Letters from Adina - #30

Letter XXX. The Traitor’s Remorse.

"But that I had believed He would not do some miracle to escape them, I never would have sold Him."

My Dear Father,

I know not how to write —I know not what to say. Dismay and sorrow fill my heart. I feel as if life were a burden too heavy to bear.

Disappointment and regrets are all that remain to me. He in whom I trusted -He, whom thousands in Judah had begun to look upon as the Hope of the nation - He who, as His disciples trusted, would have redeemed Israel - Jesus has been delivered this morning, by the Roman Procurator, to be condemned to death, AND THEY HAVE CRUCIFIED HIM!

Tears of grief unutterable fall upon the parchment as I write, and plainer than any words tell you how I am smitten by this heavy blow!

I will give you an account, dear father, of what occurred after the taking of Jesus; for I wish you to know all concerning Him.

It was the third hour of the night, and I had just gone to my chamber, which overlooks the Street of Kings, when the night’s stillness was broken by the sudden outcries of fierce men.

Then I heard the quick questionings of the Roman sentinels, the galloping of several horsemen, and a confused tumult, the cries of which increased continually.

But I will transcribe for you my cousin Mary’s account of it, just written by her to Martha of Bethany.

“I went out upon the terrace, which overlooks the street,’’ says Mary in her letter, ‘‘and beheld a multitude advancing with torches flashing; and they quickly came opposite the house, at least two hundred men in number, half-clad and savage, with flashing eyes and scowling looks.

Here and there among them was a Levite urging them on; and I also beheld Abner the priest, kindling their wrath by loud oratory and eager gestures. Behind rode five Roman horsemen, with levelled spears, guarding a young man who walked in front of their horses. It was Jesus!

His locks were disheveled, His beard torn, His face appeared marred, and His garments rent. He was pale and in pain, yet walked with a firm step. I broke foirth into tears, and so did Adina, who had come out to learn the cause of the tumult. He looked up, and said, meekly, “Weep not for me.”

He would have said more, but the priest smote Him rudely upon the mouth; and the crowd, following the priest’s example, would have done Him further insult, but for the Roman soldiers, who turned their spears every way to guard Him from violence; for by their centurion’s orders they had rescued Him from the terrible rage of the Jews, and were commanded to bring Him safely before Pilate.

Thus guarded by Roman soldiers and escorted, by the men who thirsted for His blood, He was led onward to the Praetorium, where the Roman Procurator dwelt.

Gradually, the whole multitude, horsemen, Jews, priests, torch-bearers, and unresisting captive, disappeared in the distance; and then came silence, a dread and unearthly silence.

I turned and looked in Adina’s face: She was leaning, colorless as marble, against one of the columns.

‘‘What can all this mean?” she said, full of fear. “Can it be possible He has suffered Himself to be taken - He who could destroy or make alive with a word? What means this dreadful tumult we have but now beheld?”

While we were yet talking, dearest Martha, a dark figure passed stealthily along in the street beneath, and seemed to court the shadows of the houses.

My father, Rabbi Amos, opened the outer gate, with a torch in his hand, to follow, at our request, the crowd of people, and see what should befall Jesus.

The light glared full upon the tall, spare form of Peter, the fisherman of Galilee.

His dark, stern features wore a look of anxious fear.

“Is it thou, Peter!” cried my father. “What meaneth all this? Who has ordered the arrest of Jesus? What has He done?”

“That hateful and envious man, Caiaphas, seeks to destroy Him, and with large gifts of gold has bribed the baser Jews to do this thing.

Come with me, Rabbi, and let us die with Him!” And the Galilean pressed eagerly forward so swiftly that my father could not keep up with him.

It is an hour since I wrote the last line. The interval has been one of anguish. The cries “Crucify him ! crucify him !” have distinctly reached our ears.

John is now here. About half an hour after Jesus passed he reached the house, almost destitute of apparel, his garments having been torn off from him by the Jews, who endeavored to make him prisoner also.

John has just gone up to the Temple, in disguise of a priest, to get news: he weareth my father’s robes. I tremble lest he be discovered, and taken; for the Jews are as bitter against the disciples as against their Master.

