YE GENERATION OF VIPERS
For several days before the Passover celebration every highway leading
to Jerusalem had been ground to fine dust by the hoofs of flocks and
herds, and of slow asses laden with coops of doves and by the wheels of
carts heavy with lambs--all moving toward the sacrificial knives of the
Temple. By the morning of the day preceding that of the Great Feast,
at an early hour all was life and excitement in the Outer Court of the
Temple. Here booths and stalls had been erected for traffic in
everything from oil and wine to graven earrings, and although such was
forbidden, yet for more than half a century had the House of Annas
grown rich from the tax on Temple traffic and no man had dared speak
openly against it.
Not only was this income great, but there were yet greater returns from
the tables of the money-changers. From all portions of the world came
devout Jews to the Passover each contributing his compulsory half
shekel tribute money. As this tax money must by law be paid in Hebrew
coin, the money-changing business was established and the favored ones
who were allowed to operate in the Temple took the best places which
they filled with chests and sacks of Hebrew money, mostly mites and
farthings, and with unfilled boxes and bags in which to store the
foreign coin taken in at an exorbitant exchange profit. While the
tradesmen and stock drivers had begun early to prepare for a season of
unusual profit making, the money-changers had not forgotten their
interests. Indeed, this aristocracy of profit makers had held council
but the night before and agreed on the price of exchange and the extra
soldiery necessary for handling such troublesome strangers as might
raise objections should a spurious coin lodge in an honest palm. Among
the money-lenders none was more keenly alive to his own interests than
Zador Ben Amon who by gift-giving and cunning had secured a place for
his long table near the steps leading from the Outer Court up to the
Beautiful Gate. In addition to this choice place of business, Ben Amon
had a gold and silver shop on the other side of the Outer Court and
half a dozen more scattered through the city. In each of these places
he had trusted salesmen and trusted watchers all of whom he himself
watched.
It was early on the morning following the day he had been publicly
proclaimed King with such a mighty demonstration, that Jesus made his
way over Olivet from Bethany to Jerusalem. As was his pleasure
oftentimes, he walked alone. The greater number who had followed him
the day before were Galileans and those who camped with them beyond the
city walls. These would not have business in the Temple until a later
hour nor did he expect recognition that would give him any publicity
from strangers or the busy tradesmen. Before the Golden Gate he paused
and lifted his eyes. On each side were handsome pillars said to have
been brought to Solomon by the Queen of Sheba. But he was not thinking
of these. Perhaps he heard the glad hosannahs ringing as they had
sounded but a day before. Perhaps it was the bleating of young lambs
he heard; perhaps the voice of a woman as she bade him not be late at
the day's dinner where he was to be an honored guest.
Standing but a moment he passed under the gate and through the city
streets to the Temple. As he entered the portals of Solomon's Porch
the babel of many tongues, the ring of hammers and the hoarse shouting
of cattle drivers reached his ear and prepared his eye for the picture
of activity it would behold in the Outer Court. With every step he
took, the noise and confusion grew. Wishing to study the crowd without
himself being seen, he climbed on to the marble balustrade of the Outer
Court where it ran between two pillars and in the niche thus made
concealed himself.
Directly across from where he stood was the table of Zador Ben Amon
with two servants already in charge and a watcher to keep his eye on
the chests and bags under the table. At this stand business had
already begun. A Roman Jew had just left with his good Hebrew coin,
and an Egyptian had come up, when a woman with two men stopped in front
of the Galilean so that he could no longer see the money-changing going
on. The woman wore the garb of a widow. One of the men was a scribe.
The other man was a Pharisee. The face of the woman was much troubled
and she plead with the scribe and the Pharisee. And when they would
have left her she clung to them and passed on thus into the crowd.
Very shortly after the three had passed the Galilean, he saw this same
scribe at the money table across the way. He seemed to be buying a bag
of coins, most likely mites for alms giving.
For half an hour the Galilean Rabbi watched the moving people from
where he stood. Then he left the place and went into the Woman's
Court. As there could be no traffic carried on here, there were few
people and less noise, and he had not gone far when he heard some one
weeping. He soon found it to be the widow he had seen a short time
before. Without hesitation he approached her. "Why weepest thou?" he
asked.
"The inheritance of my father hath been taken from me. The mother of
six small men children I am and my husband hath died. And now no place
of shelter have I."
