The Last Temple

by Hank Hanegraaff

  “Soon enough,” Vitas said, “the city will be in Roman hands. You will have every escort needed to search.”

  “That is not the primary reason I am here. I had to see for myself that Rome is on the verge of taking the city that all the world had once believed was impossible to conquer. And now that I have no doubt of its fate, I have no choice but to do what is necessary for my people.”

  Ben-Aryeh reached into his tunic and pulled out a small object. He handed it to Vitas, who stared at it in disbelief, recalling the words he’d heard just after being taken down from a cross in Caesarea.

  “Wear this around your neck, and keep it safe. If someone comes to you with its twin, you will know that I have sent him. And when that person sees you with the same token, he will know you are the one to trust with the obligations put upon you. Until then, keep this portion of our conversation secret. From everyone. Not even Bernice or Titus or Ruso should know of it.”

  “I trust,” Ben-Aryeh said, taking back the token, “that you have its twin?”

  Vespera

  After slowly picking their way down the Mount of Olives in the deepening purple that settled on the valley, Vitas and Ben-Aryeh reached the outer wall of the Tenth Legion in near dark. Beyond the sentries, the lights of fires were plainly visible.

  Vitas gave the day’s password to the sentries, and Ben-Aryeh followed Vitas through the camp to a tent pitched at the center, near the general’s tent that belonged to Titus.

  A lone man—Joseph Ben-Matthias—sat near a small fire, gazing at the flames. He stood as soon as he recognized Vitas and Ben-Aryeh in the flickering light.

  “Welcome back from exile,” Ben-Matthias said, holding his arms out to embrace Ben-Aryeh. “I wish circumstances were different.”

  Vitas had had the half-hour journey down the mountain to absorb the knowledge that Ben-Aryeh held the other token, but that was all he knew about the situation. After showing the token to Vitas, Ben-Aryeh had refused to answer any other questions, stating the next discussions would take place only when they’d met with Ben-Matthias.

  Jerusalem, Vitas had pondered in the silence of their trek, was not much different from Rome. At the top, those in power formed a small circle. He should not have been surprised that Ben-Aryeh, formerly among the high priests and a confidant of Bernice, had been the one chosen by Ben-Matthias, also among the high priests and also a confidant of Bernice.

  Vitas, accordingly, had expected a cordial meeting between Ben-Aryeh and Ben-Matthias and had been looking forward to satisfying his curiosity about the strange tokens.

  Instead, Ben-Aryeh’s actions and answer to Ben-Matthias startled Vitas.

  “I am only here because of these circumstances,” Ben-Aryeh snapped with vehemence, refusing to step forward to accept Ben-Matthias’s embrace. “The impossible is now possible. The Temple is in danger of falling to the Romans. Vitas is one of the few Romans I trust, and he has confirmed for me that the military situation demands final and desperate measures.”

  Ben-Aryeh gave a bitter laugh as he continued addressing Ben-Matthias. “You, on the other hand, don’t seem to have any problems trusting the heathens. From prison to the emperor’s most valued Jew. Life is more precious to you than honor?”

  And Ben-Matthias’s answer was equally startling to Vitas. “You self-righteous old Jew. I’m not the one who fled Jerusalem.”

  “Fled? You well know I’d been accused, falsely, of rape. Should a man accept that punishment?”

  “If honor was so important, why not stay to protect it? Instead, all of Jerusalem now remembers you only for the crime you committed.”

  “The crime I was accused of committing,” Ben-Aryeh said. “You know as well as I do that Annas needed me gone to grasp at the power he wanted.”

  “Does it matter to those still in the city whether you committed the crime? Perception is their reality. You fled. They assume you are guilty. And a coward.”

  “And they shout your name with adulation from the city walls as you parade back and forth with the Romans?” Ben-Aryeh sneered at Ben-Matthias. “Do you sleep well in camp, fed by the Romans like a lapdog?”

  “And did you sleep well in the household of your Roman benefactor in Alexandria?”

  Vitas finally stepped between them. “Let me tell you something about Vespasian.”

  They gave him silence to continue.

