"When thy stomach hath become a tomb for a cup of red wine, then will
Jerusalem be more to thy liking," Claudia said, and turning to the
guest added, "My lord Pilate doth love Rome much when he is in
Jerusalem."
"Yet even Jerusalem doth seem to be getting Romanized, with her hippodrome and her trophies of Augustan victories. Also, there is a statue of Caligula, and the golden eagle hangs its wings over the Temple gate itself, while Antonio commands all."
"Yea," assented Pilate, "there are a few images and theatres, but the atmosphere is heavy with religion—barbarous superstition, as hath Cicero said. And fools they are for they worship the unseen. Greeks, Egyptians, Asiatics, Romans all have gods, but these dish-faced ones with beards refuse to pay honor to Caesar and scorn the gods."
"True," the guest replied, "but if there were no Jew, the wit of the theatre would suffer. Doth not the wag ever make merry concerning the god of the Jew which refuseth to be a god unless an inch of skin be taken where the eye misseth it not?"
Pilate joined his guests in hearty laughter. "And their ancestral veneration of the swine, what meaneth it?"
"Perhaps they fear more than venerate the swine."
"Of that I know not, but much fasting doth make them lean enough to thank the gods for the fat of a swine."
"They are loyal to their god—whatever it is," Claudia said.
"Yea, in dimly lighted synagogues they ever gather, muttering prayers. Even do they close their shops one day that they may have more time for more prayers."
"It hath come to my ears that they neither eat nor sleep with strangers," one of the guests observed.