Excerpt
I spent the remainder of the morning in the dusty groves above the Kidron Valley, on the western slope of the
Mount of Olives. From there I could quietly survey all of Jerusalem. A few hours later, I returned to the main road and joined
the pilgrims moving into the Holy City. I could not know then, of course, how I was about to become part of an inexorable
avalanche of events about to destroy the single innocent man who stood resolutely in its path.
Not until later would I understand more, learning portions of it from those prominent in religious and political circles who
welcomed me because of my wealth. Many of the other participants-- servants and scribes, women and soldiers-- later recounted
their witness to His followers. Eventually, when combined with what the followers themselves had seen, this entire story would
become clear to me; I lean heavily on their accounts-- admitting some speculation at their motives-- for what I was unable to see
myself.
And what I could not see that morning began on the other side of the hill. |
