The Look

Imagining what it was like that Passover night can help us get a picture of ourselves through His eyes.

One of my hobbies is photography, and I often wonder what it might have been like to capture on camera certain notable events recorded in Scripture.

Following is a fictionalized account of what may have transpired only hours before Jesus Christ’s crucifixion (as recorded in Matthew 26, Luke 22, Mark 14 and John 18). As I snap the photo at a crucial moment in this scenario, what might we see of ourselves in our first-century counterparts?

The look

A hissing sizzle followed by a crackle sent orange embers into the chilled, predawn air. The hazy, dense light from the fire pit cast eerie shadows through the courtyard onto the exterior walls of the high priest’s house. Dust billowed as a small group of men walked purposefully, roughly pushing a man from their midst inside the house. A bystander lagged behind—just close enough to catch every third or fourth word spoken, yet far enough away not to be mistaken as part of the entourage. He stepped backwards towards the fire pit.

A young servant girl brushed against the robe of the offender as He stumbled through the home’s arched entrance. She knew that robe and that face … but from where? She headed to the fire to warm herself. Acknowledging two fellow servants nearby, she stared through the flames and then directly into the eyes of the stranger who was also somehow familiar to her.

“Aren’t you one of that Man’s disciples?” she blurted as she pointed to the One just taken into the house. She remembered seeing them both—just last week! The Man with the robe had ridden a donkey over a palm-strewn path. Crowds had cheered “hosanna” and the man now seated near the fire had been among the most exuberant of His supporters.

The stranger’s sharp denial rocked her backwards, and she knitted her brow as she stared into the fire. Two guards marched briskly past her, sheathed swords slapping their thighs. What a strange morning—so much commotion!

Soon other voices joined in the accusations: “You are one of them,” a servant at the fire said, rising while accusing, as if to summon the guards who approached the arched entrance. The stranger vehemently denied the accusation, his eyes moving quickly between the house and the small group being warmed by the coals. Shifting uncomfortably, he turned his back to his accusers.

Seated near the pit, the young girl drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping herself in the warmth of her robe. The slightest hint of light appeared in the eastern sky.

She turned her head as the guards, two advisers, the high priest and the robed Man emerged from the house. Sensing the charged air, she watched the stranger bristle as he made eye contact with one of the guards.

Another voice at the fire pit exclaimed, “This guy was with Him!” pointing first to the stranger and then to the robed Man.

The stranger’s face contorted with terror as he powerfully and insistently denied the accusation. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” he shouted, cursing indignantly.

A rooster crowed in the pale morning light as the robed Man and the stranger locked eyes.

Snap! Freeze frame

The energy of their gaze transfixed her. She felt like an intruder in this private exchange, yet she was drawn in by the intense mystery of the look.

One guard’s sword bumped a clay pot, sending it cascading into the terrace wall, shattering it and the awkward silence.

The stranger’s eyes moistened. He expelled a small breath, as though ready to respond; his lips moved without sound.

The robed man’s face was bloodied and swollen as He stood—not with indignation, but with purpose, resolution and determination. His eyes mirrored the fire’s flames yet were filled with compassion.

She could not make herself look away.

She had heard about this Man while attending to her duties in the high priest’s home. Derogatory accusations. Childish mockings. She’d even overheard the words “blasphemous,” “King of the Jews” and “insurrection.”

Instead, as she stared into His eyes, what she saw was ardent, open sincerity … and forgiveness.

“Move along!” the guard barked, pushing the robed Man forward into the breaking morning light. The stranger raised his hands, almost imperceptibly, as the robed man passed.

Rivulets of tears streamed down the stranger’s face, his body convulsing with sobs. He turned to the road, still weeping. She had so many questions; and moving toward him in the morning stillness, she matched her stride with his. …

Responding to “the look”

At this most somber time of year, we take stock of our personal involvement in the death of our Savior. Having contributed by living a life of sin, we accept culpability, determining to change, to follow His righteousness. Asking that we commemorate and participate in His sacrifice for us, He gives us “the look.” How we respond answers our questions and defines our future steps.

Janel Johnson is a pastor’s wife, substitute teacher, mom and grandma. Among her interests are music and photography.