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Jesus and Judith
Jesus and Judith, A Love Story
By Elizabeth Sciarratta
Her back ached when she bore such a load. Judith stopped and let her cumbersome clay urn fall to the ground, stopping it short with a violent tug at the very last second. She wiped her sticky forehead with the corner of her shawl. The soft tinkle of the golden coins that adorned its edges teased her ears. She never tired of their whimsical tune.
"Sister, hurry! We shall be late," said Aysha, already ten paces ahead. Her sandaled feet kicked up dust on the road to the well. Judith sighed and muttered a curse, knowing the urn would only be heavier on the way back. She replaced the vessel on her shoulder.
Cold water ran down her arms as she filled her pot with a leather bag from the well. She didn't bother to dry herself. It felt good to be wet in the parched heat of the midday sun. There was still a little water in the bottom of the bag. Judith splashed her face and flicked a few drops on Aysha.
"Stop," Aysha said, picking up her urn.
"Why must you always be so serious?" Judith laughed.
Her sister turned too her with narrow piercing eyes. "And why must you always be so foolish?"
Judith hung her head as her smile vanished. Her sister's words cut straight to her gut where they lay burning. She sighed and heaved her urn up to her shoulder. She had taken three steps when a large group of men turned the corner and approached her.
They headed to the well, talking and laughing loudly. Judith lowered her face and leapt out of their way as they brushed past her.
A sort of spell always came over Judith in the presence of men. She ignored her sister's order to come along. She put down her jug and watched them. They were all ruddy and handsome. They were not from her town of Bethany, she could tell by their accents. They sounded like they were from Galilee.
They took turns dipping into the well, drinking, washing and splashing each other. Two men wrestled as the others laughed. One man stood to the side, not taking part in the roughhousing. He smiled and shook his head. Gracefully, he went to the well and took the cup. Pausing, he glanced upward quickly before dipping into the water.
Savoring his drink, he wiped his beard with the back of his hand. He put the cup down and moved to a wall across from the well. The men gradually stopped what they were doing and followed him. He sat on the wall and they sat in front of him, as students gather before their teacher.
They sat still, looking up to him with expectant devotion. He surveyed them lovingly, as a father looks at his brood. His gaze drifted to her, standing a ways away. She gasped as he stared at her for several moments. His dark eyes riveted her to her spot, although she felt like running away. A sweat broke out between her breasts and she trembled. In that one look, he had seen her whole life. Every act. Every man.
Awash in shame, she stooped to her urn, picked it up and slunk away. She had not moved ten paces when he called to her.
"Sister! Why do you leave? I need a drink." His voice penetrated to her soul, rich and beautiful like the cantors in the temple.
She froze as all turned to her. A woman standing near her spoke. "The Master needs a drink, whore. You must give it to him." Judith paled, almost dropping the urn. This was the one everybody spoke of. The one who raised Lazarus from the dead. Indeed, Lazarus had come to join the crowd gathering at his feet.
An eternity seemed to pass as the eyes of every single person trained on her. Her neck went scarlet as she dipped into the cistern with a cup handed to her by one of the crowd. Shaking off her sense of dissociation, she carried the cup to him. Barely disguised whispers filled her ears.
"Who does she think she is?"
"He must not know who she is."
She reached him and gave him the cup. He drank, watching her over the rim. The whispers continued, mounting in volume. A group of Pharisees approached, watching the situation with interest.
"You are most kind, sister. What is your name?"
"Judith," she whispered, not daring to look at him. She snatched the cup but he grabbed her hand. She hung her head as tears formed in her eyes.
"How can you take water from her? She is a sinner," called one of the Pharisees. The others wrinkled their noses and spat on the ground.
He turned to them. "And what is her sin?"
"She takes favors from men and she is not married."
Crimson loomed up her face and tears fell freely from her stinging eyes. Why didn't they just stone her and get it over with? Surely he would turn her over to them.
Warmth from his grip on her wrist radiated up her arm. It trickled into her veins, spreading through her.
"She is a sinner, yet she has done me a great kindness. So what is the state of her heart? Her father in heaven knows, as do I." He released her as he reproached the Pharisees, who sputtered among themselves. Then he turned to her, raising her chin with his hand.
"Have you sinned, sister?"
"Yes, Master."
"Are you sorry?"
"Yes, Master." He removed his hand from her chin and placed it on her head.
"Then go in peace. You are forgiven." He smiled at her with the kindness of a father, cupping her cheek before dropping his hand. Her body filled with delicious warmth such as she had never felt. Her soul lightened and she wanted to dance for joy.
She turned to the crowd and her lightness evaporated. Rows of dark eyes narrowed and bore into her. Mouths contorted in rage, just as her father's had so many times. Nausea swept over her as she hurried away, clutching her veil around her face. The Pharisees blocked her path.
"Do not celebrate, whore. Your sins are not forgotten." His long, white beard trembled as he glared down his considerable nose at her. He held a stone in his left hand. A quick glance showed all the Pharisees held one, some two.
"You may have escaped today, but not forever." His voice was a low growl, like a cougar ready to pounce. The others stared at her and shook their heads. They parted and she scuttled away, taking shelter behind a sycamore bush. The Master continued to address them.
"You may drop your stones now," he said. "You will not have your vengeance today."
The Pharisees turned as a group, dropping their stones. "It is not our own vengeance we seek, but that of God," one said.
