The Galileans: A Novel of Mary Magdalene

by Frank G. Slaughter

  The priests seemed paralyzed by this unheard of thing, and the faces of the small knot of disciples around Jesus showed their horror at what He was doing. Once or twice one of them put out a hand as if to restrain their leader, but drew back in the face of the Master’s anger.

  Joseph had never seen Jesus so angry before. His eyes burned, and His movements as He tumbled the flimsy tables to the floor and wrecked the stalls were purposeful and strong. Only when He had made the circuit of one side of the terrace did He stop and face the crowd. Those nearest Him quailed before His wrath then and tried to back away. “It is written,” He shouted at them, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’; but you make it a den of robbers!”

  The next day, Jesus went to the temple and taught from Solomon’s Porch, which was reserved for teachers and their students. But whereas the other teachers were surrounded daily by a set group of devoted adherents, those who came to hear Jesus overflowed the porch and the steps of the lower terrace, spilling out into the streets. And as always, the sick outnumbered the well.

  During the hours that He taught, all temple functions were forced to come to a halt, for the crowd was so great that pilgrims could not pass in and out of the temple. The flow of money died to a mere trickle, and when the high priest appeared to inspect the gathering, hardly anyone noticed him. To a man like Caiaphas, this was the ultimate insult, an even greater one than that a lowly Nazarene dared to usurp the place of Jerusalem’s most famous exponents of the law.

  As they had in Galilee, the priests, Pharisees, and scribes gathered around Jesus seeking to trap Him. “By what authority are you doing these things and who gave you this authority?” they demanded of Him.

  “I also will ask you a question,” Jesus told them. “And if you tell me the answer, then I also will tell you by what authority I do these things. The baptism of John, whence was it? From heaven or from men?”

  Joseph was standing nearby, for he was curious to see whether the religious experts of Jerusalem, who prided themselves on their detailed knowledge of the law and the history of their religion, would be any more able to trap Jesus in an argument than those of Galilee had been. He could hear them conferring among themselves: “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ He will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘From men,’ the crowd will turn on us, for the people themselves believe that John was a prophet.”

  Finally one of the priests admitted, “We do not know.”

  “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things,” Jesus said to them. He spoke to the crowd for a little while, then turned back to the Pharisees who were still pestering Him. “Truly I say unto you, the tax collectors and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him. But the tax collectors and the harlots believed him; and even when you saw it, you did not afterward repent and believe him.”

  The crowd murmured its approval of this thrust at the smugness and self-sufficiency of the Pharisees, who were not always popular with the common people because of their constant hemming in of man’s normal activities by their interpretation of the law. But the men of the law were accustomed to this dislike and kept boring in, ignoring the disapproval of the crowds.

  “Teacher,” one of them asked, “which is the great commandment in the law?”

  Jesus smiled faintly, and Joseph could see that He understood the purpose of the question. Once He admitted that one portion of the great mass of rules by which the strictly pious Jews lived was more important than another, He would be exposing Himself to endless questions on minor details.

  “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind,” He said simply. “This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the law and the prophets.”

  Jesus asked some of the Pharisees who were plaguing Him like gnats plague a man in the summer, “What do you think of the Christ? Whose son is He?”

  “The son of David?” one of them answered at once.

  “How is it then,” Jesus said, “that David, inspired by the Spirit, calls Him Lord, saying:

  The LORD said to my Lord:

  Sit at my right hand,

  till I make your enemies your footstool.

  “If David thus calls Him Lord,” Jesus continued, “how is He His son?”

  The Pharisees looked at each other in astonishment, but none tried to answer.

  “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat,” Jesus said, turning to the crowd and to His disciples, who sat on the steps at His feet. “So practice and observe whatever they tell you, but not what they do; for they preach but do not practice. They bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by men; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. And they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues, and salutations in the marketplaces, and being called rabbi by men.

  “But you are not to be called rabbi,” His voice rang out. “For you have one Teacher and you are all brethren. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ. He who is greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled, and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.”

  And now His voice was that of a judge imposing sentence upon wrongdoers: “But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Because you shut the kingdom of heaven against men; for you neither enter yourselves, nor allow those who would enter to go in. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you traverse sea and land to make a single proselyte, and when he becomes a proselyte, you make him twice as much a child of hell as yourselves.”

  The Pharisees squirmed and their faces were red with embarrassment. Jesus was pointing out with inexorable logic the pettiness and unimportance of the very things they had elevated upon an equal plane with the worship of God Himself. The crowd was enjoying this lecture to these superior beings, too, chortling with delight at each point that Jesus made, and shouting their approval when the voice of denunciation continued:

  “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and anise and cummin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law, justice, mercy, and faith. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others, you blind guides, straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel!”

