But now, as Jesus walks past the tables piled high with coins and sees the people of Galilee standing helpless before these greedy money changers and the haughty high priests overseeing them, something in him snaps. This Passover ritual of money changing has not altered one bit since he was a child, but on this day Jesus feels empowered to do something about this obvious wrong.
The Nazarene is not normally prone to anger, and certainly not rage. In fact, Jesus usually exudes a powerful serenity. So when he boldly storms toward the money changers’ tables, those who know him become alarmed. There is a power to Jesus’s gait and a steely determination to his gaze.
The tables are made of wood. Their surfaces are scarred and dented from the thousands of coins that have been pushed back and forth across them. The coins are uneven in size and shape, so they do not stack well. Instead, the money changers sit before enormous piles of currency. The money gleams in the strong Jerusalem sun.
Heavy as the tables might be, their weight does not bother Jesus—not after twenty years of hauling lumber and stone alongside his father. He places two hands beneath the nearest table and flips it over. A small fortune in coins flies in every direction. And even as the stunned shulhanim cry out in a rage, and coins cascade down onto the stone courtyard, Jesus is already at the next table, and then on to the next.
Nobody has ever seen anything like this. Jesus’s behavior is an act of madness and the sort of thing that could get a man killed. As the crowd gasps in shock, Jesus brandishes the whip he has made from cords of rope. He moves from the money changers’ tables to where goats and sheep are being sold. He cracks his whip, sending the animals running. He marches over to the cages of doves, also being sold for slaughter, and opens the doors to set them free.
And nobody tries to stop him.
Jesus is such a force that not even the strongest man dares step in his path. Men, women, and children scatter before Jesus and his whip. “Get out of here,” he screams to the money changers and the men selling livestock. “How dare you turn my Father’s house into a market!”
These men who enjoyed absolute power over the pilgrims just moments ago now cower, terrified that Jesus will turn his whip on them. The money changers see their fortunes littering the ground but make no move to pick the coins up. Livestock run loose across the Court of the Gentiles—cows, goats, and sheep galloping aimlessly through the throngs, their rendezvous with the slaughtering knife temporarily put on hold.
The Temple courts are so vast that Jesus’s outburst goes unheard by the priests and worshippers within the Temple itself. And many believers who have not seen him scatter the animals are now surprised by the sight of these small herds in their midst. But those poor and oppressed who have witnessed Jesus’s act of defiance know they have seen something very special. They stand rooted to the ground, eagerly watching this powerful and unexpected moment of theater.
Suddenly, a circle of pilgrims and Temple officials forms a ring around Jesus, who holds his whip firmly in one hand, as if daring them to challenge him. “What miracles can you show us to prove your authority to do all this?” demands a money changer. Despite the commotion, soldiers do not run in to quell the disturbance. Better to let this madman explain himself.
“Destroy this Temple,” Jesus vows, “and I will raise it up in three days.”
Now they know he’s insane. “It has taken forty-six years to build this Temple and you are going to raise it in three days?” scoffs a money changer. Among the onlookers is Nicodemus, a devout Pharisee and a member of the Jewish ruling council, who watches Jesus with interest and waits for his answer to that question.
But Jesus says nothing. He knows his words will not change hearts and minds in the Temple.
No one blocks Jesus’s path as he leaves the Court of the Gentiles and walks toward the Temple itself. Behind him comes the clink of silver and bronze as the money changers scurry to sweep up every last coin. The men selling livestock race to rein in their beasts. It is the pilgrims who continue to marvel at what they have just witnessed. Many of them have long dreamed of committing such a bold act of social unrest. From his Galilean accent and simple robes to his workingman’s physique, it is clear that Jesus is one of them. For some, this man is a hero. And his actions will be discussed everywhere.4
* * *
Night in Jerusalem is a time of quiet celebration, as pilgrims pack into local courtyards and inns to bed down. It is customary to open one’s home for the visitors, and to do so with a glad heart. But there is only so much room for all these hundreds of thousands of travelers, so campfires dot the steep hillsides and valleys outside the city walls. From the thick groves of trees on the Mount of Olives, across the Kidron Valley, and down toward the old city of David, which lies just south of the Temple, families and friends spread out their blankets and bedrolls to spend the night under the stars.
Among them is Jesus. He has returned to the Temple time and again during his Passover stay, teaching from that Temple cloister known as Solomon’s Porch. This is his favorite place in the Temple, and even when he is not listening to the scholars or joining in to offer his own teachings about the kingdom of God, he often lingers in that area, walking and soaking in the atmosphere. Wherever he goes, crowds now flock to him, asking questions about God’s kingdom and listening reverently to his answers.
Jesus has made a deep impression in a short amount of time. His dramatic assault against the money changers seems to have paid off.
The Nazarene is comfortable in public. He enjoys people and speaks eloquently, often using stories to illuminate his teachings. Sharing his message is a great liberation after so many years of self-imposed silence, and his natural charisma and gentleness only make his listeners long for more. But it is no surprise, particularly given his outrageous behavior toward the money changers, that Temple officials have begun to watch him closely. The Pharisees, those men who obsess about all aspects of Jewish law, are paying particular attention. They are skeptical about Jesus and would like specific information before passing religious judgment on him.