"Yes. But it would be better for you to look at your own hearts instead of the actions of others." His mouth turned upward as he taunted them.
"She deserves to be punished!"
"If that is true, God will punish her as He sees fit. Perhaps she is already being punished. You do not know what happens within her soul."
The crowd watched them spar, their heads moving back and forth, eyes wide, mouths agape. He spoke with authority to these high men, defending her. Her! Nobody had ever defended her. The warmth returned and she wondered what it meant.
"Do you mean to say that we should not punish sinners? Why do we have laws? Why did God give Moses the Ten Commandments, then?" The group turned arrogantly to one another, shaking their heads and snickering.
He paused, scratching his ebony beard. "God gave Moses the Ten Commandments, but the most important one is this: You shall love the Lord God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind. If all followed that one commandment, there would be no need for the others." His rich voice was even, with no hostility.
"Explain yourself!" the Pharisee shouted.
The Master simply smiled. "I have no need, for my Father in heaven knows of what I speak. If you do not understand, it because your heart is stony. You are so full of hate there is not room for God's love nor any other."
"I have not come to call the righteous. I have come to call sinners. Look around you! Who do you see? Tax collectors and prostitutes. These are the ones whose hearts are open to me, not yours!"
The crowd began to shout, rising to their feet, led by a few of the Master's men. Their ovation grew louder, as the Pharisees tried to shout them down. Looking about them in fear, they huddled together.
"He must die!" she heard them vow as they retreated.
The noise died down and the Master began to address the crowd again. Realizing much time had passed, Judith grabbed her pot and ran for home. Her father would be angry. He was always angry with her.
Arriving home, she crept to the rear entrance of her father's house. Pushing aside the leather door covering, her nose filled with the familiar scent of stale wine. Perhaps Father would already be asleep by now. She stowed the urn quietly. Sighing relief that she got in safely, she turned.
He filled the entrance to the room. Bile rose in her throat as she smelled him. His eyes were full of rage, a leather strap in his left hand.
"You are late, whore." His breath fanned hot on her pale face.
"Forgive me, Father. I was delayed at the well…"
"Aysha said there was a group of men…"
How very like her to betray me. "Yes, Father there was…"
The strap came up.
"But Father, it was the Master! I wanted to hear him!"
"You lie, whore!" The strap came down.
An excruciating sting replaced the warmth where the Master had touched her.
"Father, Please! You must believe me!" she cried, in a pathetic attempt to postpone the inevitable. Later Father would come to her, which was worse than the strap ever could be.
#
Judith lay on her bed, aching from head to toe. Bitter tears formed behind her eyes but refused to fall. They used to, but now it wasn't worth the energy. Nothing ever changed.
Yet something had. Today. The Master defended her. He touched her gently. He looked at her with kindness. It had been so long since she'd looked into a pair of kind eyes. Since Mother died. The feeling when he touched her was like none ever before. The warmth. Usually a man's touch made her blood run cold. Yet, all the men said she was hot. They all talked about her, because they'd all had her. All you have to do is tell Judith you love her and she's yours. Some of them gave her gifts, which was nice. Some of them were married. Which didn't make her too popular with the women in town. And Bethany was a very small town.
She thought again of the Master. He was so handsome and his voice was so beautiful. Why was he so kind to her? Maybe he loved her! She was prettier than Mary or Martha, the sisters of Lazarus who always hung on him. Maybe he wanted her.
Her heart began to race. He must want her. What else could it be? She sat up, wincing at the pain in her back and sides. She rolled off the bed and went to the corner. Pulling a rug away, she exposed a hole in the earthen floor. She retrieved an alabaster jar. Holding it to her nose, she breathed deeply. The sharp scent of myrrh cleared her aching head. She dug to the bottom and pulled out a fine silk veil. She ripped off her headpiece and placed it on her head.
She crept to the entrance to Father's room. He snored loudly. He had finished the jug of wine. He would be asleep for the night. She crept to the rear door of the house and stole out into the street. She knew the way to the home of Lazarus. She had snuck out to go to him a few times. Maybe Mary or Martha would know where to find the Master.
She approached Lazarus's house to the sound of laughter and talking. There were many people there. She stopped in front of the door, catching her breath. Gathering all her courage, she pushed it aside.
The room was dim and smelled of food and wine. Men reclined at a low table, while two women served them, Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus. At first she didn't see him. Then he leaned forward to take his cup of wine. The warmth began immediately in her stomach and spread as she approached him. In the middle of his sip, he saw her. A smile formed around the rim of the metal cup. Diamonds formed in the center of his ebony eyes. He put his drink down as she reached him.
Wordlessly, she knelt behind him. The talking stopped. All eyes were on them. Hands shaking, she pulled the cork out of the alabaster bottle. The pungent spicy scent of her perfume filled the air in the room. She poured a small amount on his head. Placing the bottle on the table, she began to work her hands through his hair.
His eyes closed as he enjoyed her ministrations. Leaning into her, he sighed deeply. The lines around his eyes disappeared as his face relaxed. Warmth filled her body as he responded to her.
The man next to them grabbed the bottle. Examining it, he snorted in disgust. "This is expensive perfume. Why was it wasted? We could have sold it for three hundred pieces of silver and given the money to the poor." Others around the table agreed and arguments broke out.
Awash in shame, Judith hung her head. Hot salty tears stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks. They stained her lovely green silk veil. She turned to leave but Jesus grabbed her wrist in the same spot he had touched before.