  “Just before the revolt against Nero,” Vitas said, “Vespasian had the city surrounded. He was urged to attack Jerusalem. His reply was that it was easier to let the Jews fight among themselves inside the city and do his work for him. Even after he withdrew because of the events in Rome, the Jews continued to fight. Watching just two of you together, I can now guess what it’s like when there are thousands of you.”

  “How dare you—” Ben-Matthias began.

  “You cannot speak to us like that,” Ben-Aryeh said, interrupting. “Ben-Matthias comes from a distinguished family, and—”

  “And Ben-Aryeh is known far and wide for his devotion to God,” Ben-Matthias said.

  Vitas held his ground. “There. You prove another point. Vespasian said that if he attacked Jerusalem, it would only serve to unite them against him. Like you two turning your anger upon me.”

  Silence. Some of the embers in the brazier crackled. Like the tension among all three men. Then Ben-Aryeh began to laugh. Ben-Matthias joined in, and the tension was broken.

  When the laughter subsided, Ben-Matthias apologized to Ben-Aryeh. “My anger was misplaced. Yes, abuse is shouted at me from the walls of the city. A few weeks ago, a spear hit me in the shoulder. Too many believe I am a traitor, and you were the one I could lash out against. Let me tell you, at least, why I walk around the city every day with Titus.”

  “My own anger is not against you, either,” Ben-Aryeh said. “Seeing the city and the earthworks and ramparts fills me with rage and frustration. You are an easier target than the soldiers.”

  Ben-Aryeh held out his arms, and they embraced for long moments.

  “Perhaps a kiss or two while you are so close?” Vitas asked.

  Ben-Aryeh pushed away and growled at Vitas. “Don’t push it.” He turned to Ben-Matthias. “I had heard that after you were captured at Jotapata, Vespasian brought you forward, and you told him of a prophecy—that he would be emperor.”

  “A cynic would think I was currying favor,” Ben-Matthias said. “But I did have the vision. He believed me because he learned that well before Jotapata fell, I had predicted the siege would last forty-seven days. And it had been correct.”

  “Still, he put you in chains.”

  “Two years,” Ben-Matthias said.

  Two years. After conquering Jotapata, Vespasian had easily taken city after city, moving unobstructed to put his legions in place around Jerusalem. He’d retreated with those legions when the first news of impending civil war reached him.

  With Nero’s death, the head had been cut off the empire that the Jews called the great beast. Galba had become emperor, marching into Rome and parading Helius in chains before having him thrown into the Tiber. But Galba’s arrogance and refusal to pay his soldiers resulted in rebellion again, and Galba’s reign was short. He’d proven that emperors could be declared outside of Rome, and the sword he’d used to take the throne was the same sword that destroyed him. German legions proclaimed Vitellius emperor. In Rome, Otho bribed the Praetorian Guard to murder Galba, and the Senate proclaimed Otho emperor, commissioning him to defeat the German legions and end the civil war.

  Instead, it had worsened. The great beast went into death throes, as legions once used to defend the empire turned on each other. The army of Vitellius won the battle, leading Otho to suicide. Vitellius now had the power to march on Rome, and the Senate quickly recognized him as the new emperor.

  Yet other legions refused to accept the Senate’s decision, meaning the civil war had been on the verge of totally destroying the empire. In Egypt and Syria, the legions favored Vespasian, who had cautiousl
y waited in Alexandria, effectively holding Rome’s grain supply hostage. The legions once loyal to Otho declared for Vespasian, who was reluctant to pit legions against legions.

  This wisdom and caution saved the empire from destruction. Troops loyal to Vespasian caught and killed Vitellius, and Vespasian’s popularity, strength, and reputation restored the peace. Vespasian remained in Rome and charged his son Titus to end the revolt in Judea.

  “When the legions declared Vespasian emperor, he remembered my prediction,” Ben-Matthias continued. “Titus pleaded my case before his father, and I was given freedom.”

  “Titus pleaded your case?” Ben-Aryeh asked. Then chuckled. “Or Queen Bernice?”

