate, so that his godless Gentile soldiers can rid us of this nuisance!’

       There was general agreement that business was concluded, and the prisoner was thrown out, back into the clutches of the soldiers, who were still at the door. A small crowd had gathered around them. One member of the crowd seemed familiar to Keziah, as she stood at her usual station, close to the door. The man was rough-looking, yet had a surprisingly gentle manner when he spoke to the prisoner, in sharp contrast to the way the rich and privileged Council Members had behaved. She could not place him at first, but as she stood and watched, the prisoner turned back to look again at the members of the council, and she realised with a start that it was Jesus, the preacher she had gone to hear, and that the rough-looking northern man was the one who had chased her away.

       She had little time to consider what she felt or how this had happened, since council members seemed to have found that disapproving of the teacher was thirsty work, and she was busy with the jug of wine for a while.

       Soon most of the council members had returned to their homes for the night, and the servant girls were able to clear the remaining food platters, tidying and preparing for the next day. Once this was done, it was well past midnight as they packed up the best-looking bits of the leftovers and took up their usual spot in the courtyard, stoking the brazier into flames, “warming themselves” and discussing the strange events.

       ‘I’ve never been asked to work a night shift before,’ Keziah said.

       ‘Nor me. And this one was very eventful! But there are some nice pieces of fish and pie in the leftovers tonight!’ Miriam replied.

       Some strangers approached as the picnic was being shared out, but they were not interested in eating. They were, however, keen to stand in the warmth.

       ‘Hey, excuse us, sir,’ said Miriam to a well-tanned man who had stepped in front of the fire and was blocking the heat from reaching them. His beard was flecked with grey.

       ‘Oh, sorry,’ he said, gently, with a northern accent, and stepped slightly to one side.

       The servants continued their conversation. ‘It was unusual, this evening,’ Kezziah said.

       ‘I thought it’d get violent at one point,’ added Miriam.

       ‘He was the preacher, you know’ said Phoebe.

       Kezziah suddenly realised what she had witnessed was a very significant rejection of a man who was thought to be from God. ‘He took it well, you know, without a word,’ Phoebe added.

       ‘They sent him back to Pontius Pilate,’ Miriam said, with sadness in her tone.

       Julia never said a great deal, but when she did speak, it was usually negative. ‘He will get what he deserves!’

       Kezziah wondered exactly what he deserved.

       Miriam was thoughtful. ‘Wouldn’t like to be in his sandals. Those soldiers were in beating mood.’

       Phoebe agreed. ‘You are right, Miriam. Him and his disciples would do well to make themselves scarce.’

       Kezziah was staring at the stranger who had blocked the heat. ‘You, sir, you were with him,’ she said. It was not an accusation; merely an observation.

       He looked startled and afraid. ‘What?’ he muttered.

       ‘You were with this Jesus. I recognise you!’

       ‘Be quiet girl, for God’s sake! You have mistaken me for someone else! Damn you! I don’t know him!’

       And with this outburst, a cock crowed from somewhere nearby. Never before had anyone heard such a sound at one in the morning – hours before the time for the traditional heralding of daylight.

       Keziah was amazed and confused, as were all the others in the courtyard. All, that is, except the grey-flecked-bearded rough northern outdoorsman. His expression was not surprise, nor confusion; neither was it amusement nor intrigue. His leathery skin glistened moist in the firelight glow as tears of repentance, regret, guilt and agony of soul fell from his eyes – hot, salty splashes on the cobblestones.

Nicodemus meets Jesus, and Peter denies him

What do you make of the way

the council member instructed Keziah?

Why, do you suppose, did the other members of the council disregard

Nick O’Deemers report and defence of Jesus?

Julia declared ‘He will get what he deserves.’

Make a list of what Jesus deserves.

Before condemning Peter as chicken, consider how

you might handle being exposed as a disciple in that hostile context.