This week on Myths and Legends. It's the story of the Holy Grail, where we'll learn all about the origin of this incredibly famous object from Arthurian Legend, and you'll see that you, apparently, should be very picky about which dishes you bring to your next dinner party.

The creature this week is the reason you shouldn't pet that sad, lonely puppy. I know, it's tough, but just trust me. Don't do it.

This is Myths and Legends, episode 120A. Only the penitent man will pass.

This is a podcast where I tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular stories you think you know, but with surprising origins.

Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth listening. Today's story is not an Arthurian Legend. It's actually way, way before King Arthur.

It's probably best described as being from Christian Legends, though the Catholic Church declared Grail lore heresy in 1600s. But anyway, like I said, this is far before Arthurian Legends.

It starts not in Britain, but in Jerusalem, and not with a knight, but a rabbi, in the year 33 AD.

Joseph of Arimathea walked through the room. The upper room. Just the night before, he was here with his followers, those closest to him.

Joseph sighed. When he entered the city, Joseph had wondered if he should seek him out again. He had decided against it. Now the guy was dead. Betrayed by one of his own followers. For silver.

Joseph walked silently through the room. The followers had rented the venue, but a lot had happened in the last 24 hours. All remained, just as the group had left it.

Joseph thought that it was a little weird that they all sat on the same side of the table, like they were posing for a painting or something, but ah, there it was.

In the center of the long table, sat a cup. It had been his cup. Reports of what he had said were already going viral among his followers. The cup had been important.

Joseph shook his head. But now the man was dead. His followers weren't saying anything now. They weren't hiding. Their leader executed by the Romans.

It was never safe to be associated with him, but somehow, it was now more dangerous than ever. Slowly, Joseph took the cup. He hadn't been by the man in his last moments of life. But he could be there for him and his death.

It was surprisingly easy to get an audience with a Roman prefect. Whether he was surprisingly sympathetic to the man he just executed or simply didn't care about some Jewish revolutionary, the outcome was the same.

If he was dead, Joseph could take him down from the cross. When Joseph arrived, soldiers had pierced the man's side. The Romans told him to stay back, but he held up the edict with the prefect seal.

With a shrug, the gather soldiers turned and took down the cross. There was only one place Joseph could think of to put the body, his own place.

He had his own tomb, hewn from the rock. And, though he was getting old himself, and when he needed to find another, he had a tomb. And this man needed one.

Joseph wrapped the body in linens. He glanced back at the body one last time on his way out. He snapped his fingers. Yes.

He paid the Romans extra to guard the body and soon returned with the cup from the upper room. This cup is the New Testament in my blood, which is shed for you.

That's what the man had said at dinner, according to the witness accounts. Maybe that's why Joseph of Ayr Mathia had taken the cup and caught the blood.

He still believed in the guy, what he had said. But he was now dead. And it would take a miracle to accomplish what he had said would come true.

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