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The Jericho Connection.

A short story of Good Friday by Dr. Ralph F. Wilson

Topics: Jesus, Lamb, Passover, Easter

If you were to ask each man and woman who joined in the death

watch that "Good" Friday, each could tell you of some personal

connection to Jesus. There's John the beloved disciple, with Mary,

Jesus' mother. Here are Lazarus and Mary and Martha, Jesus'

friends from Bethany. The woman taken in adultery is here, too, in

shock, and dozens of others. Each has a connection to the man

crucified on the center cross. Some remember a healing, others his

life-giving words by the shore of Galilee. Others recall a second

chance the Master extended to them. Each has a connection.

They stand in clumps, here and there on that stark hill, drawn

together by the sheer terror of what is happening. Two words

describe what they feel: appalled and shattered.

But off by himself, as close as he could get to the base of the

cross, is a tall, gangly sixteen-year-old with thick black hair

and an angular jaw that makes him appear decisive, though at heart

he is a dreamer and thinker.

But now his eyes are hard and narrow, staring at the blood that is

dripping from the rough-hewn crossbar above. It has made a

glistening pool in the rocky surface below, and each time another

drop falls and breaks the surface of the puddle, Jonathan winces.

JERICHO AND THE JORDAN

Jonathan's connection to Jesus goes back a full three years to

Jericho and the Jordan when he was thirteen. Jonathan was a

shepherd who had grown up out-of-doors, familiar with each hill

and vale on the Jericho plain, for he had grazed his father's

sheep there since he had been a lad. Of all the shepherd boys,

Jonathan had always been curious about God. He was always

pestering the town rabbi with questions.

That same hunger to learn explained Jonathan's presence one sultry

day when John the Baptist had been preaching and baptizing at the

nearby River Jordan. Whenever he could slip away and leave the

sheep with his brothers, Jonathan would run down to the Jordan in

long, loping strides, until he reached the crowds at the

riverside.

JOHN THE BAPTIST

With a voice that seemed to carry for miles, the Prophet was

saying, "You blind and thoughtless people! You live as if there is

no tomorrow. Don't you know that the axe is already at the root of

the trees? Don't you know that every tree that does not bear good

fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire? Don't you know?"

The Prophet had a kind of desperateness about him as he would call

out to the multitudes that stood hushed along the banks. "Don't

you know that the Kingdom of God is at hand, that Messiah is

nearly come? Don't live in your sins any longer! Cleanse your

hearts and your ways, and be baptized! Wash away your sins and

receive forgiveness from your God!"

Jonathan had been one of those who had waded into the water in

response to the Prophet's call. "Yes, Lord, cleanse my heart," he

had prayed. "Make me ready for your Kingdom." And as Jonathan came

up out of the water he had felt God's forgiveness and newness. At

thirteen he had become a son of the Law. Now he was a son of the

Kingdom, too.

Behold, the Lamb of God

As he had stood, water dripping from his long hair, something

strange and wonderful had occurred. Suddenly the Prophet was

silent, and just stood staring. Staring at something on the

riverbank. As the Prophet continued to stare, soon every eye of

every person followed his gaze. John the Baptist was looking at a

man walking at the river's edge.

"Behold!" John the Baptist had said in awe. "Behold! The Lamb of

God, who takes away the sin of the world." And at that, the

Prophet bowed his head slightly out of reverence, and as he did,

so did the rest of the people.

The man had nodded almost imperceptibly to the Prophet in

response, and then continued to walk along the bank. The crowds

parted as he came to them and they let him through. Then he had

passed on, out of sight, and it was over.

Soon the crowd was all a-buzz. "Who was that?" they asked one

another.

"Jesus, the carpenter from Nazareth," said one who knew him, and

soon the word spread throughout the crowd. "It is Jesus. Jesus,

the carpenter from Nazareth."

The next day it was the same. Preaching, baptizing for hours

throughout the morning and then the Prophet stopped again, and

again his gaze fell upon the man.

"Lamb of God," Jonathan could hear the Prophet say with hushed

reverence. "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the

world."

WHY A LAMB?

That's it? That is Jonathan's connection to this man on the cross?

Didn't he even hear Jesus teach or see him perform a miracle?

Actually, no. When Jesus came to Jericho a year or two later and

converted that notorious tax collector Zacchaeus, Jonathan had

been away in search of ungrazed fields for his flock.

So what kind of tenuous connection is this?

Not tenuous at all. Persistent, obsessive, perhaps -- anything but

tenuous -- because the vivid image of Jesus' face and those very

strange words, "Lamb of God," had burned indelibly into Jonathan's

heart.

What does "Lamb of God" mean? he wondered. Next chance he got, he

asked the rabbi.

"What is the Lamb of God, Rabbi?"

The old man gestured for him to sit down in the shade outside the

Jericho synagogue that hot afternoon. Then the old rabbi eased his

tired body onto a stool next to the doorway.

THE PASSOVER LAMB

"You know, Jonathan," the white-bearded rabbi began, "that lambs

are regularly sacrificed for the sins of the people.

