Man in White Page 3

  Perhaps a few of the things I have written, I humbly suggest, resulted from a tiny flicker from God’s great storehouse of brilliance.

  I dedicate this book to my father, Ray Cash, whose face I saw in that tiny flicker.

  John Cash

  Bon Aqua, Tennessee

  March 21, 1986

  PROLOGUE

  He had been called Cephas, the Rock, by the Nazarene. His actions were anything but stonelike. His hands moved from one outstretched hand to another in the crowd. They called his name and pleaded for him to touch them. His touch left many in ecstasy. Some fainted; some looked toward the sky and uttered words of praise at having been so fortunate as to be touched by the big fisherman.

  He moved slowly eastward across the Tyropoean Valley and on up the street toward the steps that crossed the southern porch of the Temple compound. He was dressed in a one-piece homespun robe made of goat’s hair, and he wore sandals he had made himself. He was a tall, robust man, with a square face and strong nose. Dark eyebrows shadowed the kind, deep pools of his black eyes. His thick, unkempt hair was a copper color, and his full red beard had never been cut.

  He moved among the people with a loving, gentle grace. He was followed by many little children, some of whom pulled at his robe. He reached down and, smiling, picked up a boy in one arm and a girl in the other. He held them close against his face, rubbing his coarse beard against them and leaving them laughing with merriment.

  At the foot of the steps surrounded by a large group of people were James and John, the sons of Zebedee from Galilee. John was speaking to the people, quoting some of the sayings of Jesus. “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me shall never hunger, and he who believes on me shall never thirst.”

  “Give to me this bread of life,” shouted a man with palsy. His hands reached out, shaking uncontrollably. John grasped them to hold them still and said, “In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, be whole.” The man held his steady hands before his face and wept unrestrained.

  From Jericho and Bethany they came. From Samaria they came, the poor, the sick, the blind, the infirm. Their numbers clogged the thoroughfares in and out of Jerusalem. By the hundreds they came, by the thousands they came. Undaunted by the heat and the dust, they hobbled along on makeshift crutches or were carried on litters by their loved ones. One man crawled on his hands and knees from Bethlehem. They all had a common destination in mind—Solomon’s Porch, the spacious, open, colonnaded area on the side of the Temple compound. It was here that Cephas, or Simon Peter, preached at three o’clock every afternoon. Hundreds already gathered on the porch. Hundreds more were on the steps, and countless more streamed from every direction to try to see the fisherman Cephas.

  A man with twisted feet and hands cried out to Peter, “Let your shadow pass over me and I will be healed.” Peter’s shadow covered the man as he stopped and smiled down at him. Then he moved on, leaving the ecstatic, weeping man behind him.

  He moved to the steps, and the people parted to make a pathway for him to ascend. They fell in behind him and moved up with him. The steps became a mass of humanity,moving toward the great quadrangle, which opened into the Court of the Gentiles.

  With the crowd gathered around him, Peter began to speak.

  Across the Temple compound within the Court of Israel the council was in session. Caiaphas, Jonathan, Alexander, and Theophilus, the kinsman of old Annas, the high priest, sat with the Sanhedrin.

  Jonathan was officially high priest and wore the vestments of that office, as did Annas’s nephew Caiaphas. The younger Alexander was somewhat of an embarrassment to Annas because of his Greek name. It had been heard said in the Court of Israel itself that Alexander’s election to the high priesthood would bring shame upon Israel. The words “Father Alexander” would taste bitter in the mouth of a son of the Covenant.

  It was a strange situation. Jonathan had been readily accepted and served well. Yet for a people steeped in history, the four hundred years since the Macedonian Greek Alexander the Great had sacked towns and slaughtered the children of Israel was a relatively short time.

  Alexander’s time, however, would come.

  When the balding, white-haired Annas decided to sit on the seat of the high priest, his family took secondary seats close to yet lower than his.

