Chapter 19

The little company, with Jesus in the midst of them, proceeded slowly toward the city. Straggling groups of pilgrims overtook and passed them, staring into the Master’s face with various expressions of sympathy, entreaty, disappointment and reproach. Many were in tears.

Little was said, for there was little to say, as they trudged along, each man busy with his own thoughts. Although it was dismayingly certain now that the spontaneous public clamour to recognize Jesus as the promised Messiah had been silenced beyond any possibility of its renewal, the disciples—albeit distressed over the whole affair—were breathing easier than yesterday. Then they had feared that a great crowd of Jesus’ admirers, surging about him in the streets of Jerusalem, would evoke the attention of the patrols, and the Master would be arrested—and punished as a disturber of the peace.

As it had turned out, Jesus had dealt with that situation before it had become acute. He was safer now than he might have been if this demonstration had not occurred. It was unlikely, they thought, that the authorities would take action against a movement which the Master himself had dissolved.

When they came to the East Gate and were about to enter the city, Jesus turned to say that they would go at once to the Temple. Peter smiled his gratification. Surely the authorities could find no fault with that. Had Jesus decided to ignore the Temple it might have aroused criticism. But, like any other pious pilgrim, he would pay his respects to the hallowed shrine of Jewry. The moody silence that had gripped them was eased somewhat and they conversed in voices that tried to sound casual. ‘There’s the Pool of Siloam, Johnny,’ remarked James. ‘That’s where Nehemiah began the rebuilding of the wall.’ ‘See—there’s Herod’s Tower,’ said Andrew. ‘Looks new,’ observed Philip, ‘compared to the rest of the buildings.’

The Temple was having a busy day. Everybody had brought a sacrificial offering, each according to his means. The beautiful court of the Temple, lined and walled with exquisite designs in mosaic, was crammed with the gifts of pilgrims: fat calves and lambs and large slatted pens full of doves. The air was heavy with animal stench and raucous with the bellowings of the cattle and the bleating of the sheep; and over all this racket shrilled the strident voices of the money-changers who were there to serve the donors. For very frequently a lamb was found to be blemished, and the astonished pilgrim, who had thought his offering was entirely sound, would be told that they could provide him with an unblemished lamb in exchange for a small cash difference. The pilgrim would glumly produce the money; but in many cases it was coinage of the provinces and countries even more remote. He had to present himself at the desks of the exchangers, who could ill afford to conduct this service free of charge. It was a sordid scene, especially to anyone from the open country, unused to such haggling within consecrated walls. Even if it had been entirely honest, which it wasn’t, this was not the place for it!

The Master’s indignation suddenly flared. Above the babel of voices and bellows, he shouted, ‘My Father’s House is a place of worship! You have made it a place of merchandise!’

Seizing a drover’s whip, he began to drive the animals out of the Temple Court. They stampeded toward the street, the crowd scurrying to give them room. The cages of the doves were thrown open and the birds were soon all over the building. Then the unscrupulous exchangers came in for their share of the rebuke. Jesus charged on them, upsetting their tables and money-tills.

The grim-faced companions of the Master retreated to the outer wall, astounded by his action. ‘This,’ muttered Peter, ‘will settle it! They will never forgive him!’

Nor did they.

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