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The following is an excerpt from:
by Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugard
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JERUSALEM
APRIL, A.D. 27
Jesus clenches a coiled whip in his fist as he makes his way up the steps to the Temple courts. Passover pilgrims surround him. Hundreds of thousands of Jewish believers have once again traveled a great distance—from Galilee, Syria, Egypt, and even Rome—to celebrate the climax to the Jewish year. Not that they have a choice: failure to visit the Temple during Passover is one of thirty-six transgressions that will result in the holy punishment of karet, being spiritually “cut off” from God. Those who transgress will suffer a premature death or other punishment known only to the deity. So, as he has done every spring since childhood, Jesus of Nazareth has made the trek to Jerusalem.
The spiritual emotion that flows through the city is wondrous, as these many Jews come together to openly celebrate their faith and sing praises to God. Agents of the Temple have repaired the dirt roads coming into town to make them smooth after the hard winter rains. Grave sites are clearly marked, so that no pilgrim will inadvertently suffer impurity by touching one. Special wells are dug so that every man and woman can immerse him- or herself in the ritual bath, in order to be pure upon entering the Holy City. Mikvot (purification pools) are carved into the bedrock and lined in plaster, into which an observant pilgrim steps down for cleansing.
Jesus himself submerges himself in a mikvah as a last stop before Jerusalem. Inside the city walls, he sees the hundreds of temporary clay ovens that have been constructed in order that each pilgrim will have a place to roast his Passover sacrifice before sitting down to the evening Seder feast. He hears the bleat of sheep as shepherds and their flocks clog the narrow streets, just down from the hills after lambing season. And Jesus can well imagine the peal of the silver trumpets and the harmonious voices of the Levite choir that will echo in the inner courts of the Temple just moments before an innocent lamb is slaughtered for the Passover sacrifice. A priest will catch its blood in a golden bowl, then sprinkle it on the altar as the lamb is hung on a hook and skinned. The Hallel prayers of thanksgiving will soon follow, and the Temple courts will echo with songs of hallelujah.
This is Passover in Jerusalem. It has been this way since the rebuilding of the Temple. Each Passover is unique in its glory and personal stories, but the rituals remain the same.
Now, as he steps into the Court of the Gentiles, Jesus is about to undertake a bold and outrageous moment of revolution.
For this Passover will not be like those that have come before. It will be remembered throughout history for words of anger. Unfurling his whip, Jesus prepares to launch his ministry.
The partially enclosed Temple courts reek of blood and livestock. Tables piled with coins line one wall, in the shade of the Temple awnings, lorded over by scheming men known as shulhanim, “money changers.” In long lines, out-of-towners await their chance to exchange their meager wealth in the form of coins minted by agents of Rome. The Roman coins are adorned with images of living things such as gods or with portraits of the emperor. But this coinage must be converted into shekels, the standard currency of Jerusalem. In keeping with the Jewish law forbidding graven images, these special coins are decorated with images of plants and other nonhuman likenesses. Also known as the “Temple tax coin,” the shekel is disparaged by many pilgrims because it is the only form of money acceptable for paying the annual tax or for purchasing animals for ritual slaughter.
The money changers demand unfair exchange rates for the privilege of turning local money into shekels. The Temple high priests also profit from this scam. Within the Temple’s inner courts are massive vaults filled with shekels and the foreign coins exchanged each year by pilgrims. When the Temple loans that money—as it so often does, to peasants who need help paying their taxes—the interest rates are exorbitant. Ledger sheets within the Temple’s grand vaults keep tally of all debts, and those who cannot repay suffer severe indignities: the loss of a home, loss of land and livestock, and eventually life as a debt slave or membership in the “unclean” class. The slums of lower Jerusalem are packed with families who were driven from their land because they could not repay money they borrowed from the Temple.
So while Passover might be a holiday about faith and piety, it is also about money. As many as four million Jews make their way to Jerusalem each year. This means more income for the local shop owners and innkeepers, but the Temple priests and their Roman masters get most of the profit through taxation and money changing. Even more money is made when the poor must buy a lamb or dove for the mandatory Passover sacrifice. If a priest should inspect the animal or bird and find even a single blemish, the sacrifice will be deemed unclean and the peasant will be forced to buy another. It is no wonder that the people quietly seethe when doing business with the Temple priests. Many wish they could burn the ledger books and loot the Temple vaults. And in four decades, the sons and daughters of Israel will do just that.
But that event is far away during this Passover week. Today Jesus climbs to the Court of the Gentiles and makes his way into the broad open-air plaza. Since his baptism and time spent fasting in the desert, his ministry has been a quiet one.
Jesus of Nazareth has no army. He has no wealth. He has no sword. He has no headquarters and none of the infrastructure needed to support a movement. Nothing in his behavior so far has been rebellious or confrontational. His greatest social outing since being baptized by John has been attending a wedding in the Galilean village of Cana with his mother. If Jesus means to start a revolution by revealing himself as God, the planning is taking place only within his head. He has not preached a single message before a crowd. He has not challenged Rome or the Temple’s high priests—nor does he seem interested in doing so.
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.
