All my imminent danger was temporarily forgotten. So far as my mind and heart were concerned, at that moment, we might just as well have been having our discussion in the crowded Temple courtyard or the greenery of Gethsemane or the small tent in the marketplace instead of in a makeshift dungeon in Antonia.

“If not faith, James … what was it?”

He hesitated. “If you should survive tomorrow’s contest, do you intend to include what I tell you in your writings?”

“Yes, of course.”

He shook his head pityingly. “If you do, they will laugh at you and scorn you.”

“I’ve been laughed at—and scorned—before.”

“Very well. Because of my younger son’s illness, our family had not gone up to Jerusalem for that Passover when Jesus was crucified. We knew nothing of what had happened until our neighbor, Rehum, returned from the city with the terrible news. He also told us of the rumor that was spreading through the city, as swiftly as rumors always fly, that the tomb of Jesus had been discovered empty on the third day after his crucifixion and some were saying that his body had been stolen by his disciples.”

“How did you feel when you heard about the crucifixion?”

“I was filled with a remorse so strong that I became sick. I wept for many hours—tears of guilt and shame and self-hatred for how I had treated Jesus during his last year when he was trying so hard to convince all of us that the Kingdom of God was very near. I could not eat. Everything that passed my mouth tasted like salt—”

The sound of trumpets from the adjoining Temple interrupted James. He cupped his hands over his ears to block out the sound.

“What did you do next?” I asked, as soon as the brassy notes subsided.