The Madonna and the Political Prisoner, Chapter 20

Chapter 20 AD 26

We didn’t have much to eat for breakfast this morning as we left Bethany so early and John told me that Joshua had been out alone praying well before dawn. He must be hungry now. There’s not much vegetation beside this road but I can see a fig tree in the distance and with a bit of luck there may be ripe figs we can pick Joshua and most of the disciples have gathered round the tree, but Andrew and Nathaniel who’ve gone to pick the fruit, shout back that they can see nothing – either it’s barren or someone has beaten us to it.

Then something extraordinary happens. Joshua curses the fig tree and declares it will always be barren. Why? What has the poor tree done to him? Has tiredness got the better of Joshua and put him in a bad mood? Has he really lost his temper just because he was hungry and it was bare of fruit? It’s not like him at all. Losing his temper with the traders in the Temple yesterday, and now this. Yesterday I could understand, his anger was justified, but this? It seems so petty.

I didn’t hear much after that. John walked back to me and we continue uphill towards the city.

“John, did Joshua really curse that fig tree and make it barren?”

“Yes.”

“Why? It’s not like him. What was the point?”

“I think he was trying to teach us something. I think he was trying to demonstrate to us – not just his disciples, but some of the other followers as well – that he had power over nature, but that if we followed and obeyed him, we could utilise such power ourselves and do similar things. And what’s more, I’m not sure if he really made that tree barren. I have a shrewd idea he’d seen signs of blight on the tree and knew it would be barren and die in the next season or two. He’s pretty sharp in his observation and knowledge of nature.”

I suppose that’s an explanation. It seemed a very odd thing for him to do, out of character, but John doesn’t seem too bothered.

Eventually we get to the Temple. We buy some bread and figs from a trader on the way – Joshua will certainly not let anyone buy things inside the Temple courtyard after yesterday’s near riot. He’s so angry at the hypocrisy of the outwardly religious that he won’t let any of his followers open themselves to similar criticism that could be used against him. When we arrive, we find a large crowd already gathered. He’s been expected. I notice in the crowd several blind men and a couple of severely crippled women. Joshua spots them and calls them forward. They are helped through the surging crowd by those accompanying them. Clearly they’d come in the hope that Joshua would heal them and they’re not disappointed. He spends time with each one, talking quietly to them – I can’t hear what he says for the crowd is noisy. But there are exclamations, and cheering and singing breaks out as one after another shout that they can see, and the elderly women seem to be transformed from stooped huddled beings into upright mature women, in fact one now seems to be no more than a slip of a girl. A rumour spreads round the crowd – she had been born deformed and no physician had ever been able to help her. I could guess the accuracy of this because she is now radiant, beaming at all of us and bubbling with laughter. She is quite transformed.

Some in the crowd start dancing and lots of children suddenly seem to be there running around all over the Temple steps, nearly bumping into a knot of white-robed bearded men looking on in disdain at this frantic activity. Then the children make it worse by yelling out ‘Praise to King David’s son’, a clear reference to the Messiah. The men, I suppose they’re rabbis from the Temple, remonstrate with the children’s parents or anyone near at hand, that what the children are shouting is sacrilege, blasphemy and they must be stopped. Joshua hears this and steps across and defends the children. Typically he takes the children seriously. He speaks directly to the complaining men.

“Let the children be. They’re just doing what comes naturally. No-one’s put them up to it, which I know is what you’re thinking. Children are intuitive. They say what they think without dissembling. You should listen to them sometimes. You might learn something!”

One of the men turns furiously to him.

“Are you claiming they’re right? Are you really accepting what they say in their ignorance and using babies’ words to strengthen your dubious claim to be our Messiah? Just look at you, nothing but a peasant from Galilee with a smattering of knowledge of quackery!”

This makes those who overhear this exchange angry and the rabbis decide to beat a hasty retreat before they get jostled further. They depart muttering to the jeers of the crowd.

Joshua then starts again to teach the crowd and tells some stories, then contrasts the behaviour of the humble pilgrims with the pig-headedness and obstinate pride of the elite Pharisees, priests and rabbis. It’s a popular message but it won’t make him any friends in high places. I can just guess what James will be thinking now.

Later, in the afternoon, a group of rabbis from the Temple turn up at the edge of the crowd. Joshua has been answering questions from men in the assembled throng, which is growing every hour, and, confident now among several of their peers, one of the rabbis decides to challenge Joshua.

“Yesterday you were condemning the payment of donations to the Temple. What do you think we should do with our money then? Pay it all in taxes to the Romans to let them occupy our land in luxury and send our wealth back to layabouts and slave-owners in Rome?”

They’re trying to trap Joshua. They want to goad him into saying something that will give them reason to denounce him to the Roman authorities. I’m sure Joshua realises this, he’s not that naïve. Joshua is thinking hard and the crowd falls silent waiting to see what he’ll say. He turns to Judas.

“Give me a coin from our purse!”

Judas scrabbles in his bag and produces a silver coin. Joshua peers at it, holds it up, glinting in the sun.

He turns to the rabbi who questioned him.

“Well, learned teacher, whose head is inscribed on this coin?”

“The Emperor’s, Caesar Tiberius, I think it is.”