"Who hath taken thy home?"
"The scribe took it not--so sayeth he. The Pharisee took it not--so
sayeth he. But the two of them have taken my shelter to satisfy the
Law--so say they."
"A scribe and a Pharisee. They are wolves in sheep's clothing!"
"Yea--but doth this get back for me my inheritance? Canst thou help
me? My husband hath died and I am defrauded of all I possess."
"Silver and gold have I none--yet shall there be a reckoning!"
"My shelter is taken! My husband is dead and there is none to defend
me!" and the woman turned her face again to the wall and wept bitterly.
The Galilean stood for a moment. Then he turned back and crossed the
Outer Court coming into the porch. Here the sound of a trumpet
attracted his attention. It was a Pharisee announcing his time of
prayer. And when a crowd had gathered the Pharisee threw back his head
and beat his breast until his frontlet dangled, and he thanked God he
was not as other men. And lo, it was the one who had robbed the widow.
The Galilean felt the flush of anger heat his cheek and he clenched his
fist as in childhood days he had done when some injustice demanded
relief at his hands. With rising indignation he watched the Pharisee
until a part of his long and carefully worded prayer had been told into
the ear of the public.
As Jesus passed down the steps at no great distance he heard shouting
and scuffling. Here he saw the scribe who had purchased coins from the
table of Zador Ben Amon. A crowd of beggars had gathered and when the
lawyer threw out the coins there was a great scramble and shoving and
cursing. Those who picked up a coin shouted. Those who found none,
fought. As a coin rolled toward the young Rabbi he picked it up and a
look of surprise showed on his face as he examined it. Then again rose
his anger and indignation, for the coin was spurious, as he soon found
others to be.
Again he clenched his fist and the impulse came to strike, but he put
it away and leaving the Temple turned his feet toward a narrow back
street where the poverty-stricken swarmed. Here the pallid faces of
the hungry, and the maimed bodies of many men told something of the
suffering inflicted on these poor by the late wars. As he made his way
through this district, the heart of Jesus was bowed under a great
weight which was growing heavier and heavier as he acquainted himself
with the mass suffering. Following a narrow street to a side gate he
went beyond the city walls into a place of stony valleys and gloomy
ravines that made the quarries and pools of Jerusalem. In this place,
fed by waters running through a subterranean passage from a fountain,
was the Pool of Siloam. Gathered here on the broad stone steps that
ran to the water's edge, was the outcast poor and the crippled. For a
time the Galilean looked upon the scene of helplessness and pain with
eyes of infinite compassion and pity, then turning his back on the
basin of Siloam's misery, he lifted his eyes to Zion on the Mount and
with a long deep sigh exclaimed: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem!"
Retracing his steps, Kedron came into view and again he paused. As he
looked into the valley the stream ran brown. To-morrow it would carry
clots of rosy foam under which the current would be dark and ruddy.
Even as he looked upon it, the lambs were bleating in the stalls. The
picture of the bloody sacrifice came before him--the awe-inspiring
congregation of two hundred thousand of 'God's chosen ones.' At the
ninth hour three blasts of the silver trumpet would start the surging
chant of five thousand Levites and signal the beginning of the
slaughter. And in the next six hours two hundred thousand lambs must
be slain and carried away from the gate.
"What availeth all this?" he said to himself.
When Jesus reentered the Temple, several hours had passed. The noise
in the Outer Court had now grown to a deafening roar. Cattle were
lowing and lambs bleating. Men shouted and cursed when an affrighted
animal broke its tether. The voices of other men were heard calling
their wares at shop entrances and booths, and the air was heavy with
the stench of goats and cattle dung. Making his way through the crowd
he found the niche between the pillars and again stepped into it to
look for a few moments upon the scene of uproar and confusion. There
was nothing to indicate a place of worship. Rather was it a great
bazaar of shops with competition so keen at times as to give promise of
the use of fists. In addition to the stalls of lambs and pigeons and
the booths of oil and wine and wheat required for the sacrifices, there
were stands for vase sellers, brass and copper dealers, dealers in
ovens, dishes and bottles, silk merchants and jewelers and traffickers
in imported goods.
The crowd was made up mostly of tradespeople and strangers with a
sprinkling of Temple Guards and here and there scribes and Pharisees.
