Radically Happy

Building on Hello, Resentment (The Difficult Parts)

I see Simon the Zealot from The Chosen, practicing backflips while holding a knife.

The Earnest Redeemer: Um, that looks dangerous.

Zealot: [without pausing] It’s a dangerous world.

E. Huh, I thought you gave up the knife when you chose to follow Jesus.

Z. Not a chance. Somebody has to protect Him.

E. That’s… useful to know. Who do you need to protect Him from?

Z. The Pharisees. Bunch of hypocrites. Claim to believe in God, but refuse to put their faith in Jesus.

E. Hmm. Why does that make them hypocrites? Maybe they’re just, I dunno, ignorant of who Jesus really is?

Simon Z. stops the backflips.
But still has his knife out.
He takes a half-step towards me.
Not aggressive.
But not exactly non-threatening.
Wary.

Z. Do you know anything about Pharisees?

I am about to give a glib answer, but am arrested by the dangerous gleam in his eyes.

E. Ah, probably not as much as you.

Z. So then, let me lay it out for you.

He sits down and appears to relax, but takes out a whetstone and starts deliberately honing his already razor-sharp knife.
Which keeps me from relaxing.

Z. [reflectively] When I was young. I idolized the Pharisees. They represented all that was pure and holy about being Jewish. A testament to all we had lost, and as well as what we had retained.

I nod. I had felt that way about Jedi Knights during the original Star Wars trilogy.

Z. [sharpening more loudly] When I got older, I realized it was all a sham. They were in bed with the Romans. Sure, they mouth pious words. Claim to follow the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But it’s all just empty rituals. All they really trust in is their power, position, and politics. If anyone — even one sent from God — threatens that status, they react with violence.

E. So… that’s why you still have your knife?

Z. Yeah. Because Jesus is too precious for me to let someone else’s sinfulness kill Him.

E. Someone… else’s?

Z. [rising] What are you implying?

E. [backpedaling] I… I’m not trying to imply anything. I just… found it an odd turn of phrase.

Simon Z sits back on his haunches, and looks reflective.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Z. I… Okay, I admit I am a sinner too. But this is different. Their sinfulness makes them want to hurt Jesus. My sinfulness protects Jesus.

E. That’s… interesting. Why is it important that Jesus be protected from those who wish Him harm?

Z. Because He is the hope of Israel! The one I’ve been waiting for all my life. I would gladly give my life for Him to succeed!

E. So… you don’t merely want Him to stay alive. You also want Him to fulfill His purpose. Even if it costs you everything.

Z. [looks down] Yeah. You… you don’t know what I was like before.

E. [looking at him] Angry. Scared. Desperate. Wanting to hope. Afraid it was all a delusion. Unsure what horrible deed I must commit to make everything come out all right. Terrified I might make the wrong choice.

Z. [eyes narrowing] Are you saying I still feel like that?

E. No. [lift my chin] I am saying I do.

We lock eyes.

He turns away first.

Z. [softly] Maybe I do too.

E. Then… [deep breath] is it possible… the Pharisees also feel like that?

Z. I… No! Maybe. Yes?

His heart is in his eyes.
I think about giving him a hug, but he is still waving a naked blade.
I settle for clapping a hand on his shoulder.

E. Simon… do you know Christ’s real purpose?

Z. I… heard one of them say John called Him the Lamb of God… that takes away the sins of the world.

E. [gently] And do you know how lambs do that?

Z. [ghostly whisper] By… by being sacrificed.

E. …

Z. No! No, please don’t make me do that. Don’t make just stand by while they murder Him. I can’t… I can’t bear to go back to what I was before I met Him.

Unshed tears blur his vision.
He loosens the grip on his knife.

I step closer.

E. Simon. Look at me.

He flinches at my tone, but bravely lifts His eyes.

E. I am from your future. Perhaps I am your future. And I am here to tell you death is not the end. Not Christ’s. Not yours.

Moving ever so slowly, I gently pry the knife from his unresisting fingers, and toss it behind him.

He weeps, and buries his face in both hands from the shame.

I place my arms around him.

E. [soothingly] You know, you really do have a special gift that uniquely qualifies you to help Jesus fulfill His purpose.

Z. [snorting] My compulsive need to solve problems with violence?

E. [smiling and stepping back] Almost. Your ability to use violence well comes from a deep realization that words alone are not enough, which inspired relentless training to equip you to fight the most important battles.

Z. But I thought you were saying Jesus doesn’t need me to protect Him?

E. Exactly. The other disciples want to protect Him, but between you and me they’d be useless against armed guards. And deep down they know it. You’d actually have a fighting chance of distracting them long enough for Jesus to escape

Z. If that’s what He wanted.

E. [nodding]. Exactly. Because you are strong, clear-eyed, and disciplined enough to be able to effectively use violence — you have a genuine choice.

Z. What choice, exactly?

E. [stepping right up into his face] To choice to use your strength and skill to get what you want for Jesus — or deliberately sacrifice that to ensure Jesus gets what He wants for you.

He stares me in the eye, then steps back and picks up the discarded knife.
He raises it point up, blade toward me.
So close my eyes cross looking at it.

I briefly think about all the ways he could instantly kill me.

The he flips the knife over and hands it to me hilt first.

I gingerly reach out to take it.
He laughs.

Z. It’s not poison. But you may want to dispose of it somewhere safe so you won’t hurt yourself. Or Jesus.

I gaze at him with newfound respect.

E. Like you just did.

He pauses, looks at me, and smiles.
For once, he seems truly relaxed.

Z. Yeah… I guess I did, at that.

He claps me appreciatively on the shoulder.
Then turns, and leaves.
To follow Jesus.

The End