“Perfectly correct. So then, give to Caesar what belongs to him, and give to God what’s his.”

The rabbi doesn’t know what to say. Joshua has wriggled out of his trap. Those nearby who heard everything give a laugh. The rabbi tries to recover and redeem himself.

“Well at least I do give to God, I’m a generous man and pay a handsome donation regularly to the Temple.”

“Yes, I guess you do, from your more than ample resources. I saw an elderly widow here yesterday. When she thought no-one was looking she put a tiny coin in the Temple donation box. I tell you, that woman was more generous than you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, man. I give more in a day than that woman would have acquired in a year.”

“Exactly, you’ve just proved my point. She gave all she’d got. You just give a small proportion of your wealth. So she’s fully committed. You’re not!”

Joshua turns back to the crowd of those eager to hear him, while the thwarted rabbi tries to slip unnoticed back into his own.

“Do you want some stories?”

“Yes!” roar the crowd in unison.

“Right. There were two sons. Their father was a farmer. He asked them to help him one day harvesting in the fields. It was going to be hot work and both were reluctant, and the younger one was honest and told his father he wouldn’t go. The other chipped in at once and said he would certainly go and smirked as his father patted him on the back and said “Good lad.” But it didn’t quite work out that way. The first boy, when he really thought about it, felt ashamed that he’d left his father to do all the hard work, and despite what he’d said, he turned up and worked hard. However, the elder son, having said all the right things, got distracted, forgot his promise and then, later, when he remembered, thought it was too late and couldn’t be bothered. He’d make his excuse later, his father knew he’d intended to, unlike that ungrateful brat of his younger brother. Which one then pleased his father?”

The bright ones in the crowd soon grasp that he’s comparing the priests and rabbis with the elder son who is outwardly obedient but inwardly a sinner. They’re still debating who the other boy represents when Joshua starts another story.

“You’ve all been to wedding feasts,’ he exclaims, grinning. “I’m sure you are delighted to receive an invitation and go and celebrate with the bridegroom and his new wife. But not the guests in this story. They all made excuses. The groom’s father thought they were his friends and he was so disappointed in them. So he told his servants to go out and bring anyone they found in the streets to the feast, he didn’t want the hall empty.” He pauses to let the story sink in. Some are getting his meaning. I suspect the priests and rabbis think he’s getting at them. “God invites everyone, but not everyone accepts.”

Just to make sure everyone gets his meaning, he tells yet another story.

“A wealthy man had a vineyard and let portions of it out to tenants who tended it and were entitled to some of the harvest, a set proportion of that owned by the man. So at harvest-time he sent his slaves to collect his due. The tenants ganged up against them and sent them away empty-handed. So the landowner sent paid servants and they were similarly rejected, some were beaten up and a couple died from their injuries. The landlord was furious and sent his own son, thinking that they would at least respect him and hand over the proportion of the harvest due to him. But these scoundrels saw their opportunity and murdered the son, thinking they could now claim the land as the owner had no other sons who could inherit. So the owner, in great distress and anguish, had the villains arrested and jailed and gave instructions that the vineyard was to be divided and given to the local poor villagers.”

Some people are looking a bit puzzled.

“God has sent many prophets to the nation of Israel. Many have been rejected, some mistreated, some actually killed. Even now some are plotting to kill me.”

Shouts of ‘No!’ and ‘Never!’ rend the air. Joshua looks at the group of rabbis at the edge of the crowd.

“Yes, they are. And they know who I’m talking about.”

The crowd is growing restive and I notice that most of the rabbis and priests have slipped away. But one who is more courageous – or perhaps angrier than the others - decides to challenge Joshua further.

“You say all these things. You get the crowd on your side. But on what authority do you speak? Who trained you? What qualifications do you have? You sound as though you believe you’re speaking the words of God. What makes you think you’re a prophet?”

“You all went out to hear John the Baptiser at the Jordan River. He was no better educated than me. Do you believe he was a prophet of God?”

The man finds it difficult to quarrel with this as many from Jerusalem had gone to hear him, and it is widely acknowledged that he was a prophet.

“So on whose authority did John preach? Did his authority come from God?”

The rabbi says nothing for he doesn’t want to upset the crowd.

“Since you say nothing, I assume you accept that his authority came from God. So if I say the same, why do you challenge me?”

The rabbi remains silent.

“So you can’t answer that. If you stay silent and won’t answer me, I’ll do the same. I won’t tell you where my authority comes from. You can work it out for yourself.”

The embarrassed man finally leaves, the crowd now laughing at his discomfiture. But no sooner has he gone, than a group of Sadducees from the Sanhedrin turn up. People say they don’t believe in people rising from death to an afterlife and they begin to question Joshua about this. But they’re easy for Joshua to counter. They pick a rather silly argument.

“Rabbi, if you say human beings can rise after death, what happens if a man has had seven wives in his life, all of them dying one after another before their husband? Which is his wife in the afterlife?”

“You take things too literally. The afterlife is spiritual, not physical. Gender doesn’t matter, it’s not a spiritual state.”

These Sadducees are soon bested. They don’t ask him any more questions for fear of looking fools. We go home in safety, the cheerful laughing crowd following us, people still bringing sick children and adults for him to bless and heal. Has Joshua really got the better of them? Will he now be left in peace?