Janus is ruthless. Esther, vulnerable. Caiaphas, devious. Judas, disillusioned. And the rest have no idea what's coming.
The final days of the life of Jesus Christ are the most momentous in human history. This novel explores those days through the eyes of those who loved, misunderstood, or opposed the mission of Jesus Christ.
What was that mission?
Who was that man? Was he trying to show us a different way to live with each other, or was he about to pull off the greatest coup in history?
How did those around Jesus respond when he opposed their plans and dreams?
What was Judas thinking?
And why would Jesus curse a perfectly good tree?
If you've asked these questions and more, or just enjoy fictional stories woven with historical fact, this book is for you.
Janus is ruthless. Esther, vulnerable. Caiaphas, devious. Judas, disillusioned. And the rest have no idea what's coming.
The final days of the life of Jesus Christ are the most momentous in human history. This novel explores those days through the eyes of those who loved, misunderstood, or opposed the mission of Jesus Christ.
What was that mission?
Who was that man? Was he trying to show us a different way to live with each other, or was he about to pull off the greatest coup in history?
How did those around Jesus respond when he opposed their plans and dreams?
What was Judas thinking?
And why would Jesus curse a perfectly good tree?
If you've asked these questions and more, or just enjoy fictional stories woven with historical fact, this book is for you.
A loud pounding on the door startled Esther from her thoughts. She froze in her seat as her eyes darted to the entrance. Who would be here at this hour? A week ago, one of the servants would have answered the knock. A year ago, her husband would have. No longer.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The visitor wasn’t leaving. The pounding echoed against the rich cedar walls, down the marble hallway to the darkness of the banquet room where she sat alone with her lamp and her plate of food. Esther closed her eyes for a moment and breathed. Be strong. She had never lived in fear, nor would she start tonight.
She gathered herself, stood, and advanced down the hall to the front door. Her husband’s old walking stick, polished smooth by his gentle hand, still lay against the wall. Better than nothing. She picked it up and held it at the ready.
“Who is it?” she called through the door. For a moment, there was no reply. She heard the clearing of a throat to speak.
“It is I. Your neighbor.” That didn’t seem likely.
“My neighbor?” she questioned.
“Yes, ma’am. If I could have just a word, perhaps.”
She recognized the voice, but it couldn’t actually be him. She cracked the door open.
“Rabbi?”
It was indeed. Caiaphas, the temple high priest, was standing outside her door. Alone. His temple robes absent, he was dressed in his house robe, his bearded face peering out from under the folds of the hood. He attempted what might have passed for a smile, with the corners of his mouth trembling upward for a split second, but then abandoned the effort.
“Good evening, ma’am. I hate to have troubled you at this late hour. I had meant to come at a better time, but my days have been full at the temple, and I can’t think to put it off any longer. It won’t take but a moment, if you don’t mind.”
Esther stared at him, unmoving.
The priest glanced about. Nervous, maybe. “Would it be alright if we spoke inside?”
Inside the home? Alone? She imagined the scandalous gossip that could produce. But surely his intentions were only good. He was the high priest, after all.
She found her manners. “Of course. Please come in.”
He stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him. She realized she was still gripping the walking stick. With a quick, nervous smile, she leaned it against the wall and moved away. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.
“Please, won’t you sit. I should get you something to drink. A hot drink, maybe? Normally the servants would…” she stuttered for her words. How much should she say about how her life was collapsing around her? “I’m afraid the servants aren’t around right now, but allow me to get you—”
“No, no.” He raised a hand in protest. “I won’t be a minute. Nothing to drink, please. I don’t even need to sit. I just want you to hear me out, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh,” Esther replied. “Okay.”
She should have said more, but words failed her. She simply stood there staring at him—the high priest.
“I know this past year has been hard on you. Your husband was a good man.”
Caiaphas knew Joel? Joel had never mentioned that they had even spoken a word to each other. Perhaps there had been something many years ago. Some sort of…what? Conflict? Hard to remember now. Joel handled it, as he always did with such matters. But now, to hear her esteemed neighbor speak of her husband, it was comforting to know his reputation had reached such heights in the community. The priest continued.
“His passing was felt by all, but I know no one feels that more than you, his loving wife of so many years. And now it comes to my attention that on top of the grief you have had to endure, you are now encountering significant financial hardship.”
Her eyes widened. What did he know? “It’s nothing I won’t be able to work through. God always provides. You of all people…”
“Of course. Our God is a God of great mercy, and that is why I am here. Word has come to my house of your plight. Our servants. They were friends. They talk. I know without means to pay them, yours have had to seek other employment. But perhaps there is a way you could bring them back.”
He paused for a moment, but Esther stood silent.
Caiaphas continued. “A gift. A loan, really, but essentially the same thing. A way for you to get by until you get back on your feet. You could bring back the servants. You could purchase the necessities for the home. And pay me back over time.”
“A loan? I am starting to learn about all that, but Joel always handled the finances, and I wouldn’t know the first thing…”
“It’s quite all right. I know all about it. I’ve done this many times, and it’s the least I can do for a neighbor in need. It’s settled, then. I’ll have my scribe write it up officially, and you’ll have the money in no time.”
He turned toward the door but then stopped.
“Oh, it won’t matter to you, but these funds will be coming from the temple treasury. I would loan it personally, but political obligations won’t allow it, I’m sure you understand.”