"Silence you lot!" He cried over the din. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the astonished men around the table. "Why do you bother her? Did she not endure enough from the Pharisees? She has done a great thing for me. For the second time today."
"Do not seek to chastise her in the name of the poor. You will have the poor with you always. You will not always have me. I assure you wherever this gospel is preached all over the world, what she has done will be told in memory of her."
"She is preparing my body for burial," he said. "The time is coming soon for the Son of Man to fulfill his promise."
He must die. Judith recalled the Pharisees words from earlier.
Low grumbling began and swept around the table. Judith raised her head from her chest for a second and caught Lazarus's angry gaze. She sprang to her feet and ran from the room. Outside, she gulped in as much air as she could. She collapsed against the house as her knees gave way. Hugging herself, she sobbed pathetically.
A warm gentle touch on her shoulder made her raise her head. His eyes were deep brown, almost black. Rather close set, separated by a fine nose. Black curls framed his face. Brown-black hair graced his chin and lips. He still smelled of the perfume she had anointed him with. He placed his hand on her cheek. The sweetest warmth flushed her face.
"Judith, do not let them shame you."
"But Master…"
He placed a soft finger to her lip. "Judith. Do you believe in me?"
"Yes, Master."
"Then you have been reborn. Your past is gone."
She wiped her eyes with the corner of her veil. "How can a person be reborn? I do not understand."
"You do not need to understand. Just believe."
They were crouched beside one another, side by side. The night air was dewy and aromatic. Stars twinkled in the inky black sky. Jesus sighed and settled down, crossing his legs. Judith looked at him briefly and turned away. Her hand rested on the ground next to her and he took it in his, caressing it gently.
His touch made her shiver, but not with fear, as was typical. It filled her with joy. She turned to him. He smiled at her.
"Why did you call to me today? And why did you defend me to the Pharisees?" she said, watching him touch her. He was so gentle, yet there was a purpose to him which eluded her.
"I called you for water because I was thirsty. You thirst as well, but all you have tried has failed to satisfy you. I defended you because you deserved it."
"I deserve to be defended? Not according to my father." She laughed bitterly.
"Your Father in heaven knows everything of you, and it is in his name that I defend you. Your earthly father is human. What he says of you is not as important as what God says of you."
"And what does God say of me?"
He raised her hand to his lips. "That you are beautiful and perfect." He kissed her hand.
Stunned, she pulled her hand away and jumped up. "I must go home now. Goodnight, Master."
"Call me Jesus. That is my name."
"Goodnight, Jesus."
"Goodnight, sister." He watched her walk away.
Lazarus emerged from the door as she departed. He spat. "Why do you waste time on her when I have two virgin sisters to choose from?"
Jesus whirled to him, his black eyes glittering with rage. "You hypocrite! It is because of you that she is no longer a virgin."
Lazarus's mouth dropped open. "Did she tell you that?"
Jesus rolled his eyes. "Do you think I need to be told of her? I already know everything about her. And I know you have laid with her."
"Master, it was not only I."
"I care not for the others. They do not follow me. And if others sin, does that excuse you?" Jesus pointed a finger into his chest.
Lazarus stood dumbly, searching for a reply. "But she offered herself to me."
Jesus gritted his teeth, as the finger in his chest became two hands. Lazarus staggered to the ground from the fierce shove of his best friend. "Ignorant fool! Did I raise you from the dead for nothing? If a man offers you stolen goods do you accept them? Of course not. Because that would make you guilty as well. You are as guilty as she, yet you place yourself above her. Get out of my sight!"
Lazarus struggled to his feet. "Master," he said raggedly.
"Go!" Jesus turned from him, waving him away.
#
Judith slowed as she approached the corner of her father's house. Stopping at the entrance, she listened for signs of activity within. All was quiet. She entered and crept to the bedroom. Aysha was not there, either. She lay down.
"Get up, whore!" A snarling shout stopped her heart. It was Father, holding the strap. Ashya stood next to him, arms folded, her face contorted with an expression of mixed contempt and anticipation. Judith was about to get what she had coming.
He wrenched her up, almost pulling her arm from its socket. Before she could speak, the back of his hand sent her reeling into the wall behind her. She tried to get away, but he grabbed her clothing, tearing it off her shoulder.
"Father, please stop! I did nothing!" she pleaded. He answered with another backhanded blow, shattering her lip. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face to his. She gagged at the smell of his breath, laden with rotten wine and garlic. White spittle formed at the corner of his mouth.
"You lie, whore. You were with him, weren't you?" he panted in her face, looking at her torn clothes with a combination of desire and rage.
"I only talked to him, Father. I swear to you," she sobbed. "Aysha, please help me!"
Aysha stared at her in their father's grasp like a rag doll, helpless and pathetic. For a moment her face was unreadable. Judith's heart stopped as her sister's nose wrinkled and turned to a smug smile. As her sister left she realized with sickening certainty that Aysha had awoken Father.
The blows that followed to her face, her back, her stomach and head all felt the same. She curled like an armadillo into a little ball as Father ranted, raved, kicked and hit. He finished by yanking her to her feet, dragging her to the door and throwing her out into the street.
"Never darken this door again, whore. You are as one dead to me!"
She gasped for breath. At least the hitting had stopped. She coughed, crying out in pain, a small stream of blood trickled from the side of her mouth. The world spun. Perhaps this time she would just die.
