"I AM!"
The voice was loud in a way that went beyond sound, into the realm of primal physical force.
It blew us backward and knocked us all to the ground like a sudden invisible storm off the Galil.
The clatter of shields and bucklers and the startled cries of officers, soldiers and priests briefly filled the night only erratically lit from the floundering torches.
Our cohort had approached Gethsemane boldly, confident that we would finally be able to rid the city of this blasphemous rabble-rouser.
But now we were flattened on the ground like the early rain beetles trampled under the farmer's foot.
Then He asked them again, “Whom are you seeking?” And they said, “Yeshua of Nazareth.”
Why did He ask that second time? Why did the officers respond?
In all the years since, I have guessed but still do not know for sure.
That we were supposed to arrest Him in fulfillment of His plan from before the foundation of the world is clear. That He would submit voluntarily to all that would follow in glorious and unfathomable collaboration with the Father is also clear.
But why the second question? Didn't the first establish His identity forever afterward, recorded in the holy writings for all eternity?
Didn't His display of divine power testify that He could have destroyed us all right there, in the twinkling of an eye, by a mere thought or word, and that His subsequent acquiescence to the forthcoming horrors prove infallibly that His surrender was, above all else, according to His devotion to His Father?
Destroy us? Indeed, He could have destroyed the whole city, the world, the very Heavens with the word of His mouth!
I, Malchus, have come to believe that His asking that second time was a wondrous display of mercy in the midst of inconceivable power.
He asked again to give us all - those arrayed against Him in hatred, violence and unbelief - a second chance to acknowledge who He was, and thereby be saved from our condemnation.
And it was that second question that did me in, and transformed me from a servant of the human High Priest, to a devoted follower of the Great High Priest.
“Whom are you seeking?” infiltrated my befuddled brain like a sonorous Temple chorus intoning the Hallel. It undid me more than being flattened to the ground.
“Yeshua of Nazareth.” It was an officer of the Guard who spoke the answer first, and loudest. It was he who would later slap this Yeshua across the face during His interrogation by Annas, my former human master.
God Is Salvation is what His name meant. I knew that, being a good and devout Jew. And I had heard the rumors and mutterings that this Man's followers thought He came from above, that He Himself had said as much, and that His works proved it.
Some even thought He was the very Son of God, a concept and declaration of utter blasphemy.
But His answer, I AM, the very name of the Eternal One Who Shall Not Be Named, was either confession of this same blasphemy… or something else.
And suddenly, like an irresistible wave of the Great Sea, the import of His second question carried me along, compelling me to know, truly, who was this Yeshua of Nazareth we were seeking to arrest and kill.
I NEEDED to know, and I sought to move closer to Him in the ensuing advance of the cohort to determine as much as I could NOW! The compulsion was inescapable.
In my heart I knew my approach was fraught with danger and the wordless possibility of great reward.
I scrambled frantically toward my destiny in the clamor and chaos of that dark and momentous night.
To my utter astonishment, I was able to come near to the One whom I sought, as if a path through the melee was miraculously opened up for my passage alone.
But my encounter was not without cost.
