I watched, waiting, hidden by the shadow of a sycamore tree. Watching, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Some of my brothers went down to see the Baptist, but I wanted to see the man he had baptized, the one that some said was the Messiah.

The Messiah. The anointed deliverer. The one who would set us free- free from domination. But what domination? Most Pharisees just looked at the verses that said that he would rule with a rod of iron...but I had seen more. I had looked in the scroll of Isaiah that spoke of a sacrifice that would make reconciliation, a man, not a lamb, for the forgiveness of the people. If this was the one, I had to see him before that prophecy was fulfilled and his blood was poured out.

He was teaching a small group of men in a low voice. His disciples. Every rabbi had them, but his choices were odd. A fisherman, and was that...my breath caught. A tax collector, still wearing his robes of office. How had they not killed each other? Yet they both sat quietly, intent on their rabbi's words. He was speaking of justice and forgiveness, of peace. Not something a Pharisee would teach, at least not often. Not even the Sadducees or the strange Essenes would teach such. Not that the Torah forbade it. I was one of the ones who thought more of forgiveness and peace, not justice and rule.

I crept forward and cleared my throat. "Excuse me," I said. "May I join your company?"

The rabbi's eyes lit up. "Of course, Nicodemus." he said. "But I think you wish to speak to me alone. Is that not so? Peter, John, Matthew, keep watch. I will return shortly."

It was what I wanted, but how had he known? Well, if he was the Messiah, he would be from God, as all the prophets were before him. In fact, it was to that I spoke.

"Teacher, we know you are from God, for no one could do the things you did unless God was with him."

I expected a respectful greeting in return, one rabbi to another. I did not expect this. "No one can see the Kingdom of God unless he is born again."

The Kingdom of God, I knew. All the prophets spoke of the coming Kingdom, when the Messiah would sit on David's throne. But what did he mean to be born again? I tried to puzzle out his words.

"Surely a man cannot go back into his mother's womb, can he?"

"That which is born of the Spirit is spirit, and that which is born of the flesh is flesh." I was beginning to understand a little of his meaning now. The difference between the spirit and flesh, the Greeks spoke often of. Of course, all humans were born of fleshly parents. My own children had been born of the love of my wife and I. So perhaps...a verse in Jeremiah came to mind. The new covenant, maybe, was of what he spoke?

"But how can these things be?" Even if my reasoning was correct, how could a man, no matter how anointed, do what only God could do? This Yeshua was not God himself. For him to claim that would be blasphemy. Perhaps, though, if he was truly a prophet, he could explain how this new teaching fit into all that had been said before.

His tone was chiding, but friendly. I relaxed a little. "You are a teacher of Israel, and you do not understand these things?"

"Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

Was he? No. No good Jew would ever make such a claim. The Son of Man...the one coming on the clouds of heaven. Yet it was a term applied to the Mesiah, or so some rabbis taught. I was not one of that number, for to call the Messiah the Son of Man was to make him equal with God. It could not be. I could not see how it was possible. And yet, I knew the Messiah had to die. Yeshua spoke of the Son of Man being lifted up. His next words astounded me to the core.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

Now he had left the truth. This had to be the ravings of a mind unhinged. But yet...but yet I felt strangely drawn. He had to be a prophet, to do such works as I had heard he had done. And a true prophet could not lie. I could not believe. It seemed impossible. Yet I almost felt I should.

181818

Division only grew sharper as time went on. As the influence of Yeshua spread, my party grew divided. Some, like me, wondered and questioned in secret. But most...most refused to believe. I had returned to Jerusalem, to sit in the seat of the Sanhedrin, for I was one of the Seventy, yet word of this Galilean reached me there.

I kept an eye out for any rumor, and so I heard he had been in the city during Sukkot, teaching that he was the living water. Did he have the right to make such a claim? Perhaps he did. I was still unconvinced, and the division he caused made me wary. Like all good Jews, I had seen my share of false Messiahs. All had met bad ends...but none of the pretenders had done miracles, either. I was torn as to what to believe.

The high priest sent the temple guards to bring him back, and I waited with anticipation, wondering what he might say before all the authority of the elders. Would he dare to make such claims before the High Priest? Or would he, like many, hold his tongue?

It was a surprise to see the temple guard return empty. These were hard men, soldiers used to doing as they were commanded while those in power kept their hands clean. When questioned, their answer was simple. "No man spoke as he does."

So they had listened, too, and fallen under the spell of this strange man. Or more than man, who could say anymore?

