The Kingdom and the Crown

by Gerald N. Lund

  Before Simeon could make any sense of it, Jesus lowered his head. For a long moment, he stared at the ground, one hand twisting in the animal’s mane. Then he looked at Peter. “It is enough,” he said. “Let us go on.”

  V

  By the time they reached the Golden Gate, the eastern entrance onto the Temple Mount, the crowd was nearly exhausted from the walking, shouting, and waving. Many had joined in along the way, but others had come the full way from Bethany, a distance of almost two miles, all of it either going up or down hill. Some had dropped off after Jesus had passed, returning to their homes, but there was still a huge throng surrounding Jesus as they reached the open square in front of the gates.

  Jesus raised a hand, and Peter and the surrounding protective circle of men stopped. Sensing that something was happening, the crowd quieted quickly. And gratefully so. Their voices were hoarse, arms tired from waving the branches and palm fronds, brows perspiring from toiling up and down the hills.

  Jesus dismounted and stretched for a moment to get the stiffness out of his body. He had been astride the animal for almost an hour. Peter removed the cloak on the donkey’s back and handed it back to Judas. Then he motioned to a young lad nearby and gave him instructions for returning the borrowed donkey to Bethphage, slipping him a coin for doing so.

  An air of expectancy mixed with uncertainty seemed to hover over the crowd. David’s family moved closer to hear. If Jesus was going onto the Temple Mount, the danger would multiply exponentially, but no one was of a mind to point that out to the Master. But Jesus seemed content to stay there by the gate, shaking hands, talking one on one with people. Gradually, seeing that the excitement was over, the crowd began to drift away, some going into the temple grounds, others returning to their homes. In twenty minutes, all that was left was the core group of disciples that had started with him in Bethany, plus a few others.

  Finally, Jesus turned to Peter and spoke softly. Peter looked relieved, and as Jesus started towards the gates the chief apostle motioned for the others to come closer. “Jesus would like to go in and walk about for a short time on the Temple Mount. Then we will return to Bethany.”

  “Good,” Andrew said. “After what we’ve just witnessed, it seems best not to stay here today.”

  Several of the women had come up as well, including Jesus’ mother. Her face was lined with concern. “He looks very tired,” she said.

  “I can only imagine,” answered Mary Magdalene. “I’m exhausted, and all we did was come along with him. This was a very emotional experience, very draining.”

  Simeon and Miriam were standing together. He leaned over to her. “You stay close by. I’m going to circulate around and see if there is anything to be concerned about.”

  Miriam’s mouth pulled down with worry. “Be careful, Simeon.”

  He knew what she was thinking. Marcus Didius could very possibly be inside, taking the pulse of the city. “I will,” he said and squeezed her arm. Before she could say more, he hurried after Jesus, entering through the massive gates that led to the temple.

  Chapter Notes

  Approximately one third of the content of the four Gospels focuses on the last week of Christ’s life (beginning with the triumphal entry) and the events surrounding his resurrection (see Matthew 21–28; Mark 11–16; Luke 19–24; and John 12–22). This creates some unusual challenges in making chapter notes. The following summary relates to the remainder of the book.

  All four writers cover most of the events of this week, though there are some things unique to each. There are small differences in details provided and the amount of space devoted to different events (for example, while Matthew, Mark, and Luke devote a few verses to the Last Supper, John devotes five chapters to it). There is not consistent agreement in the sequence in which events transpired.

  The author combines and blends details from different writers to provide the fullest picture of what happened. Trying to document where each detail comes from would become very tedious; therefore, unless there is a particular issue that needs to be addressed, scripture references will not be provided. The reader who is interested in such detail is encouraged to read the parallel accounts and compare them for himself or herself.

  With that much content, many things had to be left out of the novel. The choice as to what to exclude was often based on keeping the flow of the story moving forward; it should not be viewed as an evaluation of what things were of greater or lesser significance.