  The people roared their approval of this apt comparison, and for a moment Jesus could not continue because of the tumult. It was the first time Joseph had seen the Nazarene really angry. His eyes sparkled now with indignation as He made His points one by one, denouncing the cringing Pharisees, priests, and scribes who had dared decide for themselves what constituted the true worship of God.

  “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” The damning phrase lashed the men around Him like a whip. “For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. So you also outwardly appear righteous to men, but within you are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.”

  Jesus paused, and when He spoke again, His voice was sad, all anger gone. “Therefore I send you prophets and wise men and scribes, some of whom you will kill and crucify. And some you will scourge in your synagogues and persecute from town to town, that upon you may come all the righteous blood shed on earth, from the blood of innocent Abel to the blood of Zechariah the son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the sanctuary and the altar. Truly I say to you, all this will come upon this generation.

  “O Jerusalem! O Jerusalem!” It was the same cry Joseph had heard Him utter on the shores of the lake, when the
Pharisees had tormented Him for a sign. “Killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you! Behold, your house is forsaken and desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.’” Jesus stood up suddenly and swung His arm in a wide sweeping gesture that encompassed the great temple upon the hill, with its gleaming marble and gold, and the beautiful white city around it. “You see all these, do you not? Truly I say to you, there will not be left one stone upon another, that will not be thrown down.” Then abruptly He left the temple, descending the steps without looking to either side or speaking.

  Mary and a number of the other women were staying in Joseph’s house, while the men, except a few who were closest to Jesus and remained with Him always, were quartered on the adjoining estate belonging to Nicodemus. Although the lawyer had definitely become a follower of the Nazarene Teacher, he still kept his position in the Great Sanhedrin. Nicodemus came over that evening to where Joseph and Mary were walking in the garden. His face was grave as he greeted them.

  “Why so sad?” Mary asked him, smiling. “Joseph tells me you are one of us, and those who follow Jesus know a joy to be found nowhere else.”

  “The whole temple area is seething with the news that the Master administered a tongue lashing this morning to the priests and to the scribes and Pharisees,” Nicodemus said. “Now they will hate Him more than ever.”

  “I was there,” Joseph volunteered. “He flayed them mercilessly, but justly.”

  “The smaller the soul, the greater the hatred for those who show up that smallness for all to see,” Nicodemus said. “The political Sanhedrin met this afternoon. They would bring Jesus before the council and stone Him if they dared.”

  “The crowd would not let them,” Mary protested. “The people who love Jesus outnumber the priests and the scribes, and even the Pharisees. They would drive the Sadducees from the temple and from the city if they tried to harm a hair of His head.”

  “Fear of the crowd is all that holds Caiaphas back,” Nicodemus agreed. “That, plus the fact that Pontius Pilate is not in Jerusalem.”

  “Would he dare send for Pilate?” Joseph asked quickly.

  Nicodemus shook his head. “Pilate will be here anyway. He comes during the Passover, and always with extra soldiers, in case the crowd becomes unruly.”

  “What can Caiaphas do?” Mary asked. “We guard the Master so closely that even the sicarii cannot get to Him.”

  “And besides,” Joseph added, “a hired killer would be torn to pieces by the crowd as soon as his knife had struck. They all know that, so they are not likely to make an attempt upon His life here in Jerusalem.”

  “Caiaphas knows all those things,” Nicodemus agreed. “Yet he can hardly let Jesus keep on building up a following when so many zealots are in Jerusalem. Particularly since they now have a leader.”

  “Simon Zelotes!” Mary cried. “In Bethsaida he was ready to proclaim Jesus king.”

  Nicodemus shook his head. “Simon the Zealot is not the real leader. You forget the man of Kerioth.”

  “Judas? But he says little. It is always Simon who speaks.”

  “And tells what Judas orders him,” Nicodemus added. “But I think we can be sure what the high priest will do.”

  “What is that?”

  “The law is a bludgeon that the priests and the Pharisees hold over the people, since only they can interpret it legally. Jesus cannot speak very often as bluntly as He did today without breaking at least some of the oral law. And when He does, they will accuse Him of blasphemy. Nothing excites the crowd so much as a charge of blasphemy or of speaking against the temple.”

  Joseph felt a sudden chill of premonition, for he was remembering the words of Jesus that very morning, “Truly I say to you, there will not be left one stone upon another, that will not be thrown down.”

  When he told Nicodemus and Mary of it, the lawyer’s face became very grave. “Let us pray that Caiaphas does not learn the Master’s exact words,” he said. “Even Jesus might not be able to save Himself if He is accused of blasphemy against the temple of God.”

