Tempting Christ

Battle Plans

The next time Jesus went off to pray in the wilderness, I followed him. He found a place beneath an olive tree to sit. It was near dawn and the sun glinted off a field of distant flowers.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

I stood by, waiting patiently like a soldier ready to take orders from his commander.

Sometimes Jesus used his powers and knew where I was, what I was doing, possibly even what I was thinking. Other times, he seemed as clueless as any mortal. I had a feeling, though, that this time he knew. I can't say what made me think that.

When he let out his breath he opened his eyes and his smile faded slightly. "What is it, Darius?"

"Sir," I said. "You're sure about this plan of suffering and dying?"

He nodded.

"Maybe you want to plan how we do this? Because my experience, the better something is planned, the less likely it is to happen."

He laughed.

"Sure. Fine. I need to decide where, Darius. Where are the people who hate me so much they want me dead?"

I stared at him.

"You don't know that?"

"For now, I'm trying to limit myself to human knowledge as much as I possibly can."

A little darkness boiled out of me. "But why? I mean--never mind. I don't need to know. Your answer, I should think, is obvious. Jerusalem."

He turned to me with a pained expression, as if he hadn't expected that answer.

"But I--when I was young, about twelve years old, we went to Jerusalem for the Passover. I stayed behind and talked with the elders there. We had a rapport. I thought a few of them would remember me well. Caiphas was one of them. Surely, he doesn't want me dead."

It felt oddly ridiculous to me, standing here in the wilderness, talking to the Son of God, explaining the most obvious things.

"Him more than anyone else." I paused. "Even when you were a kid, he was jealous of you. Little Jesus was just twelve, and already he could out think one of the wisest men in Israel."

He bowed his head. For a few seconds, I thought I was being dismissed. I hoped not.

"I'm a fool," he said.

Should I contradict him? I decided it probably wasn't in my best interest.

"O Jerusalem my Jerusalem. How did I not see? You are the city that kills the prophets and stones the messengers. How often I have wanted to gather you together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but even now you wouldn't let me."

His voice was practically a chant. There was a weariness to it, and a strange sort of power.

I took a step back, not sure what was happening.

"The plan, as I have it worked out, is that you enter the city. The teachers of the law figure out some way to trick you into saying something they think is blasphemous, then they will go to Pilate to have you put to death."

He nodded.

"The key to my plan is Judas. I'm going to convince him to turn on you."

Jesus laughed. I could tell he didn't believe me.

How could he possibly be this naive?

"Surely you've noticed he's one of ours, haven't you?"

Jesus gave me a sidelong frown.

"He thinks you should save all the poor. He argued that Ahirat shouldn't pour the perfume on your feet. He always argues with you when you tell him to buy cake with the group's money. This is the argument of demonkind--that you and your Father should not allow suffering and death in the world."

On hearing this, Jesus put his face in his hands.

Softly, I said, "I'm sort of hoping that when you do experience these things you'll finally see that we're right. To be honest, this plan of yours is like a dream come true. If this doesn't convince you, nothing will."

Still he said nothing. He just sat there, not looking at the beautiful scenery he'd come out here for.

"Anyway, whether you want to go through with this or if you want to change your mind, just give me the word. What you did for Mikal means everything to me. I want to repay you."

"There are things I will want of you before the end, my friend. For now, let us not plan anything more. I need to pray."

I nodded and started to drift away.

"Wait," he said. "Before you go, your eye needs healing."

"No. Cassia is the one in need of healing. I'd rather share this torment if only--if only sympathetically."

"Cassia," he said. "Why do I know that name?"

"Sir?"

"It was one of the names that--that I--" here he paused. "She's on the Dark Stair, isn't she?"

Now Jesus gazed over the flowering fields. "She won't be there much longer. There is something I will need her to do."

I bit back a laugh. Cassia? Help him? The man didn't even see that Jerusalem wanted him dead or that Judas was the one who'd betray him. He'd not shown himself to be an especially great judge of character.

Still, I took some comfort in his words. If anyone could rescue Cassia from the Dark Stair, it was the Son of God.