Suddenly she was being lifted by strong arms, and clasped firmly against a hard chest. A familiar scent filled her nose, but she could not open her eyes. She only knew it wasn't Father. She had the sensation of movement. Maybe it was her head. No, she was moving, being carried somewhere. Soon she was indoors again. Was she home?
"Oh my God! What happened to her?" cried out a female voice. "Put her over here."
She was laid down on something soft. Blurred faces filled the slits she could see through. Gentle female hands patted her wounds and bound her head. People spoke over her.
"She was in the street. I knew harm had come to her," said a rich, beautiful voice. The Master. Did he save her? Why? Didn't he know her? Father knew. Why were these loving hands on her? Didn't they know?
"Stop," she cried. "Stop! Leave me alone! I want to die!"
"Shush, don't talk like that," said Mary.
"Please, just leave me alone. I am nothing! I must die!" she cried. Tears ran into her mouth, mixing salt with the metallic taste of her blood. Strong, steady hands cupped her face and placed her head on something soft and warm, a lap.
"You are safe, sister. Do not fear. He will not harm you again." His hands smoothed her tangled, matted hair. "Rest now."
"I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing…" she sobbed softly.
"Shush, my love. Rest," he said. The warmth started where his hands stroked her hair. He hummed a Hebrew lullaby, one she hadn't heard since her mother died. She closed her eyes as his warmth enveloped her.
Judith awoke to a room full of sunshine. Jesus lay next to her, his arm around her protectively. She tried to rise and pain split her head. Unable to stop, she cried out. Instantly Jesus sprang up. In a moment Mary, Martha and Lazarus were there, too.
"Judith, where does it hurt?" Jesus asked, stroking her forehead like a mother. His eyes were beautiful and peaceful, like the doves in the temple.
"All over," she whispered. She held up her arm and saw it was covered with blue, red and purple splotches. The other was, too. Blood stained the front of her dress and veil.
Martha brought her water. Judith tried to hold the metal cup but was shaking too hard. Jesus took the cup and held it to her lips. "Drink," he commanded softly. Mary brought bread and honey. Jesus dipped the bread and held it to her mouth. "Eat."
Judith ate and drank and lay down again. As she drifted off, she could hear them speaking.
"It is lucky you found her," said Mary.
"Yes, she was near death, " said Jesus.
Later Judith awoke, feeling somewhat better. Mary saw her and ran to her side. She crouched down and looked into her face.
"Judith. You are awake. Are you better?"
"Yes, Mary. I am better." She looked down at her torn, blood spattered clothing. Tears formed in her eyes and spilled out over her cheeks. Mary pulled her to her breast.
"You need not fear your Father any longer. You may stay here with me and my sister and brother. We will be your family." Mary stroked her hair and patted her cheek with her veil. Unable to speak, Judith wept tears of joy and relief.
Jesus and Lazarus entered the house. Seeing Judith and Mary, he smiled widely. "See Lazarus! Your sister has heard my words."
He knelt and looked Mary in the eye. "Your Father in heaven sees your charity. You will be rewarded." He turned to Judith. "How are you, my little one?"
"I am better, Master. Thank you. I would be dead if you hadn't found me."
"Yes. But it was not your time. Your Father in Heaven has plans for you."
"What could God possibly have planned for me?" she laughed humorlessly.
Jesus laughed, his eyes sparkling. "That is for him to know. You must find out."
He held out his hand to her and she grasped it. He raised her up, removed his cloak and placed it around her shoulders. They walked outside in the night. "Do you know the story of Judith?" he said.
"I know she was brave and beautiful." He continued to hold her hand and the now familiar warmth radiated up her arm.
"Judith saved the Israelites from King Nebuchadnezzar's wrath. She used her beauty to beguile his general and she beheaded him. She prayed for God to give her the strength to carry out her task and it was given her."
They stopped and he pulled her to him. "Your beauty beguiles me, but I pray you do not cut off my head." He smiled.
Her eyes widened. "Master, I would never cut off your head." He held her close against him, his arms about her waist. He smelled of myrrh and cinnamon.
She looked into his bronzed face. "Do you love me?"
He smiled again and sighed. "When I saw you at the well with your urn, I knew how David felt when he saw Bathsheba bathing. Yes. I loved you in that moment."
Her heart leapt. "Will you then marry me?"
His eyes clouded. "I cannot, Judith." His arms dropped from around her, leaving her breathless and grieving. He turned from her.
"Is it because I am not a virgin? My father told me no man would ever want me for his wife because of that." She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling his cloak tighter to her shoulders.
He turned to her, reaching out and drawing her to him again. "In your heart, you are as pure as the snow on a mountain. That is not the reason. The time is coming soon when I will no longer be with you. To marry you and leave you a widow would be wrong."
Judith pressed her face into his chest and wept, savoring the feeling of security in a man's arms. He stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head and placing his cheek against it. "I am sorry, Judith."
She looked up at him with a radiant smile. "I do not weep for sadness. I weep for joy. No man has ever told me he loved me and meant it. I thought I would never hear those words, that I was not worthy of them. In a single day you have saved my life and mended my heart. Why should I be sad?" She slid her arms around his slender waist.
He smiled into her face, cupping her cheeks with his hands. He lifted her chin, tracing her lips with his thumb. "Like a lily among my thorns is my love among women," he whispered as he kissed her.
Her shattered lip was healed at once. Judith closed her eyes as delicious warmth spread through her body. With all her experience, she had never been kissed in true love. The feeling was incomparable. A white light seemed to shine from him, seeping into her soul, transfiguring her. They seemed to rise from the earth together.