Gamaliel's response was sharp. As head of the Pharisees, he held great power. "Are you also deceived? This crowd who does not know the law is accursed." Of course, implied in that was that they were also blind. This I could not let go. Justice still had to be carried out, and this was an accusation without merit.

"Does our law judge a man before it hears him and knows what he is doing?" Of course, witnesses abounded for the miracles. There were some who had been healed in the city itself. To do good was the duty of any rabbi...and in his words I could find no wrong. For so long, I had tried to, unwilling to believe his cliams of blasphemy or worse. Yet I could no longer resist. I realized then I was defending the man. So be it.

Gamaliel turned to me. "Are you also from Galilee? Look and see, for no prophet has come out of Galilee." This I knew was simply untrue. Jonah and Elijah had both come from Galilee, or what was called Galilee now. It was then I realized something- my fellow elders were afraid. Afraid of the man, and maybe jealous as well, if they were willing to twist the truth to defend their own authority. I had been raised better, and taught better. The truth had to stand.

181818

Two years passed. I watched as Yeshua entered the city on a donkey, fulfilling prophecy. I watched as he debated my brothers, and silenced them. I took no part, for I was sure now that he was the Messiah. I merely listened, and took in Yeshua's wisdom. I knew it could not last. The city was like a pot left to boil, and he added yet more heat. Soon, the city would explode.

For a day, the day of Passover, I heard nothing of the man. I did not think I would. He spoke of the fulfillment of the law, and would not break the law himself by not observing Passover. He would obey the commandment, and his disciples with him. Where were they clebrating, I wondered? In the city, or with his friends in Bethany? I had heard about Lazarus.

I obeyed the feast myself with my wife and sons, and went to sleep. I woke up to pounding on my door. It was the messenger of the high priest. "You are summoned to the Council," he said. "We have taken the Nazarene."

I went at once. The night was quiet and still, but not my own spirit. Now, at last, he would face the full might of the Seventy. What would he say? In the Hall of Hewn Stones, I felt the tense atmosphere. Caiaphas sat on the judgment seat, while Annas stood by his side. The Pharisees sat on one side, the Sadducees the other. I found Joseph. He, too, believed Yeshua was the Messiah, and I felt the need for support.

"Bring him in," Caiaphas declared. When the soldiers brough Yeshua in, I gasped. He looked as though he was covered in blood. He stood, serene, though there was weariness in those dark eyes. Had he been treated roughly? No, for there were no marks or bruises I could see.

The high priest was merciless in his questioning, but Yeshua made no reply. It gave him dignity, but I was reminded of the Scriptures speaking of the lamb led to the slaughter. Silent, I watched as Caiaphas grew more and more angry.

"I abjure you by the Living God, are you the Messiah?" he all but shouted.

"You have said it," Yeshua said. "I tell you the truth, you will see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of God." In his mouth, what should be blasphemy sounded like the simple truth. I also knew no one else would see it so. Even Joseph was frowning.

I knew this was what the High Priest was waiting for. "Blasphemy! Do we need any other witnesses?"

"Crucify!" someone yelled, and the chant was taken up. I sat, trying to hold back the tears. So this was how it would be. No simple stoning, this, but a public spectacle, in which Rome would gain yet another lever. I held back my vote, as did Joseph, but it mattered little. The vote was passed, and Yeshua was led away.

The rest of the council broke up, but Joseph and I stayed, as well as a faithful servant. She came in to report that even his followers were denying him. I thought about it, too, as the day wore on, but then shook my head. I had come too far now, though I had done very little- but defend him in front of the entire Council.

"You may lose your position for this," Joseph muttered. "Caiaphas is in a dangerous mood."

"You also refused to crucify," I said. "If we are expelled, let us do so because we refused to kill an innocent man." It was right. It was just. Slowly, the sun rose and the day drew bright. The faithful servant continued to report. Pilate was seeing him now. Now I was glad that the rest of the Council was set on crucifixion, for Pilate had to pass it. He was a cruel man at times, but he wouldn't condemn someone seen as a simple madman by many.

He did! I could not believe someone who seemed so strong could be so weak when it counted. He did not have to give into the mob. And so...Yeshua was led away, bearing his cross. Still I waited. Joseph wanted to go back to his own family, but I couldn't, and I convinced him to wait as well. Suddenly, darkness fell, as black as the one that had fallen over Egypt. Were we being judged for this crime? But I had taken no part! It was not fair. Someone lit torches. Some of the other council members came back in, wanting word. I told them, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice. They looked sober and shaken, and we sat together, a little knot of men.

