The morning Rooster
The other eight, that were down the hill from us, heard the authority in Jesus’ voice and came running up to us to find out what trouble had befallen. And had found us with Jesus watching as torches, many of them, were marching up the hill in a single row that had the look of lanterns lined up as if a night time celebration was taking place in one of the nobles’ home, and was being displayed.
As the rather large group approached, Judas was one among, and walked up and kissed the Lord. I knew my ole friend would not let us down, for he too was now one of us, in the case something ill was to happen.
Looking closer, as my eyes adjusted to the sudden band of lights, I could tell that many of them were carrying clubs and swords, I fully awoke from the recent slumber and my demeanor changed instantly. But when one reached out to take hold of Jesus, I too raised my sword, and wanting to inflict a non-lethal pain, cut the ear of Caiaphas’ servant completely off his head. This was a warning, and all was to understand that the Lord was protected, and I was his protector.
The matter was resolved by the hand and the words of Jesus, which really didn’t suit me at all. They arrested him and were willing to drag Him back down the hill, but Jesus walked peaceably with the scribes, Pharisees, and elders, in the same snake-like lit up trail that they ascended with. Waiting only a few minutes, and with stealth, I followed. If something could be done, I was going to do it, for this was the man that had brought the change from emptiness to purpose in my life, and I would by any means possible, rescue my greatest friend from any turbulence.
The night sky had only an occasional curly cloud, and it being only three days ‘til full moon, it was not hard to see as I walked a distance behind the mob. Once in a while I’d happen close to some passerby, or someone camping with a fire close to the trail. They clearly had seen the precession before me and every once in a while one would chance to ask what was going on, but all were ignored. Not being far from the city, and it being the day of the Feast of Passover, many a fire could be seen flickering throughout the city from this vantage point, as I approached.
All night was spent wandering from one fire to another in an attempt to stay warm, but staying close to the court yard, where just inside the Lord was. I’m not sure what my strategy was, but I still remained hopeful that a break would come and the rescue successful. Once in a while I’d get too close to the fire where the light was brightest and someone would recognize me, but I’d run off trying to be more careful at the next fire, because the night had more than a chill in it. The mood in the city was festive at times, and somber in another section, as I wandered around looking for opportunity and in hopes of maybe hearing news of the goings on inside. Someone would come from inside shaking his head, and then another with this cheerful look on his face, but most of those on the outside seemed oblivious to anything, but of the needs of the Passover, or those that were attending to it.
The night was wearing on, and still no word of what the Pharisees were up to, and I still didn’t know when they would release my Jesus back to us, so as, that we could get back to the teachings and healings. Great words had been said, and I think they were being absorbed within me, but at this place in my life, I was nowhere near the maturity that was needed to sustain peace in my life. The general anxiety, had for the most part, subsided, but the emptiness still lingered, but with much less intensity. I knew my life was on the right path, but still at this time needed my Lord to return back with His authority to maintain the course of my being.
Near a fire, warming my hands, for the night had become much colder, a man in a colored robe had approached me and we talked. He spoke mostly about the crispness in the air, spring coming soon, and the doings of the Passover, it certainly helped to pass the time and get my mind off of whatever was happening inside. It was then that an older lady, sitting across the fire, looking at me with an intensity that cut right through my existence, stood up and shouted: “That man is one that followed Jesus; I’d seen them several times together.
I backed off, so as the light from the fire couldn’t reach my face, and mumbled that it was not me and ran to a secluded ally between two close together buildings. Heart racing, legs tired, sweat trickling down my cold face, and all I could think of was, why all the fear? This man that had led us and many others had done no wrong. He had authority over all things, whether it is sickness, unclear spirits, and even raising the His friend Lazarus from the dead, and had on several occasions set the scribes and Pharisees back on their heels with His evidence of the Truth. I was scared and couldn’t figure out why. Jesus didn’t live for life; life lived for Him, so why was all the anxiety raging inside of me? I thought as I panted to catch my breath. Jesus was a man of wonder, I thought, why would someone want to do harm to Him, and then again the thoughts were that the Sanhedrin wanted only to talk, and all would be well. It wasn’t hard to see that the very essence of my soul was being attacked from every angle. So as I relaxed, my heart beat now normal, I began to see strength rise again inside me. With my attitude lifting, I now slowly began to see that we were all going to come through this alright.
Walking through the ally to the other side of the same building, which was near, if not beside the temple, I could hear a group of gathered people singing some of the old songs of Abraham, and stopped just to listen. As each song ended someone would stand and give what sounded like a eulogy, and then the singing began again. I could see food being passed around and each was in good cheer. As I approached, taking deliberate steps, so as not trip over the left behind trash still in the roadway, one of them noticed me and asked if I sought to join them. Hearing this, another advanced holding his hand out, grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him with a hug that seemed genuine.
Sitting down among them felt to be the right place, and all were welcoming me as another song began and I allied myself with them to sing the song that many times my family sung of yesteryears gone by.