She tensed, waiting for his hands to start wandering, groping as men's hands always did when they touched her. It never happened. Their kiss ended with his hands still on her cheeks. A feeling of tremendous intensity rushed into her.
"Jesus, I love you," she said breathlessly.
"And I, you. Never forget that, no matter what happens. I will always be with you. Come. Let us go back to the house."
He took her hand and they returned to Lazarus's house. Judith joined Mary and Martha in making the meal. While Mary was friendly, Martha was cold and punitive. She barked orders to them, looking askance at Judith every chance she had.
"Perhaps I should leave," Judith whispered to Mary.
"You will stay right where you are." Mary whispered back vehemently. "Martha is jealous of the time you spend with Jesus. She wants him to marry me, but I can see that he loves you."
"You can see that?" Judith blushed.
Mary smiled. "It is very plain in the way he looks at you and in the way he protected you from the Pharisees. You are very lucky. Many women want to be the wife of the Master."
"I don't know why he loves me. I have done wrong."
Mary touched her hand. "That is why he is so wonderful. He sees the good in people's hearts. He is so different from the other rabbis. They say he is the Messiah."
"The Messiah? What have I done to deserve the love of the Messiah?"
"It is not what you do that he loves. It is who you are, Judith. And you are very special."
She hung her head. "No I am not."
Mary turned her face to hers. "You have endured more suffering than any person should, yet your heart is still good. You are beautiful and brave. Do not forget that."
Dinner was ready and they brought it to the men. Jesus taught before and during the meal. The house filled with people anxious to hear his words. Every so often, he would gaze at Judith, giving her a look that made her heart melt.
At the end of the night, they cleared the table as the men drank wine. "Tomorrow we will go to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover," Jesus said.
"Why Jerusalem, Master?" said Lazarus. "You are welcome to remain here."
"I must go to do my Father's bidding," he said. With that, he rose from the table and went to his bed, leaving the rest troubled and confused.
#
Mary, Martha and Judith rose early to gather provisions for the trip. Jerusalem was half a day's walk. Men lay sprawled around the dusky room. Judith saw the Jesus sleeping next to Lazarus under a window. He was curled into a ball, keeping warm in the morning chill. His long lashes swept his high cheekbones as he slumbered. How peaceful he looked. Like a child.
She crept closer to him. An errant ray of rising sun illuminated his face. He was truly beautiful, like the book spoke of David, handsome with sparkling eyes. She bent to him and gently kissed his hair. He still smelled of myrrh. He smiled but did not open his eyes. The sound of movement and low voices drew her away from him, and she joined Mary and Martha.
"We will have to buy food for the Passover in the city," Martha said, looking over their meager cache. "Do any of you have money?" She spoke to the roomful of people, waking and rising.
Jesus came up to her laughing. "Martha, Martha. Why do you worry so? All will be provided for." She scowled and waved him away.
They departed midmorning. Jesus and his followers in front, the women in back. The sun shone in a brilliant cyan sky. Birds flew overhead, singing praises of all that is good. Judith's heart pounded with exhilaration as she tagged along, almost skipping next to Martha and Mary like a little girl. All her pain was gone.
Mary looked at her and smiled. "You have changed, sister. You are much happier than when you first came to us."
Judith blushed. "I have never felt so happy in my life. I am grateful to you and your sister for taking me in."
Martha observed her with a hard face. "Who beat you?"
Judith shifted her pack from one shoulder to the other. "My father, Joakim."
Martha's brow wrinkled. "Did he not used to be a member of the High Council?"
"Yes, he was. After my mother died, he started drinking wine all day and night. He would get very angry with me, no matter what I did."
Martha's face softened. "Did he hit you often?"
Judith stared at the road passing under her feet. "Nearly every day. He always seemed to feel bad afterwards and come to me, but then…" Nausea swept her as her words petered out.
Martha's eyes widened. "What?"
Judith finished her sentence barely above a whisper. "He laid with me, like I was his wife. If I resisted, he beat me more."
Martha stopped, dropped her pack and grabbed Judith, holding her so close she could barely breath. "That dog! May he be more cursed than Job! You shall never return to his house, Judith. From this day on, you are my sister."
They held each other, weeping. Mary joined them and they cried together.
Suddenly, Jesus was with them. "Why do you cry, women?" Although he knew.
Martha turned to him. "We cry for Judith and all she has suffered. Her father should be whipped and thrown to the lions!"
Although he had only two hands, he seemed to touch all three at once. "You must forgive him."
"Forgive?" Martha cried. "And ignore all he has done?"
Jesus began to walk and the women followed him. He was silent for quite a while, pondering. He stroked his fine beard. "To forgive does not mean a sinner has not sinned. It means you release your hatred toward him. If you forgive, your father in heaven will forgive you when you do wrong."
"Vengeance is a sickness in the soul. It will cause you to sin, and that will keep you from the kingdom of heaven. Vengeance only begets more vengeance. Peace is the way to find God."
Then he was silent. The women were astonished by his words and said no more. Mary and Martha stayed close to Judith from that moment on.
They stopped at noon to eat in a grove of olive trees. Jesus sat under it, surrounded by the twelve men. The women sat a small distance away. Jesus gave thanks for the food they were to eat and passed it around. It was a simple meal of bread, water and dried dates. Two strangers joined the group and Jesus welcomed them.