The darkness continued, pressing against the lamps and torches as though it was a living thing, a hungry, malevolent force, as though all our sins had taken physical form, a cup of dread. I had been a righteous man, for the most part, but I knew I was not perfect. I had been an angry man in my youth, and had said many things I now regretted.

Suddenly the sun returned, and I heard the echoes of a scream within my soul, a shout of triumph. The ground tilted, and I was thrown down. I soon found my feet, for the earthquake was short. Servants came running in, and I soon heard that the veil in the Temple had been ripped by a giant hand, from top to bottom. Worse, it seems that dead people walked the streets. Someone reported seeing David, apparently, for he had come from the tomb of the kings. Madness, all of it.

Soon more word came. The Nazarene was dead.

"I have a tomb," Joseph said, as though unsure of himself. "It is near the gate of the city, and...well, it will soon be the Sabbath. He cannot hang past sunset."

"Very well," I said, seeing sense in the madness, and a task to honor the one that had so moved both of us. "I will go to Pilate and ask for the body. Collect the spices. I will meet you at Golgotha."

Pilate was agreeable, strangely subdued. I wondered what Yeshua had said to him, but I was almost afraid to ask. I knew he regretted his decision, anyway, for the torment in his face.

Soon we were at Golgotha, and I looked at the center figure in horror. Yeshua barely looked human. It was clear he had suffered torment and scourging. And it had not been enough to nail him up. No, someone had pierced his side as well.

The centurion himself came. "At the end...I saw...he was the Son of God," he said. "I will remove your Messiah." Bringing a rough ladder, he climbed it with ease of long practice. Soon the nails were out, and we lowered him gently to the ground. I did my best to clean away the blood, and soon, the face and figure of Yeshua reemerged. I worked quickly, looking at the setting sun almost touching the treetops.

Joseph laid out the spices, and soon he was wrapped. The centurion told off soldiers to bear the body, and they did. Down the hill we went, to a small garden, Joseph leading. We were soon among sweet trees, whose aroma mingled with the myrrh and aloes we had wrapped with Yeshua. Women followed, one being Mary from the resemblance to her son. A disciple, a big, quiet man, held her protectively. The one named John, I imagined.

With respect, the soldiers laid Yeshua down. The stone was ready, and it rolled over the grave with finality. Now the Messiah was buried in the earth.

"What now?" Joseph asked when all were gone.

"Now...we go home," I said. "We have done what is right, and given him a proper burial. Let us not now break the law by breaking the Sabbath."

181818

I stood on the ship, shading my eyes against the sun's glare, my wife and children beside me. I was still astonished at all that had transpired in the last year. Of course, I had been removed from the Council, for word of my kind actions soon spread. Then had come news of Yeshua's resurrection and rising to heaven, and then the descent of the Power from on high. I had been in the crowd when Peter, the one who had denied his Master, preached his name. I had been one of the first bpatized. Some of the Council also followed me, and soon the new Way had turned all of Jerusalem upside down.

Then had come the persecutions. I left Jerusalem just after Peter's escape from prison. Slowly, we had been sailing west along the coast of Africa. First Alexandria, then along the coast toward Cyrene. Everywhere we went, I spoke of Yeshua. When I received news, I heard of another fellow, a personal student of Gamaliel, who was doing the same in Asia. Saul of Tarsus, I think his name was. I remembered him faintly as a bright young lad, and I was glad he also followed the Way. As for Joseph, he left when I did, but headed north. He wanted to speak to the German tribes, and perhaps go all the way to distant Britannia. I wished him well.

Now we were approaching Cyrene, and I grinned. Here was another place for the new gospel...one that had changed my life and had awoken me from my religious slumbers. As I felt the boat scrape land, I felt joy rise in me. Here could be my home until I went to Abraham's bosom.

A/N: I can see Nicodemus as a logical, thoughtful man, consdering the little we know of him from Scripture. His question to the Council also shows he was a man of truth.

Let us not underestimate what Nicodemus actually did. It looks like little, but the equivalent of him defending Yeshua would be like defending a white supremacist before the Supreme Court, for that was exactly what the Council was. His asking for the body was like going to the governor and asking for the body of someone labeled a criminal. Both brave acts, even if he was a "secret disciple."

Tradition has nothing for Nicodemus (not that I know, anyway), but if history is correct, Joseph did indeed go to Britain. Nicodemus would have met Saul, but very likely only in passing, as a student studying to be a rabbi.

I wanted to show the slow shift of Nicodemus's perspective as he thinks and ponders on all he hears of Yeshua. Like many, his faith did not come all at once, but slowly, over time. (That was my experience, too!)