"Then, too, your father takes his best lambs up to Jerusalem every

spring for Passover. Centuries ago, boy," he said, "when God

brought us out of the land of Egypt, Pharaoh didn't want to let

our people go. You remember the ten plagues God brought on the

Egyptians under Moses? The final plague was to be the death of the

firstborn.

"So that first Passover which took place the night before the

Great Exodus, a lamb was sacrificed for each family. Each father

dipped a branch of hyssop into the blood of his family's

sacrifice, and daubed it on the doorpost and lintel of his house."

As the rabbi continued to speak, Jonathan's mind could visualize

the slaughtered lamb. And he could see the fresh blood of the lamb

that had been painted onto the doorpost. He could see it drip down

the post and dribble onto the ground.

"And at evening on that Day," the rabbi continued, "each father

made very sure that each child -- each son, each daughter -- had

been brought inside the house and accounted for. Because outside

that night, the Lord struck the land of Egypt, slaying the

firstborn son of every family in the entire kingdom. Every

firstborn died, except for those sons of Israel whose fathers had

sacrificed a lamb and painted its blood on their doorposts as a

mark of faith.

"'When I see the blood,' God had promised, 'I will pass over you.'

And He did pass over us," the rabbi concluded. "Not one firstborn

Israelite met death that night when death was all around us. And

by morning all Israel walked free, journeying out of the land of

bondage into a new day of liberty."

So the "Lamb of God" is a Passover lamb, thought Jonathan, as he

thanked the rabbi and returned to his father's flocks. A Passover

lamb.

LAMBS FOR THE TEMPLE

Jonathan's father had a contract to deliver eight dozen Passover

lambs to the Temple in Jerusalem a few days before Passover.

Jonathan, now sixteen, and his older brother Benjamin were given

the responsibility of bringing these 96 lambs to Jerusalem.

As Jonathan's flock climbed the Jericho Road up to Jerusalem, he

pondered these sheep and their wonderful and awful role in

redemption. Two weeks from now, each would have been slaughtered,

and its blood poured out. Had this been ancient Egypt, each lamb

would have been sacrificed for a family so that the Lord might

pass over them -- the lamb's life given in exchange for the lives

of the family.

Jonathan looked at the white, woolly backs of these yearling lambs

as they bobbed up and down on the road to Jerusalem. What a burden

for an innocent sheep, to die for a family. His father's lambs

would suffice for ninety-six families, but what about the rest?

Jonathan's dark eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but his mind

was a thousand miles away. Only ninety-six families. Surely there

are enough lambs for the others.

JERUSALEM

But there was no time for the lazy musings of the upward path now.

They had reached the summit of the hill, and beyond them was the

glorious panorama of the Holy City, the gold of the Temple

gleaming in the noonday sun. What a thrill!

Now down to the Kidron brook that runs along the east side of the

Temple. Then the flock struggled up the steep grade to the Sheep

Gate where they were inspected by a priest. And as each was found

to be without blemish, each was certified as an approved

sacrifice. And each of those unblemished sheep would bring

Jonathan's father a handsome price.

For the next few days Jonathan and his brother guarded the

certified yearling lambs until the day of Passover. Then their

task would be over and they would return to Jericho.

Jesus, too, was in Jerusalem, Jonathan had heard. Jonathan hoped

to get to see him before going home. But the sheep kept him busy

and soon his few days in the Holy City were nearly over.

Then in rapid succession, Jonathan heard bits of the shocking news

that flashed throughout the city. Jesus had been arrested! Now he

was being tried. Now condemned to death. How could this be? How

could it?

Jonathan's duties were over now and he was free to roam the

pilgrim-packed city. But there was little joy in the city this

year. Tension, yes, and hatred. There was fear and anger, too, as

the Romans carried out their grizzly task of crucifying the

popular hero Jesus.

AT THE CROSS

Many others had heard the news by now, and Jonathan joined the

crowd that surged along the road that led to the killing ground

outside the city to see if it were really true. There Jonathan

finally saw him on the center cross, dying. Jesus! He looked like

Jonathan remembered him, yet drained, crushed, as it were, by the

weight of the world. A crown of thorns had been pressed into his

scalp, and his hands and feet had been spiked to the huge cross

that stood naked against the foreboding darkness.

Jonathan pushed closer. Part of him wanted to run and hide. But

part of him had to see, had to see for himself. Jonathan edged his

way through the press of mourners until he came to the perimeter

set up by the soldiers.

Jonathan stood transfixed, tears running down his cheeks. And then

he heard Jesus declare in a weak voice, yet clearly, "Father,

forgive them, for they know not what they do."

"What are they doing?" Jonathan wanted to shout. "What are they

doing to this holy and righteous man?"

Jonathan's eyes followed another droplet of blood as it lingered

for a moment on the wooden crossbeam, and then fell onto the rocks

below the cross.

Perhaps of all the onlookers that day, Jonathan alone remembered

and began to understand.

"Behold," Jonathan said out loud, but quietly so that no one could

hear unless they were listening intently. "Behold," said Jonathan,

weeping silently, now dropping to his knees.

"Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world."

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