  Annas ruled not only the Court of Israel; his worldly power, influence, and wealth extended throughout the immediate area. Toward Bethlehem he owned a vast parcel of land upon which his shepherds raised the snow-white lambs to be sold in the courts of the very Temple where he was high priest. His dovecotes in Bethany and on the Mount of Olives housed thousands of the cooing white birds, which were purchased by the very poor as an acceptable sacrifice. His wealth had grown at an amazing rate. His Greek wife, Athaena, supervised the operation of stalls in the Temple compound. His personal hoard of foreign silver and gold coins was fabulous.

  Annas glanced up at the gold water-clock on the balcony. The scales of justice hung evenly from the clock, which now showed that the tenth hour of the day was past. “Is there any further business for this court?” he asked his sons and nephew.

  From his seat in the council, Saul the Pharisee, the newest and youngest member of the Sanhedrin, sprang to his feet with his left arm raised.

  “Yes?” said Annas, tiredly eyeing him, then the clock again.

  “The Lord has brought over us a deep sleep,” Saul said, paraphrasing the quote from the prophet Isaiah. “He has sealed our eyes and covered our heads.”

  Annas regarded Caiaphas, then Jonathan, questioningly for an indication of what the fiery Pharisee was speaking about. They shrugged their shoulders, and Annas asked, “What are you talking about, Saul?”

  Saul paused to give his coming words impact, then said boldly, “This council stands in danger of sacrilege. The very laws and sacrifices it protects are mocked within the Temple courts.”

  Annas did not move; he sat waiting with his eyes on Saul. The other priests looked toward Annas, anxious as to how he would handle this confrontation.

  Saul continued, louder and bolder than before. “The chief apostles of the carpenter-rabbi from Nazareth are now preaching and healing on Solomon’s Porch. Their leader is one called Cephas, the same one who was brought before this court and admonished to teach no more in the name of the Nazarene.” Saul’s temper rose. “He proclaims in the Nazarene the power of resurrection of the dead.”

  Annas sighed deeply. He looked down, then up at Saul. “This Cephas is again teaching in that name?”

  “Yes,” shouted Saul, “and his hearers multiply.”

  Annas paused a moment and sighed again; then with the golden baton he held in his hand, he struck a loud cymbal. “May the Most High be praised by the judgment of this court,” he said.

  Immediately seven Temple guards entered the room and stood before the high priest. The chief guard stepped forward.

  The high priest said, “Use all care not to bring unrest to the people of Solomon’s Porch, but at an opportune time arrest Cephas and those of his party who preach and heal in the name of the Nazarene, Jesus.”

  The chief guard raised his left arm in salute to the ruler of the Jews.

  “Imprison them,” Annas continued, “and bring them before this court tomorrow morning.”

  The air was foul, and the prison stank. The chatter of rats was constant. It was long past midnight, and Peter and John sat on the damp floor with their backs against the wall. They had talked long into the night, sharing the joys of suffering for their Master’s sake. The murmur of their voices had made the two guards sleepy, and they nodded. They sat on each side of the heavy iron door and slept.

  The voices of the apostles fell silent, and they, too, would have slept— except for the light. The light seemed to come from nowhere, yet everywhere. A white brilliance covered the jail door, and the iron bars vanished. There appeared an angelic form where the bars had stood.

  The brilliance of the angel was blinding, and Peter and John closed t
heir eyes and fell to their knees. The angel reached out its hands to the apostles, signaling them to rise to their feet.

  “Go stand in the Temple,” said the angel, “and speak words of life to the people.”

  Peter and John rose, and a warmth and a joy engulfed them as they walked toward the light. They walked on through the light and out of the prison. Then as quickly as it appeared, the light was gone. The iron door appeared again, locked, with the guards sleeping beside it.

  The next day they were arrested again as they were leaving the Temple after preaching to a great crowd in the southern court and brought before the high priest. Annas eyed them coolly. “You have obviously gained great favor with the people of this city,” he said to the fishermen. Then cynically, “The news of your healing the cripple at the Gate called Beautiful has been broadcast to every ear. You have gained many followers.”