  Dummelow notes the significance of entering Jerusalem on a donkey: “An ass [is] the symbol, not of lowliness, but of peace, as the horse was of war” (The One Volume Bible Commentary, p. 607). In the conflict over who would be his successor to the throne, King David caused Solomon to make his entry into the city riding a mule (see 1 Kings 1:32–40).

  Chapter 23

  For the zeal of thine house hath eaten me up; and the reproaches of them that reproached thee are fallen upon me.

  —Psalm 69:9

  I

  On the road from Bethany to Jerusalem 31 March–1 April, a.d. 33

  When Jesus finished his brief walk around the Temple Mount and started back to Bethany, David’s family met in a quick conference. They determined that the women would return to Bethlehem, while the men would accompany Jesus back to Bethany, where they would stay overnight at the home of Martha. Since Jesus had declared his intention to return to Jerusalem the following day, the family would meet up again then.

  There were two reasons for the men to stay with Jesus. First, they were concerned about the sheer logistics of traveling all the way from Bethlehem to Bethany in time for an early morning departure every day. Second, though it was unlikely that the Sanhedrin would come looking for Jesus, having a group of armed men sleeping in the courtyard where Jesus was would be a major deterrent to any trouble. What it came down to was that the climate was too laden with the possibility of trouble, and they were not willing to take any risks. So David, Aaron, Ephraim, and Simeon returned with Jesus and the other disciples to the village on the east side of the Mount of Olives.

  Back in Bethany, once supper was over, Jesus retired early, and the rest of them enjoyed a quiet, peaceful night.

  On the next morning, there was no lingering. Shortly after sunrise, Jesus announced that he was ready to leave. Martha was a little dismayed because she had not yet prepared breakfast. Jesus assured her it would be all right, and they all set off. Once again Simeon took point, staying far enough ahead that he could spot any potential trouble before they reached it. The other men in the family stayed back, but since Jesus was walking with his mother everyone left them alone to have time together.

  It was a quiet entourage that made its way toward the top of the Mount of Olives. A few people saw them coming and went out to wave or call out to Jesus, but there was none of the unrestrained exuberance and celebration of the day before.

  They made their way to the city without incident, except for one brief but strange occurrence. As they neared the spot where the path turned off to Bethphage and where the group had stopped the day before, Jesus noticed a fig tree that was in full leaf. That was unusual because it was still early in the spring and most fig trees were just coming into bud; it was yet not the season of figs. The fig tree was such that leaf and fruit came on together. If there were leaves, there would be fruit. Having left without breakfast, the travelers were pleased at the unexpected find. The figs would be a way to tide them over until they got onto the Temple Mount, where they would find food vendors.

  Jesus turned aside to pick some figs from the tree. But to everyone’s surprise, there was no fruit on the tree, not one fig. Then there came a bigger surprise. While everyone was mumbling their disappointment, Jesus looked up and said, “Let no fruit grow on this tree henceforth and forever.” Then he walked away.

  Even Mary, his mother, seemed taken aback by that. Had Jesus just cursed the tree?

  But he said nothing further, and no one felt inclined to ask him about the odd happenin
g. In another half hour, as they approached the city, the entire incident was forgotten.

  II

  Jerusalem, the Temple Mount 1 April, a.d. 33

  Though Passover was still a few days away, the temple courtyards were already crowded. As the group pushed their way through the Golden Gate and up the stairs into the Court of the Gentiles, Simeon’s eyes swept the throngs. Most heads turned at the sight of their group, and it was clear many people instantly recognized Jesus, smiling or poking their companions and pointing. There were a few Pharisees who glared as they went by—some of the anger focused on Aaron—and several priests in their white robes stared with open curiosity, then averted their eyes and hurried on.

  “Pardon! Make way! Make way!”

  Simeon turned at the cry. Behind them, just coming through the gates and up the small side ramp alongside the stairs, were a man and a boy of fifteen or sixteen. They had a small pushcart on which was a large vat of what Simeon guessed was wine or, possibly, olive oil.

