CHAPTER XXV THE GREAT RENUNCIATION EVEN yet Jesus might have been saved from the malevolence of His enemies. We may recall what has been said in an earlier chapter upon the immense popularity which He had achieved by resisting the exactions of the priests, and the second cleansing of the Temple must have greatly reinforced that popularity. In spite of waves of timidity which swept over the fickle populace, Jesus remained a popular idol. A definite proclamation of leadership or kingship from His lips would certainly have rallied to Him a host of followers. It was precisely this contingency which the Sanhedrim most dreaded. Jerusalem at Passover-time resembled a vast arsenal, crammed with combustible material, which a single spark of fanaticism might explode. It was natural that the priests should recognise in Jesus their most dangerous countryman, and there was genuine political astuteness in the argument of Caiaphas that the peace of the nation demanded His death. But it was also abundantly clear that this policy had no chance of successful execution unless Jesus could be detached from His followers. Long ago His arrest had been ordered, and yet no man dared to lay a hand upon Him for fear of the people. He came and went as He willed, in spite of threats and warnings. It was the old story of a jealous oligarchy fighting for its life against a democratic movement which it hated, and feared even more than it hated. The principle of fanaticism, strong in all Oriental peoples, manifested its most alarming energy in the Jew. We must take full account of this fanaticism of Jewish character in estimating the existing situation in Jerusalem. At first sight nothing could seem more unlikely than that there should have been the least chance of success in a Jewish rising against the Roman power. Yet a few years later, in the May of 66, such a rising was successful. An exasperated nation is capable of a reckless daring which seems incredible to the historian. It was so in 66, when Jerusalem rose against a despotism it could no longer endure, and the legions of Rome were crushed by the violence of an unarmed mob. In a few weeks Jerusalem was evacuated by the Romans, the town of Antonia was burned, its half-starved defenders were massacred, and the revolt spread through the whole of Palestine. With such a page of history before us, it is impossible to doubt that had Jesus boldly declared a revolution on His entry into Jerusalem, the movement might have been attended with success. The Roman garrison was small, and the Roman authority had suffered seriously at the hands of Pontius Pilate. Herod, who was residing in Jerusalem at this time, was not unwilling to foment a revolt which might serve his own ambitious ends. The million Passover pilgrims present in the city, all of whom were fanatically attached to the idea of Jewish nationality, afforded material for the revolt. Never did Jesus come nearer to grasping the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them than in this last week in Jerusalem. At a single word, at once bold and decisive, the banner of a national insurrection would have been unfurled; and, when we think of the astonishing success of a Mahomet, who shall say what triumph might not have awaited a resolute and ardent Liberator? That word was not spoken, but the key to the situation is that the priests could not know that it never would be spoken. On the contrary, they fully expected it; and not without reason. The boldness of Jesus in defying their authority argued a similar boldness in inaugurating a campaign against the Roman usurpation. They saw Jesus pass in triumph through the Golden Gate, they saw their own choir-boys of the Temple rushing to His side and receiving Him with plaudits. Had not Jesus already offended them beyond forgiveness by the bold nobility of His religious teaching, they would perhaps have been ready to support Him. But they recognised in Him a revolutionary more dangerous to them than to the Romans. They had no wish to help into power a Dictator who would certainly turn His power against themselves. Hence at this critical moment they were bound to make common cause with the Romans. Cæsar appeared to them a less terrible despot than Jesus. Cæsar at least protected their privileges and their wealth, which Jesus would have destroyed. By some means Jesus must be isolated from His followers: this seemed the one practicable plan of action. He must be made to appear ridiculous to them. He must appear to have betrayed their hopes. Was it possible to counteract His popularity with such a stroke of strategy? They knew His exquisite simplicity of mind. They knew that, in spite of His formidable genius, He often spoke or acted like a dreamer or a child. Things hung in such a delicate poise that a single injudicious word might prove fatal to His movement, and be the making of theirs; and so they set themselves to play on His simplicity, in the hope that He Himself would precipitate a ruin which they, with all their malice, were unable to achieve. How deep the alarm was among what may be called "the party of order," how bitter the hatred, may be judged from the nature of the combination formed for the execution of their plot. We have already seen that between the Herodians, the Pharisees, and the Sadducees, the strongest animosities prevailed; but we now find them acting together. The plot is to entrap Jesus into some injudicious speech about the capitation tax, imposed on the nation by the Romans. This was a tax bitterly resented by the entire population, not only because it affirmed the political subjugation of the nation, but because it destroyed the sacred theocratic principle of Jewish history. To pay tribute to Cæsar was to acquiesce in his authority, and to disclaim the authority of God, as the Eternal King of Israel. It excited the same kind of agitation which the imposition of ship-money excited among the Puritans. This strange people, who actually had to be restrained by law lest they cast too large a portion of their wealth into the Temple treasury, resisted to the death the payment of the very moderate tax of a single drachma per head to the imperial exchequer. They even had violent religious scruples about handling the imperial coinage at all, going so far as to drop it into water, as if by accident, that it might be cleansed before they touched it. There was, perhaps, no single subject upon which all parties were so thoroughly agreed as the hatefulness and iniquity of this taxation, and it was clearly impossible for any patriotic leader who did not share these views to expect the least chance of success. Even the Herodian himself, mere time-server as he was, felt much as Naaman felt when he entered the house of Rimmon; his position was so radically false that he could conciliate rebuke only by abject apology. It argues a deep sense of the originality of Christ's character that these men should have supposed that on such a matter the views of Jesus should have differed from those of His countrymen. They proposed to submit to Him the question of the rightfulness of tribute, with the definite expectation that He would reply in a way that would probably be so novel as to offend all parties. The Pharisees themselves, knowing how Christ regarded them, with much astuteness kept in the background. They sent some of their disciples, probably young men, who could play the part of inquirers after truth; and with them were certain Herodians who could not be suspected of favouring the idea of Jewish independence. The aim of this adroit deputation was to make it appear that there has arisen among themselves a discussion on the rightfulness of tribute, which they now brought to Jesus for settlement, according to the general custom which recognised the eminent Rabbi as the arbiter of all disputes. Hostility to Jesus was carefully veiled, so that if possible He might be taken off His guard. They approach Him with the utmost suavity, with the anxious air of perplexed but honest persons, who find themselves in difficulties. "Master," they say, "we know that Thou art true, and teachest the way of God in truth, neither carest Thou for any man, for Thou regardest not the person of men. Tell us, therefore, what thinkest Thou? Is it lawful to give tribute unto Cæsar or not?" A question so plainly put can hardly admit of any but a plain and definite reply, they think. And they can imagine but two replies, either one of which would be fatal to Jesus. If He decides that the tribute is not lawful, which means that it is a patriotic duty to resist it, He at once declares Himself a revolutionary leader, and will be liable to arrest by the Roman authorities. If He declares that it is lawful, and must be accepted without resistance, He will at once alienate His own followers. No third reply seems possible; and yet the question is put |