"Many in Jerusalem know you are coming, Teacher," one said. "They are very excited."
"Yes," said the other. "The city is alive, like a great festival."
Jesus listened intently and was silent for a moment. His smile faded. "By the end of this week, there will be weeping and wailing in Jerusalem."
All the chatter ceased. The man Peter sitting beside him turned quickly. "Master, what are you talking about?"
"We are going to Jerusalem where the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes. They will condemn him to death and hand him over to the Gentiles who will make fun of him, spit on him, whip him and kill him, but three days later he will rise to life."
Silence filled the grove of olive trees. All stared at him, mouths gaping. "Master, surely you are wrong. The people love you now more than ever."
"Mark my words, that will all change." He finished his water and stood. "Let us go."
The group stood wordlessly, gathering up their belongings clumsily. The breeze through the leaves was punctuated by sighs and grunts as men heaved packs on their backs. Birds sang a dirge as they took to the dusty road to the city.
Slowly the mood lightened and talking began. Within minutes, all seemed normal. The men were talking, laughing and shouting to each other.
Jesus stopped and let them pass him, waiting for the women in the rear. His handsome face was crestfallen, his magnificent eyes wet with tears.
"Master, what is wrong?" Judith asked, running to him.
He fell into step with her, heaving a sigh. "Look at them," he said gesturing to the men ahead. "Not long ago, I told them how I would die this week. Now they argue over who is the greatest and James and John ask me for a special seat in Heaven." He shook his head in loving frustration.
"It seems they do not truly understand what I have been teaching. Have I failed?"
Judith spoke, not knowing where the words were coming from. "You have not failed, Jesus. What you have told them is too awful for them to believe. Is it really true?"
"Yes, my love, it is true."
He hadn't called her his love since the other day. His words filled her with indescribable joy. "Is that why you will not marry me?"
"Yes. If it were any other way, we would already be married." He looked at her with such intensity in his dark eyes, it gave her butterflies in her stomach. Before she could say any more, he left her and went to the front of the group.
As they grew closer to Jerusalem, their group grew in number. By the time they were a mile away, there were at least a hundred people. Some of the disciples had run ahead into the city to prepare the way, and a throng waited at the gates.
Jesus was far ahead of the women now. Judith watched in awe as people gathered around him, lifting him off the ground. They were shouting and reaching for him. Two men brought a colt and hoisted him up on it.
People were stripping off their cloaks and throwing them on the ground before him. They waved palm branches, singing and crying out.
"Praise to God!"
"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!"
His disciples formed a ring around him, dancing and singing. Jesus smiled and waved, but did not revel in their worship. He touched the outstretched hands of the growing throng. The noise was like a chariot race. Voices combined to form a thunder, which bore them through the gates of the city.
Once inside, their entourage was stopped by a group of Pharisees, one of which Judith recognized from Bethany. They leered at Jesus, atop the colt. "Command these people to be quiet, we are trying to pray!" He pointed toward a small temple across the street.
Jesus smiled widely, as he did when he taunted the Pharisees. "I cannot. Even if they were quiet, the stones in the street would shout for joy!" At this, the crowd cheered and pushed them out of the way. They scuttled to the side of the road and watched them pass.
As Judith passed, she caught the eye of the Pharisee from Bethany. He recognized her at once, staring at her with disbelief. He turned and said something she could not hear to the man next to him. They both stared at her with contempt. But that wasn't what frightened her. It was the look they gave Jesus. The look of death.
In that instant she knew what he said was true. He would die. But he loved her! Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces. How would she live without him? She had to find a way to try and stop it from happening. What could she do? Run away with him? Yes, that was it. She would get him to run away with her. Decision made, she joined in the wild festivities going on around her.
The celebration continued all day. The streets thronged with people, alive with music, noise and smoke of cooking food. Jesus took his place at the front of the temple. He taught and led prayers and songs. His disciples brought him many afflicted with demons and illnesses of all sorts. He laid hands on them and cured them. At times it seemed the line would never end, but he patiently saw every last one.
When night fell, a huge fire was made in the street. People brought drums, tambourines, flutes and other instruments. Music rang out. A group of women began to dance around the fire. Somebody grabbed Judith's hand and she joined in the ancient steps. A sense of belonging filled her heart to overflowing and she threw her head back and laughed. She opened her eyes to see Jesus staring at her, a wide smile on his beautiful face. She danced for a few minutes, eyes locked with his over the glowing fire.
A fire burned within Judith and she broke from the group and approached Jesus. He rose and took her hand. They walked a ways down the road to a walled garden. She pulled him through the gate and into her arms. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He wrapped his own arms around her and kissed her in return.
A strange feeling welled up inside her, starting in her middle and exploding to her whole body. She tangled her fingers in his silky hair, pressing herself against him.
"Lay with me, Jesus," she whispered, panting.
He closed his eyes as if fighting his urge. "No, Judith."
She began to run her hands all over him. He felt exquisite. "Please, Jesus. I need you to lay with me."
He pulled away from her a little. "No, Judith."
"Why not? Am I not beautiful enough? Don't you want me?" She ran her hands up his chest to his hair in desperation. He pulled them down and held them tightly.
"No, Judith. I will not. Do not offer yourself to me. It is wrong."
She pursed her lips like a child. "Why is it wrong? You love me."