  “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone,” said Peter.

  Annas ignored Peter’s quote from the Psalms, refusing to equate the psalmist’s prophecy with the coming of the Nazarene. “We gave you strict orders not to teach in the name of the Nazarene,” he said. “You seem determined to make us guilty of this man’s blood.”

  John spoke up for the first time. “We must obey God rather than men.”

  Peter, fully in command of the defense, raised his hand. He looked kindly upon the young John, then taking up from John, he said, “The God of our fathers raised Jesus from the dead.”

  A ripple of low murmuring went through the Sanhedrin. Saul of Tarsus murmured to himself, but loud enough to be heard, “Abomination of desolation.”

  Peter ignored him. “He whom you had crucified God has exalted to his right hand as Prince and Savior, that he might give repentance and forgiveness of sins to Israel. We are witnesses to these things, as is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him.”

  Gamaliel was an honored teacher of the Law. He raised his hands, and the room became quiet.

  “Father Annas,” he said, “it is improper that these men stand before this court, if this court is going to debate their fate at this time. I move that these men be taken to a secured chamber in this hall until such time as judgment is pronounced.”

  Annas motioned for the captain of the guards, and Peter and John were gently but quickly ushered from the room.

  Annas motioned for Gamaliel to come forward and address the Sanhedrin. When everyone was quiet and all eyes were upon him, Gamaliel said,“Men of Israel, consider carefully what you would do to these men. These are not the first in Israel to draw the people after them. Some time ago a man called Theudas appeared. About four hundred people rallied to him. He was killed, and his followers were dispersed.

  “Now again,” said Gamaliel, “hundreds, even thousands gather daily to hear these fishermen from Galilee. By their works it appears to one that they are not promoting rebellion against Israel or against Rome. By some power the cripple was healed who has sat for forty years at the Gate called Beautiful. This court examined him, and the whole city knows of this miracle.

  “And may I remind you,” continued Gamaliel, “in the days of the census, Judas the Galilean led a band of people in revolt. He, too, was killed, and his followers were scattered. Therefore, I advise you, leave these men alone and let them go. If their activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you cannot stop them. You will be fighting against God.”

  Saul dropped his head in submission. Such a statement by Gamaliel before the high priest was tantamount to an ultimatum to and a decision by the Sanhedrin.

  Annas had Peter and John brought back in and said to them, “You shall be taken to the Hall of Flagellation. At least the scourge will remind you that this court is still the ruling body of the Jews and that this Temple is the dwelling place of the Most High. You should remember that our traditions and our holy laws are not open to individual interpretation. Should you return to your former ways and preach in that name, you will be brought before this council for your final judgment.”

  The sound of the lashes echoed in the stone chamber. Peter and John stood facing marble columns with their arms stretched around the cold stones and their hands tied tightly. The lash cut their backs as it came down time after time. Though the whip cut the skin and drops of blood ran down their backs into their loincloths, Peter’s expression of ecstasy never changed.

  This gruesome scourging was the one thing the Sanhedrin borrowed from the Romans. Garments were ripped down the back, exposing the flesh to the requisite thirty-nine stripes.

  Halfway through the ordeal, John moaned in pain. Peter shouted, “Bear up, John! Count it glorious that we are privileged to suffer for the Master’s sake.”

  Saul stood beside the door silently watching. He had never felt such hatred. What idiotic fanaticism! he thought. It would be better if all Israel were rid of these religious lepers . . .