  The group started to fall back, but Jesus moved directly in front of the cart as it reached the main level of the courtyard.

  “Hey!” the man shouted. He was swarthy in complexion and heavily bearded. He looked as if he was from Gaza or Hebron, one of the southern cities of Judah. “Make way!”

  “What is it you carry?” Jesus asked.

  “Wine!” the man snapped. “And what is that to you?”

  “Is this wine destined for the temple?”

  “No,” the man sneered, “it is destined for the bellies of the Romans in the Antonia Fortress.” The sneer turned mean. “And the Romans don’t like to wait, so I suggest you step aside.”

  Seeing the man’s anger, the disciples began to edge closer. People coming into the temple turned to watch, drawn by the bite in the man’s voice.

  If Jesus saw any of this, he gave it no heed. “The House of the Lord is not a thoroughfare of merchandise,” he said firmly. “It is a house of prayer. Are there not other entrances to the fortress?”

  The man let the cart drop. The handles clunked heavily on the paving stones. He began to push back his sleeves, a threatening gesture if Simeon had ever seen one. Simeon too moved closer, prepared to intervene. “The way around is twice as far, and this cart is heavy,” the man growled. “This is a convenient shortcut.”

  The Master’s demeanor was calm, his manner unruffled. Quietly he repeated the words he had just said. “The House of the Lord is not a thoroughfare of merchandise. It is a place of prayer.”

  His eyes never left the man’s. After a moment, the wine merchant had to look away from the penetrating gaze. Muttering something under his breath, he turned to his boy. “Back,” he snarled. “We’ll go around.”

  Jesus said nothing more. He simply watched as they wheeled the cart back down the ramp, then out the gates. Only then did he turn. He was looking toward the southeast corner of the Temple Mount. There the crowds were the thickest, and there was the sound of the lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep and goats.

  Jesus’ eyes darkened, and Simeon saw that his jaw was set in a hard line.

  Peter also saw the look in Jesus’ eye and sensed what was about to happen.

  III

  Miriam, Deborah, Livia, Leah, and Rachel did not bring Aunt Esther with them when they returned to Jerusalem. Benjamin had been assigned to stay with the flocks in the hills outside of Bethlehem through the night, and he arrived home just as the women were preparing to leave. Esther decided she would stay behind and see to his needs. She promised they both would come later.

  The rest of them left after breakfast was finished; they reached Jerusalem about the third hour of the morning. The road from Bethlehem entered Jerusalem on the west side of the city. From there they worked their way through the crowded and narrow streets, then crossed the great arch that led from the Upper City to the Temple Mount. As they entered the Court of the Gentiles, they stopped to rest for a moment in the shade of Solomon’s Porches.

  “Do you see them?” Miriam asked, her eyes searching the crowds that half filled the great courtyard.

  “No, but we agreed to meet them near the main gate of the Court of the Women,” Deborah said. “I told David we’d look for them there first.”

  “If they’re not here yet, they’ll be coming through the Golden Gate,” Leah noted. “But if Jesus went somewhere else, they’ll stay with him. So they could be anywhere.”

  “Well,” Deborah suggested, “let’s start there and see what happens.”

  As they started forward, moving out into the open, Leah suddenly pointed. “Look at the crowds. I wonder if Jesus is over there.” She gestured toward the southeast corner of the great court.

  Leah was right. A tight cluster of both men and women were moving slowly across the line of their vision. To Miriam’s relief, there were no signs of the temple guards with their long spears, and the people didn’t seem agitated.

  “I think I see Andrew,” Rachel exclaimed. “And there’s Luke and John. That must be them.”

  “Well, that was simple enough,” Livia said.

  “Yes, let’s go,” Deborah replied.

  The width of the Court of the Gentiles from west to east was about six hundred paces. As the four women began working their way through the crowds, angling to intercept the moving group, Miriam kept going up on tiptoe to see better. She was relieved to see that the group had completely stopped, still some distance from the towering Royal Portico on the south end of the courtyard. That was good. For a moment, she had feared that Jesus might be under guard and on the way to the Sanhedrin’s chambers.