"I am not your husband. It is wrong." His voice grew stern. "It is wrong for you to offer yourself to me or any man. I forgave you for your past, but you must not repeat it. Do you not understand?"
Tears filled her eyes. "But…you love me…you said."
His voice cracked in frustration. "I do love you. But when you offer your body you commit a grave sin. It doesn't matter the circumstances. Do not justify your sin with love." He dropped her hands, turned and left her in the garden, shuddering with shame.
Two days later was the feast of the Passover. Judith worked all day with Mary and Martha to prepare the meal for Jesus and his men. She sat cross-legged on the floor, chopping greens. She thought of Jesus. Since the night in the garden, she had not been alone with him. As each day passed, she grew more in love with him. After his stern words to her, he had only shown her kindness.
As if reading her mind, he appeared at her side. "Hello, my love." He reached into the bowl of greens and took a few. Gracefully he put them in his mouth, chewing them thoughtfully.
"How are you today, Jesus? Are you looking forward to the Passover? I am looking forward to hearing you read the prayers."
He smiled on her. "How very like a child you are, Judith. The kingdom of God belongs to those such as you. My heart is heavy this day. I will be gone very soon, and I wonder who will carry my gospel."
Judith put down her knife and covered his hand with hers. "I will. And the others will, too. But I cannot bear the thought of living without you." Tears clogged her throat and stung her eyes.
"At least you believe me. The others act as if I have said nothing." His dark eyes clouded.
"They cannot bear the thought of living without you, either. You are our leader, our inspiration. You mean everything to us. How can you leave us so soon?" Tears flowed over her lashes and down her cheeks.
He raised his hand to her face, wiping the tears with his thumb. His touch was so gentle, so loving. "All will be revealed in time. I was never meant to stay here. I was sent to deliver a message, and now I must return to my Father. I am sad to hurt you. I love you. But I must do what I came here to do."
She took his hand from her cheek and pressed it to her lips. His flesh was like the sweetest bread. He closed his eyes and sighed, as she kissed and held his hand to her face. Then he rose and kissed her head.
She did not see him again until it was time for the dinner. Jesus and his disciples came in and reclined around a large table in the center of an upstairs room in the house of one of his followers. Oil lamps burned, casting a melancholy light. The air smelled of roasted lamb and horseradish.
Jesus took his place at the center of the table. His eyes looked tired and dull, with dark circles underneath. Peter sat to his right and the man named Judas to his left. He looked around the room as if he would never see it again, his lovely eyes caressing the faces of every person there. Judith's heart stopped. It is tonight. What he spoke of.
Nobody else seemed to notice anything unusual about Jesus. They all laughed and talked as if it were any other Passover. She wanted to scream. You fools! He is leaving us! But she stayed in the corner with the other women.
Suddenly Jesus stood up. He went to the corner of the room and took a great bowl and towel, used for ritual washing. He nodded to a pitcher of water near Judith and she picked it up and brought it to him. She followed him over to Peter. Jesus knelt in front of him. He turned from the table in the middle of laughing.
"Take off your sandals," Jesus commanded softly.
His face went blank. "What are you doing, Lord?"
"I am washing your feet."
A rush of startled whispers began around the table. "No Lord! You will never wash my feet."
Jesus smiled at him. "If I do not wash your feet, you can no longer be my disciple."
Peter's eyes widened. He tore off his sandals. "Then wash my hands and head as well, Lord." All around the table laughed, as did Jesus.
"Those who have bathed are clean except for their feet." He nodded to Judith, who poured water from the heavy pitcher into the bowl. "All here are clean…except one." His glance riveted to Judas, who squirmed just enough for Judith to see.
Jesus knelt and took Peter's foot in his hand, rubbing it clean. Judith poured water on them to rinse. Jesus dried them with the towel. Speechless, Peter put his sandals back on. Without further comment, Jesus moved around the table, washing the feet of each of his twelve. He did not shrink from his dirty task, tending to all with a smile and gentle touch. Judith poured water from the ever-lightening pitcher.
When he came to Judas, the air between them thickened. He removed his sandals and Jesus washed his feet, but their eyes never left each other. She saw the faintest curl in Jesus' lip as he finished and she poured the water.
She put the empty pitcher in the bowl and took the towel from Jesus. His eyes held hers for a moment as he handed it to her.
"Thank you for your help, sister." He said softly.
She blushed. "You are welcome, Master."
Jesus put on his cloak and sat at the table. He looked around. "Do you know what I have just done?" Nobody answered. He smiled and shook his head.
"I have washed your feet, even though I am your Lord and Teacher. You then should wash each other's. No servant is greater than his master, and no messenger is greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know this truth, how happy you will be when you practice it."
The men at the table seemed troubled and confused, but his words flew straight to Judith's heart. How she loved him, this humble, holy man. It was as if there were wires from him to her. She was acutely aware of everything he said, every movement.
All ate in quiet for a few moments, then suddenly, Jesus dropped his bread. "I tell you the truth. One of you will betray me." His eyes blazed as he surveyed the room. Voices rose in protest.
"What are you saying, Lord?"
"Is it I, Lord?"
'Not me, Lord!"
Jesus took his bread, dipped it and handed it to Judas on his left. "Go and do what you must do," he whispered through gritted teeth. Judas dropped the bread, rose, and left the room in a hurry.
Jesus' gaze followed Judas to the door and lingered after he departed. His eyes filled with tears and his voice cracked with emotion. "I will not be with you much longer. You cannot go where I am going. And Now I give you a new commandment. Love one another as I have loved you. If you love each other, all will know you are my followers."