  ONE

  THE VOW, AD 37

  Sometime just before dawn, Saul was awakened by a sound in his room. He heard nothing at first, then, again a crunch, crunch, like feet walking on straw. Then it stopped. He looked around the room in the dim light and saw that he was alone.Maybe it was my imagination, he thought and dozed off into a light sleep again. Then he heard the sound again and a light bumping noise. He looked slowly and silently around his room, first at the wall and the window, then, straining to see his door, he noted that it was still bolted. Nothing there. He looked at the back wall where the loom stood. He saw nothing unusual, yet there was the sound again. It was coming from the area of the room where the cubical stood that held his scrolls of Scripture. His eyes remained on the spot as the morning light slowly revealed the scene. The velvet covering had fallen to the floor. His scrolls were all in their place, except for one. It was pulled out a few centimeters and was being gnawed and eaten by a large rat.

  A low moan started in Saul’s throat, and as the sound became audible, the rat stopped eating and raised its head, turning its black eyes upon Saul. Saul got up slowly. The rat didn’t move. Saul reached down to the floor and picked up one of his sandals. He raised it over his head and with a grunt threw it at the rat. The rat leaped to the floor and disappeared. The sandal knocked another one of the scrolls to the floor.

  The rat was under the loom now, and Saul crept across the floor, pushed the loom over, and leaped with his bare feet down on the hard rock floor where the rat had been. He looked around the room, trying to decide where the rat had hidden. His cloak lay on the floor by the bed. He danced upon it, but the rat wasn’t there. Embarrassed at himself, he turned again to survey the room. The vile rodent had to be near the basket and spindle. He slowly crept up and kicked the basket. The rat jumped out, but out with it came a mass of fibers its feet had become entangled in. The rat leaped left and right, sideways and upside down in a frenzy to free itself, but it only succeeded in entangling itself more. Saul watched it squirm as it bound itself in a web of cotton. He slipped on a sandal and pressed the rat down on the floor with his foot. The monster shrieked and clawed, trying to free itself. He looked down at his head with hatred, deciding just how to kill it.

  Just as he was about to take its life, he remembered. “The filthy thing has shreds of the sacred Scriptures in its stomach,” Saul said aloud to himself. He paused. It must die, he thought, but still he couldn’t crush it, thinking of the precious scroll. “What a horrible visitation upon me,” he whispered, standing on one foot and holding the rat down with the other. “What, O Lord, is the meaning of this?” he moaned.“I spend all my waking hours on your holy Word, and a messenger of Satan, a . . . a veritable demon of hell steals in while I sleep.”

  He stood thinking for a long time, then finally reached down and put his thumb and fingers firmly behind the rat’s head. He picked it up and broke it and its wrapping free from the rest of the mass. He opened the door and flung the live rat, tied just as it was, far out into the street. He didn’t watch to see if the rat escaped from its bo
ndage; he just closed the door and bolted it.

  The room was a shambles. First Saul picked up the scroll that had fallen to the floor and examined it in the light under the window. It was the book of the prophet Isaiah. Unrolling its two rollers, he discovered that there was a bend and a small rip in the parchment where his sandal had hit it. I could have it repaired by a Torah scribe, he thought. He had copied the scrolls himself years ago, writing with a stylus on parchment. The ink he had made by mixing cypress with lamp black. If he had only remembered to use oil of wormwood in the ink mixture, the bitterness would have discouraged rodents and insects from eating the scrolls.

  He examined the other damaged scroll carefully and saw that the rodent had indeed eaten a part of it. He opened up the scroll of Chronicles and laid it across the table. Even though some of the text was missing, Saul knew the passage well. The words were a thousand years old—God’s promise to Solomon—“If my people which are called by my name shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

  God made these promises to Israel during the Feast of Tabernacles at the dedication of the Temple Solomon had built, the first great Temple that had stood where the greater Temple now stood. Accompanying these promises was a warning: “If you observe my statutes and my judgments, I will establish the throne of your kingdom . . . But if you turn away . . . and serve other gods . . .”

  The rat had done more damage than he thought as he unrolled the scroll further, gently pushing the parchment across the table. “This house which I have sanctified for my name will I cast out of my sight. And it will be a proverb and a byword among all nations . . . Because they have forsaken the Lord God of their fathers, which brought them forth out of the land of Egypt . . .”