“Could it have been his disappointment in the people’s lack of response that drove him to disrupt the business of the Temple soon after he entered the city? Did he believe that such a dramatic move against the authorities as tipping over the tables of the money-changers might rally the crowds to his cause in far greater numbers than he had been able to achieve through his words or his good works among the poor and the sick?”

“Jesus wept over the city many times,” John replied, “sad that they could not understand those things which would bring them peace and happiness, for he could foresee a terrible day when not one stone of Jerusalem would still stand upon another because they had not recognized their visitation. When he had said those things, we had been too ignorant to understand his meaning.”

“John, have you ever reflected on what might have happened had that tremendous crowd of pilgrims, gathering for the holiday, believed he was truly the Messiah? Without doubt, Jesus could have mobilized a citizen’s army large enough so that even with only clubs and stones they could have captured the Fortress Antonia within a day or two.”

John shook his head helplessly. “I realize that as a Roman you must find it difficult to comprehend that Jesus did not come to recruit an army against our enemies and the persecutors of our people. Please try to understand that he came only to gather his children together so he could teach them how to find and enjoy the Kingdom of God in love and peace.”

“And this Kingdom of God: have you managed to find it? Where is it?”

Now it was John’s turn to reach across the table. With his first finger he tapped boldly against my chest and said, “The Kingdom of God is within you, just where Jesus said it is!”

Suddenly I felt ill. Nauseated. I wanted to vomit. With only scant circulation from the three small windows, the upper chamber was a giant kiln, baking us slowly. I closed my eyes, and in the darkness I could see silver lightning bouncing from side to side. This whole unbelievable experience was beginning to take a physical as well as mental toll. I inhaled and exhaled as deeply as I could—again, and again—until I heard Joseph’s concerned voice asking, “Are you ill, Matthias?”

I shook my head. There was little time to spare if Pilate was on to me. I waved both arms at the table and candle and asked, “What is your strongest memory of the last supper that Jesus ate here?”