The gleam of spear points of the Legion told that an extra guard had
been sent in from the Tower of Antonio, and Jesus noticed that this
guard was well established around the tables of the money-changers.
His eye turned again to the table directly in front of him and now for
the first time he saw its owner. He smiled at the memory of a startled
face looking at him in the dark from over a water-jar. But Zador Ben
Amon did not look his way now. He was busy passing on the value of
coins and in seeing that any who complained were well pushed out of the
way by soldiers, to be swallowed up by the crowd. For a time Jesus
watched the game. The last victim of the unscrupulous money-changer
was a Galilean peasant, whose travel-stained and shabby body covering,
bent shoulders and knotted hands bespoke poverty. When the change was
pressed into his hand he refused to accept it. There were words. The
peasant was ordered by Zador Ben Amon to move on. This he refused to
do. Guards were summoned and when the man, who had been robbed of his
one coin, still clamored for his money, he was cruelly beaten and
dragged away to the stocks.
The Galilean watching from the balustrade felt again the fierce anger
sweeping over him and he left his place of watching with his face
turned in the direction of the money-changers. As he crossed the court
he stopped at a goat pen. A dozen goats were just being brought in on
the shoulders of as many men. As the animals were pushed into the pen
the thongs that bound their legs were cast aside. Selecting a handful
of these Jesus pressed on. When he reached the table of Zador Ben
Amon, this mighty Sadducee was not in sight. But business was going on
and, quite near at hand, the Galilean watched the money-changing while
his quick fingers plaited a scourge, and the muscles of his arm called
him to action. He spoke no word and no man noticed the flush on his
face nor the fire in his eye until the hiss of the thong sang over the
heads of those about the table of Ben Amon and its stinging force fell
across those who bent over the money bags. There was a yell, and
another hissing of the thongs. Then the words rang out in a shout of
mighty condemnation, "Ye have made my Father's house _a den of
thieves_!" And the thong writhed and hissed and struck and stung and
the coin-laden tables were overturned with the ease and fury of an
enraged man brushing straw aside. Seeing the uproar about his table,
Zador Ben Amon pushed his way through the confusion just in time to see
two well filled money bags kicked open by a fellow money-changer trying
to escape the scourge. With a shout and a curse he sprang forward. As
he did so the hiss of the burning thongs sounded in his ears and the
next instant he was blinded by the stinging pain of the scourge as
blood ran across his cheeks and into his well oiled beard.
With incredible swiftness the money-changers had been driven out and
the cleanser of the Temple had mounted the steps of the Beautiful Gate,
and thong in hand was looking out on a scene unparalleled. Servants of
money-changers were creeping about the floor; thieves were quickly at
work stealing from those who had stolen, and the money-changers
themselves, Zador Ben Amon with bloody face among them, were struggling
desperately to get possession of their bags before their contents
should be wholly appropriated by itching fingers. Running in and out
among the affrighted people were animals yet more affrighted whose
bleating and bellowing mingled with the outcries of men, while over the
heads of them all flocks of frightened doves with swift wing sought
escape to the open.
There was a call for guards, but the man pausing on the steps for a
passing moment only smiled as he saw them search for one who so boldly
stood before them. But if the guards knew not where to look for him,
there were those who saw, and in the commotion, when the question was
asked, "Who did this thing?" the answer was, "Jesus, the Prophet of
Nazareth of Galilee who hath been acclaimed King of the Jews. He hath
taken charge of the Temple! Let us see what cometh."
The first development from the confusion was the appearance of a number
of scribes, Pharisees and Chief Priests who made their way in a body to
the foot of the steps where he who had wrought the confusion stood.
Fear, surprise and anger in varying degree marked the faces of these
Temple officials. But their wrath was as nothing beside the righteous
indignation of him who stood, thong in hand, awaiting their coming.
They stopped at the foot of the steps--beyond reach of the weapon in
his hand. And from this safe distance they challenged his right and
his authority.
A moment he regarded them in silent scorn, then he twisted the whip
into a loose roll and flung it at their feet saying, "Woe unto you,
scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Ye shut up the Kingdom of Heaven
against men! Woe unto you, hypocrites! Ye devour widows' houses and
for a pretense make long prayers. Therefore ye shall receive the
greater damnation! Woe unto ye, blind guides! Ye pay the tithe of
mint and anise and cummin and omit the weightier matters of the
Law,--judgment, mercy and faith. Ye blind guides which strain at a
gnat and swallow a camel! Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees,
hypocrites! Ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter,
but within they are full of extortion and excess! Woe, woe unto you!