No. No, she didn’t understand at all. What was happening? She was getting money? From the high priest? Or the temple? Or something? Earlier today, she talked to her son about coming back to live with her to try to make ends meet. Now she would have money? It was all so sudden. Something was off. But it couldn’t be. This was Caiaphas, the high priest.
“I should note,” Caiaphas continued, “the house will have to be used as collateral. Just a formality, understand. To make it legal. Otherwise, the council would never approve.”
He backed up toward the door, reaching for the latch.
“The house? What do you mean exactly?”
“A formality, be assured. Trust me. Trust God. The day of your deliverance is at hand.”
In his haste, his sandal caught on a tile, and he stumbled to the door. He nodded at her, as if to show he was fine. He had said his piece and clearly couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. He opened the door, not waiting for her to offer.
“I’ll send someone by tomorrow with the paperwork. And the money.”
And without as much as a “Good Night, Ma’am,” he shut the door and was gone.
How strange. For a priest, he was a very nervous man.
Grab a ringside seat for the most daring rescue mission of all time as you countdown to the most momentous event in human history in this eminently engaging historical fiction tome.
It starts with a loan from the temple treasury to a poor widow named Esther. It ends on a hill outside first century Jerusalem on the darkest day in history. Or IS it?
While you're counting down, step into the culture, customs, language, traditions, geography, politics and peril of first century Israel in this highly engaging and uber readable new novel. Walk where Jesus and His disciples walked and trace the final two weeks of the life of “the prophet from Nazareth.” Along the way you can almost feel the campfires. Smell the donkeys. Taste the dates. See the fig trees. Hear sisters Mary and Martha grieving their dead brother as you view those days through the eyes of those who loved, misunderstood, or opposed the mission of Jesus Christ. Meanwhile, the books asks:
What was that mission? Who was that man? Was he trying to show us a different way to live with each other, or was he about to pull off the greatest coup in history? How did those around Jesus respond when he opposed their plans and dreams? What was Judas thinking? And why would Jesus curse a perfectly good tree?
There’s also “This cup… and the bread…” “… as I have loved you.” Let’s remember together. Remember why. The pit. “I must rescue them.” Time to finish the race. “Give it to me.” … To as many as received him. “It doesn’t end like this.” A lonely hill beyond the city walls. “Father, forgive them…” An “invisible tidal wave.” Martha. The Marys. Time for Death to die. The Stone.
I read Two Weeks cover-to-cover in one day. Briskly paced and brimming with perspicacity, it's inspirational and faith-flavored without being preachy. Propelled by sturdy writing and a solid plot, Two Weeks expertly conveys the whirlpool of emotions and reactions swirling around “the prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.” These include expectation and excitement. Anxiety and trepidation. Rage. Paranoia. Envy. Hope. Confusion. This is especially well done vis-à -vis Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on a donkey. The contrast between the response of Caiphas and the Pharisees and Sadducees to Jesus’ arrival and the response of the people to same is as sharp as a Roman gladius.
Vivid descriptions of the people, customs, and perspectives of the time pepper pages like chiles in salsa. So do spirited interactions with Jesus and His disciples. Imagery is used to good effect throughout. An example is the image of fleeing darkness at Calvary. It’s subtle but packs a punch. Love it! I also love the way Backholm weaves Old Testament personalities into the events at Calvary. Masterful!
Characterizations are rich and robust. They almost stand up and walk right off the page. And full-bodied characterizations aren’t limited to major characters. The list includes minor characters like Elsig the temple money changer. Lame Eli. A treed tax collector. A hired assassin. Gaius the centurion. Mrs. Pontius Pilate. Benaiah the revolutionary and thief. Many more. Love it again!
Additionally, the breadth and depth of research evident throughout these pages is obvious and prodigious. So is the author’s familiarity with the biblical narrative and other primary source material. And Chapters 18 and 19? If you’re not on your feet at this point, better check your pulse.
Told in pellucid prose that’s vivacious and vibrant while remaining true to the biblical text, Two Weeks will have you on the edge of your seat from the get-go. Even if you already know what happens next. If you don’t know what happens next or it’s a little hazy, then you might want to buckle up. Cuz the narrative speeds down the track like Secretariat rocketing around the final turn of the Belmont Stakes.
Marinated in mercy and drenched in grace, Two Weeks Till Sunday is packed with power and pathos. You’ll want to stand up and cheer as the clarion call of Victory rings loud and clear through the final pages. You may also want to grab a hankie. Or two. And fall on your knees for a Triumph too deep for words.
Yea, verily. Oceans of ink have been spilled and glittering galaxies of words have been spun about the final days of Jesus of Nazareth. It’s not a new subject. But there’s something in Backholm’s telling of the old, old story that’s as fresh as spring sunshine. As effervescent as champagne bubbles. As promising as a new dawn. Selah.
Finally, if you enjoyed Lew Wallace’s Ben Hur, Lloyd C. Douglas’ The Robe, Max Lucado’s He Chose the Nails, or the movie Risen, you’ll love Two Weeks Till Sunday.
So if you’re looking for something new and refreshing for Easter – or any time – check out Two Weeks Till Sunday. It’s a towering achievement, especially for a debut novel. Grab your copy today!