Now, under cover of darkness, the Pharisee Nicodemus, who enjoys a powerful role as a member of the Jewish ruling council, approaches the Nazarene. He has chosen nighttime because it would be awkward for him to say what is on his mind in the midday Temple courts, where even the lowliest peasant could hear his words. Nicodemus also knows that this quiet hour means that he can have an uninterrupted discussion with Jesus.
“Rabbi,” Nicodemus begins deferentially, stepping into the light cast by the flames. If Jesus is surprised to see such an exalted Pharisee stepping from the darkness, he does not let on. “We know you are a teacher who has come from God,” Nicodemus continues, speaking for his fellow Pharisees.
“I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born from above,” Jesus replies, expressing the predominant theology of his teaching. He has been telling all who will listen that a person must be spiritually reborn if he is to be judged kindly by God.
This is a new concept to the Pharisees. “How can this be?” Nicodemus asks in astonishment. “How can someone be born when he is old? Surely he cannot enter a second time into the mother’s womb?”
“Flesh gives birth to flesh,” Jesus replies. “Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying you must be born again.”
Nicodemus is thoroughly confused. “How can this be?” he asks again.
“You are Israel’s teacher, and do you not understand these things?” Jesus asks, assuming the debater’s rhetoric he so often uses when speaking with other teachers in the Temple. If he is uncomfortable scolding one of the most powerful religious leaders in Jerusalem, it does not show. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”
Nicodemus is intrigued but frustrated. He is a man dedicated to
stated religious law. Now Jesus is telling him that God is about love, not rules. And that the Son of God has come to save the world, even insinuating that this is his true identity. Then the Nazarene adds talk about being reborn, as if such a thing were humanly possible. Rather than answering Nicodemus’s questions, Jesus is raising even more.
“Whoever lives by the truth comes into the light,” Jesus concludes, “so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.”
Nicodemus has heard Jesus teaching in the Temple courts, so he knows that the Nazarene likes to speak in allusions and parables. It’s not clear that the reference to stepping into the light has anything to do with his own appearance by the fire tonight, but like the other statements it is giving him a great deal to think about.
As he walks alone back up the hill and into Jerusalem, Nicodemus finds himself fascinated by Jesus and his teachings—impressed enough that he is destined to remember him for as long as he lives.5
* * *
The men of Nazareth pray the Shema, their voices blending together as one: “Hear, O Israel: Jehovah our God is one Jehovah; and thou shalt love Jehovah your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your might.”
It is the Sabbath day, and the Shema marks the beginning of the Sabbath worship. Jesus is home from Jerusalem and now sits with his head uncovered in the same Nazareth synagogue where he has worshipped his whole life. The room is small and square, with wooden benches pressed against each wall. The Temple in Jerusalem, with its priests and vaults and animal sacrifices, is the center of Jewish life. The local synagogue, however, is the lifeblood of the faith, an intimate place where believers worship and teach, taking turns reading from the parchment scrolls on which the Scriptures are written. Indeed, the synagogue is so important to the Jewish faith that there are more than four hundred synagogues in Jerusalem, allowing believers to gather in a less formal setting than the Temple itself. In the synagogue, there are no high priests or clergy, no standard liturgy, and anyone is allowed to play the part of rabbi, or “teacher.” Also, there is no money on the tables.
Jesus joins in as the men of Nazareth lift their voices in song, chanting the words of the Psalms. He has known all these men since he was a child, just as they know him and his family.
But Jesus has changed. No longer content to be a mere builder, he has spent the months since returning from Jerusalem traveling through Galilee, teaching in synagogues. He has become popular, praised everywhere he goes for the depth and insights of his teaching. There are rumors that he commits the “sin” of speaking to Samaritans. Even more confusingly, no one can explain how this man with no medical knowledge healed a dying child in the fishing village of Capernaum. So now the sight of Jesus sitting in the midst of this Nazareth congregation has become an event, and there is anticipation as he stands to read from the scrolls.
An attendant hands Jesus the words of the prophet Isaiah. “The Spirit of the Lord is on me,” the Nazarene reads in Hebrew, “because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery for the sight of the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
Jesus remains standing, translating the words he has just read into Aramaic, for the benefit of those not fluent in Hebrew. It is customary to stand while reading and sit while teaching. So now he sits down again and presses his back against the wall, aware that all eyes are upon him. “Today this Scripture was fulfilled in your hearing,” Jesus calmly informs them.
The crowd is shocked. This reading is a pivotal moment. The passage that Jesus reads refers to an anointed deliverer, a man both prophetic and messianic. He will set them free. Jesus is saying that it refers to him, right now.
