Chapter 20

On a hillside in the country, halfway between Bethphage and Bethany, with no shelter but the spreading branches of an ancient cypress, a company of forlorn men from Galilee sat silently watching the sun go down.

They had made no preparations for a celebration of The Passover, and it was too late now to do anything about it, even if the facilities had been available. They had no lamb, no house, no door-posts to anoint with blood, no roasting-oven, no table.

It wouldn’t have mattered—certainly not to the Big Fisherman—had they faced this predicament at home in Capernaum. The Passover had meant nothing to him for many years, not since he was a youngster in his pious father’s home; and even then he had regarded the depressing ceremonies with glum indifference. But here, on the outskirts of the Holy City, where the commemoration was so universally and reverently observed, the Jew in Simon the son of Jonas felt lonely, lost, expatriated.

‘Andy,’ he remarked to his sober-faced brother, seated on the ground beside him, ‘Andy, down there in the city are hundreds, perhaps thousands, from all the provinces, who would feel honoured to have the Master eat the Passover with them; but are afraid to admit that they are his friends.’

Andrew nodded slowly, but made no reply, and Peter continued reminiscently:

‘Last summer, when they brought their sick ones to him for healing, and were deeply moved by his words of comfort, they wished they might invite him home with them to be their guest. Now that he is in danger—’

Peter’s low-voiced soliloquy was interrupted by a little stir immediately behind them. Jesus, who had been sitting quite apart from the silent men, had come forward and reseated himself between John and James. All eyes slowly drifted in that direction.

‘We will observe the Passover,’ he said. ‘You two brothers will arrange for it. Go now to the highway and proceed through Bethany until you overtake a man who will be entering his home with a pitcher of water on his shoulder. There is an unused upper room in his house. Tell him to prepare it for your Master and his company.’

They rose to do his bidding.

‘Shall we try to find a sacrificial lamb?’ asked John.

Jesus closed his eyes and shook his head.

‘The master of the house will provide you with wheaten bread and a flagon of wine,’ he said. ‘That will suffice.’

‘Will we be returning here for the night, Master?’ asked James.

‘No. Take your blankets with you. After supper we will rest in the Garden of Gethsemane.’

‘Have you money to pay this man for the use of his room?’ inquired Judas, jingling the coin-pouch.

The brothers turned inquiring eyes toward Jesus and he waved them on their way, making no reply to Judas, who, realizing that he had spoken out of turn, shrugged and resumed his seat. Young Thad, sitting nearest him, presently got to his feet and strolled over to drape his jacket about old Bartholomew’s shoulders; for the sun was setting and the air was chilly.

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