  War, Vitas thought, was much more than military machines. War was about the generals who controlled the machines. While wars had been declared for practical purposes such as appropriating resources or defending borders, wars had also been declared by these men for other reasons: ego, passion, insults, or perceived insults.

  The situation here reflected that reality. While Titus had the massive military power of Rome in his control, he was making some decisions because of the woman he loved. Bernice favored Ben-Matthias, and thus so did Titus.

  “Given my freedom,” Ben-Matthias answered, avoiding Ben-Aryeh’s comment, “I returned to giving the same counsel to our people that I had from the beginning. You’ll recall at the beginning of the revolt, I took the stand that it was useless to fight Rome. It’s even more apparent now. Yes, I stand by the side of Titus. But it is simply to plead for our people and Jerusalem. Ask anyone. Titus has repeatedly offered generous terms of surrender. But within the city, there are those who continuously give prophecies that God will save the Jews because he has promised us the Messiah. My own mother is in a prison inside the city; I implore the people to live at peace with Rome.”

  “‘People will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory,’” Ben-Aryeh said. He paused, knowing Ben-Matthias understood the significance. “I am coming closer and closer to believing that perhaps the Nazarene was the Messiah. He called down this punishment on Jerusalem the night he was condemned.”

  “Some might say,” Ben-Matthias replied, “it was easy to predict that the arrogance and hard-heartedness of the religious leaders would eventually bring down the wrath of Rome.”

  “But to see Jerusalem actually fall,” Ben-Aryeh countered. “The walls, the water, the food. Tiny Jotapata withstood three legions for forty-seven days. Jerusalem should have lasted a decade. Could any man have foreseen that civil war inside the city would result in one faction burning the food supply to starve out the other?”

  Ben-Matthias spoke quietly. “I will make no judgment on this, but Titus has told me privately that he believes the Romans have had divine help to bring Jerusalem to the edge of destruction.”

  “That’s what I fear most,” Ben-Aryeh said. “And that’s why I’m here.”

  “I was wondering,” Ben-Matthias said. “I knew you wouldn’t tell me until you were ready.”

  Without further words, Ben-Aryeh held out the token for Ben-Matthias. The younger Jew squatted at the fire to examine it.

  “You?” Ben-Matthias said to Ben-Aryeh. “You are the one behind the messages?”

  And once again, Vitas was surprised, for he assumed Ben-Aryeh had been sent to him by Ben-Matthias.

  “I,” Ben-Aryeh said. “And those with me who feared that someday Jerusalem might fall.”

  “Finally I can learn what this is all about,” Ben-Matthias said.

  Vitas absorbed this and the implications. Ben-Aryeh did not serve Ben-Matthias. Instead, Ben-Matthias served Ben-Aryeh, and Ben-Matthias was as unaware of the reasons as Vitas was.

  This was confirmed immediately as the older Jew answered the younger one.

  “No,” Ben-Aryeh replied. “Too much is at stake for you to ever know more than you already do. Instead, I expect that you will give me your full loyalty and all the help that I require to get back into the city. Without any questions about my purpose.”

  Ben-Aryeh turned to Vitas. “And you, my friend, will have an opportunity to search inside for your brother if you give the same loyalty and help.”

  Jupiter

  Hora Prima

  “I’m tired of all this death.” Titus pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger for a few seconds, but a pained expression remained on his face. “Last night, about two thousand women and children and old men were killed. It’s like their own God is punishing them in the worst way possible.”

  Although Mount Olivet kept the camp in the shadow of the sun’s first rising, dawn’s early light spread fingers of pink clouds above them. Vitas stood at ease in front of Titus, as was usual each day, for Titus liked having a person he could trust for honest opinions.

  “I am as tired of death as you are,” Vitas said. “The smell of it hangs over the city like a cloud. But if they won’t surrender, we can’t prevent them from killing themselves.”

  “The two thousand did not die in the city,” Titus said. “Our own men—Arabians and Syrians—were responsible.”

  Titus rubbed his face with both hands. He sighed. “You know I’ve made it a policy that any deserters who are not fighters may slip past our walls.”