Peter turned to him. "Where are you going, Lord?" His lower lip trembled.
Jesus calmly took a sip of his wine. "You cannot follow me now, but you will follow me later."
Peter's voice got louder. "Why can I not follow you now? I would die for you!"
Jesus still held the goblet. Looking into it, he spoke softly. "Before the cock crows three times tonight, you will deny me."
"What?" Peter cried.
He spoke firmly, looking Peter squarely in the eye. "Before the cock crows three times tonight, you will deny me!"
The men around the table fell out, arguing and shouting at each other. Peter jumped up and shouted for quiet.
The poor fools, they are beside themselves. Judith watched the uproar from the corner with Mary and Martha.
"What is going on with the Master?" said Martha. "He has everyone all upset."
Mary glanced at the commotion across the room. "He says he is leaving soon, that we cannot go with him. Is he going away? Who will care for him?"
"He is going to die." Judith said.
"What?" Mary and Martha said together.
"He is going to die. Soon. Very Soon."
"What makes you say that?" Martha said, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"He said so on the road here. Do you not remember? He said the Pharisees would hand him over to be killed. I heard them say he must die in Bethany. I saw how they looked at him when he came here. They hate him and will stop at nothing to get rid of him."
The room grew quiet again. She looked over at the table and saw Jesus speaking. His face glowed with love. She crept behind a pillar to listen.
"This is my body," he said, holding up a piece of bread. He broke it, and as he tore it into pieces, he continued. "It is given for you. Do this in my memory." He passed the plate and each man took a piece.
He took his cup of wine. "This is my blood. It is God's new covenant sealed with my blood poured out for you. I tell you, I will not drink wine with you again until we are together in the Kingdom of God." He passed the cup to Peter who drank and passed it on until all had drunk.
As the last man drank, Jesus began a hymn of praise and they all joined in. The ancient melody floated up to the thatched ceiling, swirling like incense. It twisted around and around the same notes, the minor key mirroring the mournfulness of the singers. They finished and the room fell silent.
"Peter, John, James, will you come with me to pray?" Jesus stood.
"Of course, Lord." They all jumped up. Judith tried to catch his eye as he left, but couldn't. Glancing around her, she stole after them, following at a distance. They went to the same walled garden she and Jesus had been in the first night.
She watched as the men sat under a tree. Jesus left them and went to a grove a little ways away. He knelt and whispered into folded hands in fervent prayer. In a moment he was prostrate on the ground, weaving back and forth, in a kind of trance.
Unable to stop herself, Judith burst forth from the bushes. She ran to Jesus and knelt beside him. She touched him gently on the shoulder. "Jesus, what troubles you?"
He looked up at her. His face was covered with sweat and dirt. She took a corner of her veil and wiped his forehead, than gathered his head into her arms.
"I am going to suffer and die tonight, my love. I am frightened," he sobbed.
She held him against her breast and rocked him like a baby, soothing him. Again, words came to her. "It will be all right, my love. Soon you will be with your Father and there will be no pain. He will be with you while you suffer. Have courage. You are doing his will. All you endure will bring him glory." She pressed her lips to his hot forehead and tasted blood.
"I pray that I may be spared this cup," he cried against her breast.
"Shush, my love. You need not be afraid. God's love will shield you and the pain will bring him glory." She held him close, stroking his fragrant hair as his sobs wracked them both. Slowly he calmed himself. He turned and looked up at her.
"Judith, my love. I am at my weakest and you make me strong. I do so love you. I wish it could be different. That we could be married. That you could bear my sons."
She smiled down at him. "As you did for me, Lord. Nothing would please me more than to bear your sons. How handsome they would be. What would we name them?"
Her question seemed to distract and comfort him. He rolled out of her arms and stood, pulling her with him. "We would name them after all the prophets: Elijah, Elisha, Jeremiah, Jacob, Isaiah, Samuel…"
"That is a lot of sons, Lord," she smiled.
He wrapped his arms around her waist. "You have healed my heart, Judith. My father sent you as an angel to comfort me in my last days. The time is very near, let me kiss you and remember your love, for it will ease my pain." He pulled her close and bent to her. She sighed and raised her chin to meet his mouth.
His glorious lips covered hers in a kiss that took her out of her body. She was on a mountaintop with him, wearing the whitest of white garments. Moses and Elijah performed the marriage ceremony and they walked toward the wedding tent. He pulled open the rich fabric to let her in. The Song of Songs rang out.
My lover is mine and I am his.
He feeds his flock among the lilies
Until the morning breezes blow
And the darkness disappears.
Return, my darling, like a gazelle,
Like a stag on the mountains of Bether.
The door to the tent closed and she opened her eyes. She was once again in the garden with him. It was dark and cold. The sounds of an angry crowd approached on the other side of the grove. Jesus released her.
He held her hand to his lips. "You are wounded."
She looked at the cut on her hand. It must have happened when she went through the bushes. "Oh, I didn't even notice." The crowd drew nearer. The acrid smell of burning oil grew stronger by the second.
"They have come for me. Stay here where you cannot be seen. I love you, my angel." He kissed her hand as he parted from her. He stepped through the foliage and waited for the throng to approach him. They carried clubs and torches. Judas was at the front. She gasped as he approached Jesus and kissed him on the cheek.
She glanced quickly at her hand. The cut was gone. He had healed her.