  Mary shivered, and Joseph put his arm around her. He knew that she was remembering the day when Jesus alone had saved her from the stoning. Both of them knew what the fury of a mob could mean. Nor, as Nicodemus had said, would the present favor of Jesus with the common people of Israel necessarily save even Him from such a fate. Against Him would be arrayed the hangers-on around the temple, the keepers of the stalls that infested the lower level, the money-changers, the animal and spice sellers, even the sellers of scrolls, and all the hundreds of others who lived by the temple and the business that came to them as a result of it. They were wealthy and influential people, and once a sufficient mob of them had been gathered together to make a common front against a man they had every natural reason to hate, violence could break out at any time.

  “What do you think we should do, Nicodemus?” Mary asked.

  “Jesus must leave Jerusalem,” the lawyer said emphatically. “I see no other answer.”

  “But the people are flocking to Him, and He gains new followers every day.”

  “I know that,” Nicodemus admitted. “But most of them are either Zealots or sympathetic to the Zealot cause.”

  “You are closest to Him of all the women in His following, Mary,” Joseph suggested. “Perhaps you could persuade Him to leave. Jesus must realize that you are one of the few who love Him for what He is, without any thought of gain.”

  “Both of you love Him unselfishly,” she pointed out.

  “You have accepted Him as the Christ,” he said. “But for some reason I cannot yet be sure in my heart that He is the Expected One.”

  “When the time comes for you to see the Messiah in Jesus, you will be sure,” Mary said confidently. “It is something each of us must experience for himself. The Master will be returning from Bethany in the morning,” she went on, “and I will try to persuade Him to leave Jerusalem. But somehow I think He may already be planning to go.”

  Nicodemus looked at her in astonishment, but Joseph had learned how reliable was this deep understanding she seemed to have of the Nazarene Teacher and His purposes.

  “Why do you say that, Mary?” Nicodemus asked.

  “Jesus’ success here in Jerusalem is great, perhaps greater than it ever was in Galilee,” Mary said. “But who comes to Him? The Pharisees who seek to trap Him. The priests of the Sadducees who hate Him. The sick who want to be healed. And the Zealots, who see in Him a Messiah to lead them against Rome. Only a few follow Him because He teaches a kingdom greater than anything that could be established on earth—the kingdom of God in men’s hearts.”

  The men were silent, for no one could deny the force of her logic. “Once before,” she continued, “Jesus went away when they would crown Him king in Galilee. I think He will do the same again. Unless—” She stopped, and a look of great sadness came into her face. “Unless He knows He can show men the meaning of the kingdom of God only by dying for it Himself.”

  “Being the Messiah, He must know it,” Nicodemus said logically. “If that is what must take place.”

  “He has predicted it Himself,” Joseph pointed out. “And you have all heard Him say a prophet should not die outside Jerusalem.”

  “This must all be part of a pattern,” Mary said thoughtfully. “Being the Christ, Jesus could save Himself if He would. But having decided that He must die to make people understand why He came to earth, He will not use that power.”

  “Then we can do nothing,” Joseph said sadly.

  “You may be right,” Mary agreed. “But I will speak to Him as soon as I can. Perhaps He will tell me what is to happen.”

  “In any event, Caiaphas dares not arrest Him now,” Nicodemus added. “So we will have time to make plans to protect the Master if
He refuses to leave the city.”

  But there, as it happened, Nicodemus was in error.

  XVII

  Joseph and Mary both felt that it was important now to have someone they could depend upon in the temple city to keep informed about what was happening there. “Take care, Joseph,” she begged as they were saying good-bye. “You have made a bitter enemy in Caiaphas by saving Jesus. He may try to punish you.”

  “I think not,” he assured her. “Jesus answered the Pharisees this morning and proved that there was no blasphemy in what He said. Remember last winter when they were trying to arouse the crowd to stone Him, so they could get rid of Him without being blamed for His death? Caiaphas would have to bring me before the Sanhedrin, and then it would come out that he tried to have Jesus murdered by the crowd.”

  He stopped, but Mary saw that something was troubling him and asked, “What is it, Joseph?”

  “One thing troubles me,” he admitted. “The Christ could have stopped that riot and walked through them without being touched, but Jesus made no move to do so. It is not so much that I doubt, Mary. I only want to understand what really happened.”

  “Cleansing the temple may have been His last act in Jerusalem before putting the city behind Him,” she said. “Remember that He did not object to leaving Jerusalem, so He must have been ready to go.”

  “But the prophecy—”

  “That He would be killed in Jerusalem? Yes, I have thought of that too. But remember, He did not say when. He merely said, ‘The Son of Man will be delivered to the chief priests and to the scribes, and they will condemn Him to death, and deliver Him to the Gentiles; and they will mock Him and spit upon Him and scourge Him and kill Him.’ We cannot always understand the will of God, Joseph, but we can obey it because it is always just and right.”