  Suddenly a shout went up from the crowd. It was instantly followed by the bawling of cattle and a loud crash. Miriam grabbed Leah by the hand, motioning frantically to the others. “Come,” she cried. She broke into a run, pulling her sister-in-law forward. “He’s with the moneychangers again.”

  They ran as quickly as they could across the courtyard. Livia, hardly up to running, waved the others to go ahead, but they wouldn’t leave her. It helped that they no longer had to fight the crowds. Others had heard the clamor and were running in the same direction to see what was happening.

  By the time they crossed the great plaza, people were already standing four and five deep, blocking access to the area where the moneychangers did their business. At that instant there was another loud crash, and a roar of approval went up from the crowd. As the sound died, Miriam heard a shout from off to their left, and she saw Simeon waving at them through the crowd. “Miriam! Mother! We’re over here.”

  “Excuse us, please,” Miriam said as she pushed her way through the crowd. “I have to get to my husband. Make way!” She elbowed people aside as gently as she could.

  Muttering and grumbling, the people made way. In a moment, they were standing beside David, Aaron, Ephraim, and Simeon. Miriam grabbed Simeon’s arm and squeezed it in greeting, then turned to see what was going on.

  It was as though she had, in one instant, been transported back almost three years to when she and Livia had happened on this same scene. The images had been indelibly etched into her mind on that day, and they were almost identical now. Small, makeshift pens of ropes and rickety fencing held hundreds of sheep, goats, and bullocks. The courtyard was covered with their droppings, and the stench was heavy in the air. Beyond the penned animals, rows of tables held small wooden cages filled with doves, the men selling them sitting on stools behind them. Since the dove was an acceptable substitute for those too poor to purchase a lamb or bullock, the merchandisers were doing a brisk business. Some tables held only empty cages. Down the center of the whole madhouse, a large aisle had been left to the moneychangers. Here were the men who made small fortunes changing coinage from all over the empire into shekels, the only money accepted for the temple tax and in the temple treasuries.

  Then Miriam saw Jesus. He was moving down the row of tables. Men scattered before him like frightened chickens. He paused at a heavy wooden table, bent over, grasped the
edges, and heaved upwards. There was a resounding crash. Bags of coins hit the pavement and sprayed outward. Again the crowd roared its approval. With one kick of his foot, the next table, much flimsier than the first, collapsed. Its owner howled something at Jesus even as he scrambled backward to get out of the way.

  On that first occasion when Jesus cleansed the temple, he had braided a whip of cords and used it to drive the men and animals before him. Now he had nothing but his bare hands. It made little difference. No one had questioned his authority then, and no one was questioning it now.

  A burly man in a filthy tunic dove to one side as Jesus gave one of the pens a swift kick and the fencing collapsed. Bleating wildly, half a dozen sheep bolted through the opening, their hooves skidding on the stones as they tried to turn too quickly. Two of the animals slammed into the next pen. It went down and three young bullocks joined the stampede.

  Jesus reached the first of the tables with cages. These were all empty. The table went flying, the wooden cages shattering as they hit the ground. At the next table, where the cages were still filled with birds, the man threw out his arms, as if he would stop a tidal wave. “Please, Lord,” he blurted. “Not my birds.”

  “Take these out of here,” Jesus snapped. The man and the others behind them leaped from their stools and frantically began loading the cages into their carts. As they did so, Jesus began kicking their stools aside, sending them clattering away.

  Another pen collapsed and more sheep bolted through the opening. Their keeper gave a strangled cry and dove at one of them, trying to corral it with his arms. It nimbly leaped to one side, and he went crashing onto the courtyard floor. Some of the crowd cheered and broke into applause. They were loving this. But others looked dismayed—they had come to exchange their money or purchase what they needed for their sacrifices.