Ye are like whited sepulchres which indeed appear beautiful outward but
within are full of dead men's bones! Woe unto you, scribes, Pharisees,
hypocrites! Ye build tombs for the prophets and garnish the sepulchres
of the righteous while ye yourselves be children of them which _killed_
the prophets! Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers! Ye
serpents! How can ye escape the damnation of hell? Ye generation of
vipers!"
A murmur was heard from the crowd which threatened to grow into a
mighty demonstration, when, beginning on the outer edge, it died
suddenly. In its place was heard the measured tramp of feet and the
clanking of arms. As if a magic wand had been extended over the
people, the mass separated in the middle, forming an aisle through
which came the High Priest's guard of Roman spearmen. Tongues stopped
wagging. Something was going to happen. The tinkle of golden bells
told that the High Priest himself approached, and every eye was turned
to look upon him. Imperious in the splendor of his exalted office he
made his way. His robe of blue and purple and scarlet, his gorgeous
colored coat, his purple mitre and above all the sacred breast-plate
sparkling with its twelve emblematic jewels as it hung in place on blue
cords through gold rings, were in strong contrast to the plain and worn
garment of the man who waited under the high arch of the Beautiful Gate
with arms folded across his breast. An intense stillness fell over the
gathering--such a hush as marked the circus arena in Rome when
gladiatorial combatants came together in the death-struggle. As Annas,
the All-Powerful head of God's elect priesthood, neared the end of the
open path cut through the throng, the Galilean lifted his eyes from the
surrounding scene and entered into some high place of communion. The
flush of anger left his face. The calm of the Eternal took its place,
and the High Priest with his Roman spearmen lined behind him stood
without recognition for a moment. When the Galilean turned his eyes on
Annas he looked down as if from some vast height.
The lips of the High Priest moved, but something in the majestic mien
and unfathomable eye of the one before him stopped the words
half-formed. A second and third time his tongue raised itself to shape
words, but the silent one before him gave unuttered command for
silence. The conflict was on. Not a conflict of gleaming blades; not
a conflict of cunning, neither of Senatorial oratory, nor contention of
the wise gone mad. In the arena of the occult was the conflict on
between such forces as move constellations and give birth to worlds.
And the one force was white and the one was black. The one was the
will of God leading by way of man's reason to Liberty and Life. The
other was perversion leading by way of servile obedience to Bondage and
Death. The one was Reality; the other but the Passing Show. So
intense was the conflict of these unseen forces that it drew the
multitude into its silent circle and held it spellbound. On the face
of Annas alone was the progress of the fierce and deadly conflict
written in terms of such hatred as made him appear almost inhuman. Yet
the destructive force of the terrible vibration he sent out touched not
the poise and calm of the Galilean, but after the law of like force it
followed the arc of its own circle back into the breast that wore the
twelve-jeweled breast-plate.
The nerve strain that seemed tearing the soul of the High Priest was
communicating itself to the congregation when the tense and awful
stillness was broken by a shout. "Thou art the King!" a mighty voice
called above the heads of the people. "Jesus of Nazareth, thou art the
King!"
With an involuntary sigh of relief the people turned from the silent
actors in the drama taking place under the Beautiful Gate, to learn who
had spoken. A third time the shout rang out: "Thou art the King!" Now
the people saw. It was a fisherman supported above the crowd on the
shoulders of two Galileans. He shook a dingy red head-cloth as he
shouted. The suppressed feeling of the crowd now gave way to a great
murmur like that of a sea with a tide turning in, but before there was
a demonstration a wild cry sounded through the court.
A soldier standing beneath the shouting fisherman had bent his body
backward, as he gave command for silence, that he might the better face
him who did the unlawful act. Casting his eye down as the soldier
prodded him on the leg, the fisherman saw something that changed the
shout on his lips to a curse. The next instant, as if it had been
hurled from the heavens, the keen, two-edged blade of a fishing knife
had lodged its point in the heart of the Roman. While the dying cries
of the spearman yet moved the multitude to frenzied curiosity, Jael the
fisherman, the High Priest and Jesus of Nazareth, each according to his
own way, left the Temple.