Food was plenty and I was hungry, so when asked to join in their celebration with drink and food, I obliged. We sat and sang and ate and talked there around a fire that had to be stoked every few minutes so as to keep it at its’ present intensity. It was truly a celebration.
Sometime later, as we all enjoyed each other’s company, a young girl, I’d say about the age of fifteen, said that she, in amazement had watched Jesus, in and around the city, and thought Him to be a prophet. Had seen him and heard Him speak on overcoming the world, and thought it to be very interesting. Once seeing Jesus with women followers, she had at one point thought of maybe joining His group.
In a calm expression, looking me directly in the eyes, with a smile that could light up the world, asked if I was one that also followed Jesus. My mouth flew open, eyes almost shut, and thinking to myself whether this girl was a friend or foe. Her innocence was written all over her, and not knowing what to do, for I knew many wanted Jesus and those that followed Him, in their hands. As I turned to run back to the same alley that I arrived from, I twisted my head and mumbled that it wasn’t me.
In the small passageway I stopped to catch my breath, set down and looked both directions to see if someone else was occupying the same haven as I now rested in.
This time in late night or maybe thinking it was early morning, I sat squirming, wringing my hands, thinking of how I was to rid myself of this mess. Thinking in one direction and almost at the same time thinking in another, my mind ran rampant, as I studied the situation to reckon out the best course to go from here. It was perplexing as I thought of leaving the city, and then a thought of busting though the temple, or maybe join a group of the pilgrims as they were leaving the temple, in hopes of escaping and no one recognizing that I too walked with Jesus.
Several times in the process of going from one fire to another, I had seen John. He seemed to be m
uch bolder than I, or maybe just didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. We didn’t speak at any of the times, and I’m not sure he even saw me, but even his distant presence was of some comfort to me, and maybe it helped a little just knowing he was here.
Still dark and getting colder, and knowing this alley was not the place to be, I staggered ever so slowly toward the passage of the temple. Wanting to see what the shouting was that echoed through the passageway and filled the street with many cries of anger. While creeping ever so slowly to the stone channel that led to the inner room, the place where they surely held my Lord against His will, I peered in as day ever so slightly began to break. Only a faint trace of gray was hinted in the eastern sky. Leaning back flat against the corner stone, I rolled my head to the left, twisting it to look around the corner to see the goings on. A young man, from across the street, pointed and shouted; “there he is!” I shook my head in disapproval to him to be quiet. It was then that a rooster crowed, and Jesus turned and looked straight at me as if he’d known all along that I was there.
It hit me, and it hit hard in an instant, legs weakened, heart racing, my head went flush as I bent forward with a pain in my stomach as the shame of my very being was on trial. Realizing for the first time just what a wretch I was for denying the only man, that I called Christ, His right position in my life. Realizing instantly that I shamed my very existence before Christ, the world, and my own ego, to save my neck from the same fate that stood before me, bound and humiliated. I ran fast and as hard as I could for as long as I could until collapsing under a fig tree, just as day broke bright into sunshine.
I wept, teeth gnashing, and moaned from the deepest part of my being as bitterness toward me filled the bones of my withering frame. Everything that I stood for, everything that I stood up to, the leadership I so desired, all washed away by the act of preserving myself, and the false humility that stroked my pride during these past few days.
The day had broken, the sky red against the curly clouds that look more like waves on the sea than they did floating alongside the rather large hill that now brighten west of the city as the sun cast its beauty on it. The air still cold, but not that I noticed very much, the ground damp as I watched a dung beetle scampering across the sand where some animal had previously been. My mind was on the guilt and shame of the event that had happened in this very hour of the morning. It was not a matter of getting caught denying my Lord; it was the impact of realizing that my whole life was represented in that same hour. I was a shallow man, a man motivated by fear, a man of good intensions, but no back bone in my belief.
As I watched a flock of geese flying north in an almost perfect V- shape, I wondered what I’d do if the elders of the temple came after me. If my life could be as carefree as the above birds on wing above me, I too would fly to some remote place up north and hide my days out. Everything I wanted, everything I believed, everything that I stood for, vanished in the few moments that it took that rooster to crow.
The city was filled with people going to and fro, in and around the city, and as the day was now brightly lit by the sun squinting between the clouds, I could see that this place too was surrounded by activity. With my stomach in knots, and my head pounding, I sat among a small grove of fig trees and wept. The pain was so severe from the wrong that I did to Jesus; but mostly from the anguish in discovering this flaw in my own life. Who would be next? I thought. If I did this before Him, what would I do to others? I just sat there wallowing in my pity, with my face straight against the sun, for shadows were not formed yet by the suns low appearance. The tears no longer running down my cheeks and soaking my feet as I sat with my knees bowed into chin, staring off in the distance and looking at nothing. They had all dried up, I was still crying bitterly, but had exhausted all tears, and now the only sign of my weeping was the convulsive jerks that my body made in response to the repulsive act of the night.