I have just seen a messenger, passing in great haste along the street, and his horse falling, cast him to the earth almost upon our threshold.

It was the page of Aemilius, the noble Roman knight who is betrothed to my cousin Adina.

She hastened to his aid. He was but stunned, and soon was able to tell us that he bore a message from Lucia Metella, the fair and youthful bride of Pilate, urging the Proculator to have nothing to do with the Jesus, but give Him His liberty; for she had just awaked from a dream, wherein she saw Him sitting on the throne of the universe, crowned with the stars of heaven, the earth as a footstool beneath His feet, and all the nations assembled, and doing Him homage, while kings cast their glittering crowns and sceptres at His feet, and hailed him as God!

Such was the account given by the page to Adina; then remounting his horse, he has set forth rapidly on his way towards the Praetorium.

This report of the page has filled our hearts with joy and hope inexpressible. Confident that Jesus is the Son of God, we will not fear what man can do unto Him.

It is day. My father has returned, and says nothing can save Jesus but the prophet’s own divine power. The Jews are in number many thousands, and cry for his blood.

Pilate has but a cohort of soldiers, and fears to use force, lest the angry people break into open revolt, and take the city from his hands, which they can do with ease  if they will unite.

“He hesitates,” said my father, “between fear of condemning an innocent man, and dread of the vengeance of the Jews if he let him go. Nothing can save the Prophet but His own mighty miracle-working power. He who has saved others, will surely save Himself.”

While my father was speaking, a man rushed into our presence. He was low in stature, broad-chested, with a stiff, reddish beard, narrow eyes, and sharp, cunning face.

His attire was ragged and mean, as was his whole aspect. He grasped in his right hand a small bag which rang with coin as his shaking hand held it. He trembled all over, and seizing my father by the arm with the quick, strong grasp of one possessed, cried hoarsely:

“Will He let them? will He? will He?”

 “Will He let them do what, Iscariot? Of whom speakest thou? Art thou crazed? Thou shouldst well be, after thy deed to-night.”

“Will He let them kill Him? Will He die? Will He die? Think you He will escape? He can if He will! Cords, to Him, are ropes of sand!”

“No, no - he is bound hand and foot,” answered my father, sadly. “He makes no defence! I fear He will let them do as they list with Him. He makes no effort to save His life.”

At this, Judas, for it was that wicked man, beat his forehead and breast in a frenzied manner with the bag of silver, and, with a look of horrible despair, rushed forth, crying as he went -

“I will save Him! The priests shall have their money again. He shall not die! But that I had believed He would not do some miracle to escape them, I never would have sold Him.

I hoped to get their money, and trusted, if they bound Him, that He would escape by His own power. I did not dream that He would not exert it to save Himself.

I will save Thee, innocent man of God! for I alone am guilty, and not Thou. Oh, if I had but foreseen this! But He shall not die!”

Raving thus, he disappeared towards the Praetorium, leaving us all amazed at what we had heard.

“Verily,” said my father, “I understand it now. Judas hoped to gain the money and cheat the chief priests, trusting to the Prophet’s divine power to save Himself out of their hands.

Behold the power of conscience! He is now beside himself, with horror and remorse; for he knows that He whom he has betrayed is a man of God, without sin or guile!”

The sun is up. The fate of Jesus is sealed! The Procurator has signed the sentence of death, and He is to be crucified to-day!

But I believe with Judas that He cannot die, and that He will signalise the hour by some wonderful miracle of mighty power. Thus, tremblingly, we hope and wait.

Here my dear father, terminates what my cousin Mary has written to Martha and Lazarus, and as it is a very minute account, please to receive it as if written by myself; for during the night, I was in too great a fear to write faithfully as she had done.

Your sorrowing, but loving daughter,

Adina.

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LADY DONNA PROGRAM

The new Lady Donna Immersion in Spirituality, Academics and Citizenship @ the "I AM" School will study abridged excerpts of the Letters from Adina taken from Reverend Ingraham's original edited version of 'The Prince of the House of David', published by Cassell & Co. Ltd (1903), that reveal remarkable insights into the Living Etheric Record left by Beloved Jesus's Ministry in the Holy Land.