“Isn’t this Joseph’s son?” they ask rhetorically. For while they know the answer, the words are a reminder that Jesus should remember his place: his family is not the wealthiest in town; nor is he the smartest among them. He is the son of Joseph, and nothing more. In their eyes, Jesus exalting himself as the man sent by God to preach the good news is offensive. Even Jesus’s family members do not believe he is such a man.6
But Jesus doesn’t back down. He has been expecting this response. “I tell you the truth,” he predicts. “No prophet is accepted in his town.” He then makes a lengthy speech suggesting his belief that the words he has just read refer specifically to him. Jesus then interjects two extremely volatile references to Elijah and Elisha, two prophets who were rejected by the nation of Israel.7 The audience knows its history and immediately gets the message. In essence, Jesus tells these men he has long known not only that he is the Son of God but that their rejection of this claim will cause God to turn his back on them. Jesus uses words such as famine, widows, and leprosy in a way that enrages the entire synagogue.
Disregarding that they are in a house of worship, some men leap to their feet and prepare to attack Jesus. Moving quickly, he races out the door. But they follow him. Working together, the men who, just moments ago, were praying, now cut off any route of escape. Jesus is forced to the edge of town, where a tall cliff provides a commanding view of Galilee.
The men’s intention is to hurl Jesus to his death. And it appears that might happen, for Jesus seems powerless. But at the last minute he turns to face his detractors. Drawing himself up to his full height, Jesus squares his shoulders and holds his ground. He is not a menacing individual, but he has a commanding presence and displays an utter lack of fear. The words he says next will never be written down, nor will the insults these men continue to hurl at him ever be chronicled. In the end, the mob parts and Jesus walks away unscathed.
And he keeps walking.8
* * *
Jesus has issued three pronouncements about his identity: one to the public in Jerusalem, one to Nicodemus the Pharisee, and the third in the intimate setting of his own town synagogue, to the people he knows best of all. Three times he has declared himself to be the Son of God, a blasphemous statement that could get him killed. It is a statement that cannot be retracted, just as he can never return to the humble and quiet life he knew growing up. There is no turning back. Nazareth is no longer his home, and he is no longer a carpenter.
Jesus will never write a book, compose a song, or put paint on canvas. But two thousand years from now, after his message has spread to billions of people, more books will be written about his life, more songs sung in his honor, and more works of art created in his name than for any other man in the history of the world.
But now the Nazarene is completely alone, cut off from the life he once knew, destined to wander through Galilee preaching words of hope and love.
Those words will eventually rally billions of human beings to his spiritual cause. But they will not convert the powerful men who currently hold the life of Jesus in their hands.
To them, the Nazarene is a marked man.
CHAPTER NINE
CAPERNAUM, GALILEE
SUMMER, A.D. 27
AFTERNOON
The local fishing fleet has just returned from a long night and day on the water, and great crowds fill the markets along Capernaum’s waterfront promenade. Paved with black volcanic basalt, just like the eight-foot seawall on which it rests, the walkway is a center of activity: fishermen sorting their catch into clean and unclean before making the official count for the taxman;1 large freshwater holding tanks filled with live fish; Matthew, the local tax collector, sizing up the day’s haul at the marine toll station; and everywhere, customers eager to purchase the freshest catch for their evening dinner. What doesn’t get sold this day will be shipped to Magdala for drying and salting, whereupon it will be packed tightly into baskets and exported throughout the Roman Empire.
For more than two centuries, the business of fishing has defined the bustling town of Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee, as boats and nets line every inch of the hundred feet between the stone piers and the breakwater. Some are ferries, designed to carry passengers qu
ickly and easily down to Magdala or across the eight miles of sea to Gergesa. But most boats are for fishing. Of the more than one dozen major fishing villages on the shores of Lake of Gennesaret, as the freshwater sea is also known, none is busier than Capernaum—not even Antipas’s brand-new creation, Tiberias city. A detachment of one hundred Roman soldiers has even been posted here, to ensure that all taxes are collected according to the law.
So it would seem that Jesus has come to the right place if he is looking for an audience—which, indeed, he is. The problem, however, is that Capernaum is actually too busy. No one will be able to hear him over the clink of sinker leads dropping onto stone and the haggling between shopkeepers and customers. The fishermen themselves are exhausted from hours of throwing out their flax fishing nets and hauling them hand over hand back into their boats, and they are in no mood to listen to a religious sermon.
Jesus is undeterred. He stops to look up and down the long, fingerlike row of piers, carefully studying the various fishing boats. He is looking for one boat and one man in particular.
Each boat features a step mast for sailing and oars for rowing when the wind is calm. The boats are constructed of wood and made stronger by the mortise-and-tenon joints2 used in place of nails and the thick handcrafted ribs that run along the interior, just below the deck. The average boat size is thirty feet long, eight feet wide, and four feet high. The bow comes to a point, while the stern is rounded. Local shipwrights use cedar for the hull, oak for the frame, and Aleppo pine, hawthorn, willow, and redbud where needed. These are sturdy craft, designed to withstand the temperamental local winds that can turn the Sea of Galilee from dead calm into tempest in a matter of moments.
Killing Jesus: A History Page 9