  Vitas nodded. Famine was sending them out in droves. They risked their lives to escape Jerusalem and flee through the open zone to the Roman walls that surrounded the city, for Jewish defenders would try to kill them for deserting.

  Once through the Roman enclosure, they were provided food. Some of them, unable to restrain themselves, took in food so quickly that their near-starved bodies and tightened bellies did not survive.

  “I’m told that some of the Syrians noticed an old woman digging through her own excrement,” Titus continued. “They realized she was looking for gold coins she had swallowed for safety before leaving Jerusalem.”

  Vitas rubbed his own face. He could guess what happened next, and Titus confirmed it.

  “Word immediately went through the other camps that every Jew was full of gold. The Syrians and Arabians have a natural enmity for the Jews, and they spent the entire night killing them and slitting their bellies open to search for more gold.”

  Vitas groaned.

  “Unfortunately, Rome will take the blame for this,” Titus said. “What I would like to do is surround those Syrians and Arabians with horses, then shoot them dead with arrows. But there are too many of them. We’d end up warring among ourselves, and at this point in the siege, that would do me more harm than good. I see no choice but to put practicality over justice.”

  “By choosing practicality, you are also choosing a different justice,” Vitas said. “The longer the siege continues, the more women and children will die. The sooner you get through the walls and destroy the fighting force inside, the more women and children you will spare. Thus, you bring justice to those still alive. Anyone would understand that. Bernice included.”

  “I do not make my decisions based on keeping her happy,” Titus snapped.

  “Don’t fool yourself.” Vitas knew that Titus intended to return to Rome with Bernice and marry her. “You are also motivated by a promise to help her people where possible.”

  “I am motivated by the realization that Rome functions by destroying enemies and helping allies. When this war is over, we still want taxes from Judea.”

  “That rationalization will sound good in Rome when you return for a triumph.”

  Titus suddenly grinned. “Trust me, that’s not what I tell Bernice.” The grin just as quickly disappeared. “But this problem is bigger than the slaughter of women and children. Right?”

  “If you continue to let any segment of your army loot and plunder at will, you risk losing your authority.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Are you asking my advice?”

  Titus nodded.

  “I will answer you as a soldier, but keep in mind, I am also a brother to a man who may still be alive insi
de the city,” Vitas said. “So I have a personal stake here.”

  Once again, Titus nodded.

  “Call the auxiliary commanders together and tell them that Rome will not permit a foreign army to indulge in unauthorized looting,” Vitas said. “Warn them that anyone who does so again will be executed. Send our soldiers among the Syrians and Arabians to confiscate the gold. They will fight us to protect their lives, but they won’t risk death to protect gold, especially if they are promised a fair share in the gold from Jerusalem when it falls. You keep peace among all the armies here, and your authority is not compromised.”

  “Wise words,” Titus said. “Thank you.”

  “You won’t consider me wise when I make a request. I’d like permission to enter the city.”

  “That’s not unreasonable,” Titus told him. “In a day or two, we’ll break through the first wall. I can give you an escort.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” Vitas said. “I need to get in before your soldiers. If Damian is alive . . .”

  “You have lost your sanity,” Titus said. “Every male over the age of fifteen in that city is armed and ready to kill any foreigners. Allowing you inside too early is like sending you to your death.”

  Any other man would have decided not to argue. Titus, after all, was the son of the emperor. But they were friends first, soldiers second, and Vitas knew that Titus would not consider him insubordinate for arguing. “As you know, I am obligated to Ben-Aryeh for protecting Sophia. Ben-Aryeh’s wife is in the city. Ben-Aryeh wants my help to get inside. In return, he can keep me safe. He is a man of great influence among the Jews of Jerusalem.”

  Titus shook his head. “No. I’m not going to give you permission.”

  Vitas nodded. “Anything else to discuss?”

  “No,” Titus said.

  Vitas turned to walk out of the tent.

  “Wait,” Titus said. Vitas stopped and looked at his friend. “You’ll go anyway, won’t you?”

  “That would be insubordination.”