Soon after this, Jesus went to Capernaum, a thriving seaport town upon the western shores of the Lake of Galilee, about twelve miles north-east of Nazareth. His mother, his brothers,—who did not accept his Messiahship,—and his disciples,—we know not how many in number,—accompanied him. We have no record of his doings during the few days that he remained there. As the feast of the Passover was at hand, Jesus went up to Jerusalem, there to inaugurate his ministry in the midst of the thousands whom the sacred festival would summon to the metropolis. A few of his disciples accompanied him. Their journey was undoubtedly made on foot, a distance of about a hundred miles.
Upon their arrival, Jesus directed his steps immediately to the temple, probably then the most imposing structure in the world. The sight which met his view as he entered the outer court-yard of the temple with his humble Galilean followers excited his indignation. The sacred edifice had been perverted to the most shameful purposes of traffic. The booths of the traders lined its walls. The bleating of sheep and the lowing of oxen resounded through its enclosures. The litter of the stable covered its tessellated floors, and the tables of money-changers stood by the side of the magnificent marble pillars. The din of traffic filled that edifice which was erected for the worship of God.
Jesus, in the simple garb of a Galilean peasant, and without any badge of authority, enters this tumultuous throng. Picking up from the floor a few of the twigs, or rushes, he bound them together; and, with voice and gesture of authority whose supernatural power no man could resist, “he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep and the oxen; and poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew the tables; and said unto them that sold doves, Take these things hence: make not my Father’s house a house of merchandise.”
No one ventured any resistance. The temple was cleared of its abominations. There must have been a more than human presence in the eye and voice of this Galilean peasant, to enable him thus, in the proud metropolis of Judæa, to drive the traffickers from all nations in a panic before him, while invested with no governmental power, and his only weapon consisting of a handful of rushes; for this seems to be the proper meaning of the words translated “a whip of small cords.”
The temple being thus cleared, some of the people ventured to ask of him by what authority he performed such an act. His extraordinary reply was, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” There is no evidence that there was any thing in the voice or gesture of Jesus upon this occasion which implied that he did not refer to the material temple whose massive grandeur rose around them. It is certain that his interrogators so understood him: for they replied, “Forty and six years was this temple in building; and wilt thou rear it up in three days?”
The evangelist John adds, “But he spake of the temple of his body.” We have no intimation that Jesus attempted to rectify the error into which they had fallen. And it is difficult to assign any satisfactory reason why he should have left them to ponder his dark saying. Human frailty is often bewildered in the attempt to explicate infinite wisdom.
Probably the fame of Jesus had already reached Jerusalem. His wonderful achievement, in thus cleansing the temple, must have excited universal astonishment. Many wereinclined to attach themselves to him as a great prophet. There was at that time residing in Jerusalem a man of much moral worth, by the name of Nicodemus. He was rich, was in the highest circles of society, a teacher of the Jewish law, and a member of the Sanhedrim, the supreme council of the nation.
He sought an interview with Jesus at night, that he might enjoy uninterrupted conversation, or, as is more probable, because he had not sufficient moral courage to go to him openly. In the following words he announced to Jesus his full conviction of his prophetic character: “Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God; for no man can do these miracles that thou doest except God be with him.”
Jesus did not wait for any questions to be asked. With apparent abruptness, and without any exchange of salutations, he said solemnly, as if rebuking the assumption that he, the Lamb of God, had come to the world merely as a teacher, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”
Nicodemus ought to have understood this language. The “new birth” was no new term, framed now for the first time. The proselytes from heathenism, having been received into the Jewish fold by circumcision and baptism, in token of the renewal of their hearts, were said to be “born again.” Jesus, adopting this perfectly intelligible language, informed Nicodemus that it was not by intellectual conviction merely that one became a member of the Messiah’s kingdom, but by such a renovation of soul, that one might be said to be born again,—old things having passed away, and all things having become new. Nicodemus, who perhaps, in pharisaic pride, imagined that he had attained the highest stage of the religious life, was probably a little irritated in being told that he needed this change of heart to gain admission to the kingdom of God; and, in his irritation, allowed himself in a very stupid cavil. “How can a man,” said he, “be born when he is old? Can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?”