The city of Jerusalem teemed with Passover celebrants. Children bounced gaily in the streets. Beasts of burden, carts, merchandise and merchant booths erected everywhere. It was hard to move about without bumping into someone, or being taken by the arm and guided to a place where wares, both household and cloth, were to be admired and examined.

The trip from Capharnaum had passed without significant event; unusual where Jesus was concerned. Within Herod's Temple, in the Court of the Gentiles, customers argued with merchants over prices of sacrificial animals. There were men selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. Condiments sat about for the taking. Wine, bread, skewered meats, figs, all for a price. The great Temple had ceased as a place of worship. It had become a marketplace, perhaps having once provided a reasonable service to those traveling from far distances, but now had become a floor for exchange, a snake pit of religious commerce. Jesus did not much care for religious commerce.

He entered the Temple quietly, unobtrusively. He was not noticed. Like any other seeker of sacrificial commodities, he wandered from table to table, shopping, as it were. Inside of him, his stomach churned. Fury mounted. One merchant waved the wings of a flapping turtledove in Jesus' face, bidding him to purchase "a worthy sacrifice for the sins of your children." Another grabbed him by the arm, pulling him toward an obviously sick sheep that could be had for "such a choice price." But the worst were those who hawked, "Buy this item, and get a prayer stone blessed by a priest--as a gift." Signs announcing these things and other religious merchandise spread everywhere in profusion. "For a donation of thirty sesterces (Roman coin), we will make a gift to you of this lovely miniature Menorah." Smoke and haze hung lazily in the air. Loud haggling. Merchants discussing with fellow merchants the blatant stupidity of the "bucolic rubes, buffoons" or, those that bought. Customers discussing among themselves the inflated prices. "Robbery!" someone complained. "Predator profits!" exclaimed another.

A richly dressed man of obvious wealth paid outrageous prices for several lambs, each pure white and without blemish, his polished fingernails selecting each one. He selected one for himself and one for each member of his family. "Had I charged him less," said the merchant, "he would not have bought them. Such a man is insulted by cheap prices."

A woman, by her dress abysmally poor, looked at the solitary coin in her hand and looked again at the doves for sale. Closing the tiny disk in her fist she gazed disconsolately at the ground, and then she turned, a tear in her eye, and walked away. "Come back," cried the merchant after her, "when you've enough to pay for your sins old woman!" Laughter. Business was good. Had it not been, he might have negotiated his price. He charged what the market would bear. That was, of course, the prudent thing.

Jesus stopped at the table of a merchant selling leather from the hides of camels. He purchased eight or ten lengths of leather used for harnesses. The leather was thin, but supple and strong. Next, he purchased a handful of bone shards and pieces of metal. These things could be purchased because, it seems, business had a pervasive way of spreading itself beyond sacerdotal requirements. Separately, these items were innocuous enough, nothing more than decorative pretties. Together, they formed the substance for something else entirely. There was money to be made, and wherever this condition existed, greed found a way to be innovative. Finally, he purchased a belaying pin, used in Galilean fishing boats.

Jesus found a shadowed corner of the Temple. Taking his time, he wove the end of the pieces of leather together and attached them to the belaying pin; the issue of which was a respectable handgrip. Then he inserted the shards of bone and bits of metal into the loose-hanging leather strips. Completing his craft, he had constructed a Roman instrument for punishment called a "scourge whip," or "Scourge of leather cords." Where had this man acquired knowledge of such a weapon? How came he to know of it, much less the skill of constructing one? Did he actually intend to use this vicious appliance? If not, why trouble himself with it?

With quiet deliberation, he approached a money changer's table. Jews from Asia, Rome, Greece and Egypt were trading in the Temple that day. The coin of their realm needed conversion to Temple currency--at a profit, of course. The coins were spread by denomination and stacked. This merchant in money had a gleam in his eye. Looking up at Jesus, he did not see the whip. "May I help you, noble sir?" he oozed. Only for an instant did he hesitate, then Jesus placed one foot on the table edge, and bracing himself, shoved. The table fell into the merchants lap. Coin flew in all directions. Before anyone knew what Jesus was doing, children and standers by began snapping up coin pieces for themselves.

Quicker than collective awareness could follow, Jesus moved from table to table shoving and overturning. Where people stood in his way, merchant and buyer alike, he used his whip. Shards of metal and bone tore through clothing. Cages crashed. Doves flapped away, sheep scattered, cattle jumped, lunged and bucked sending celebrants scurrying in every direction. Above the din and through it, feathers and debris flying, the roar of the Lion of Judah could be heard, "Take these things out of here! Move! Now! How dare you turn my Father's house of prayer into a lair for thieves and cheats!" Every door of the Temple that led into the streets opened and people and animals poured out into the city. After a few moments of chaos and confusion, it was over. The Courtyard of the Gentiles cleared of all but overturned tables and tapestry lying forlorn in residual dust.

It didn't take long for the Jewish authorities to regroup. They quickly assembled a contingent of Temple guards, and only then did they approach this warrior with a whip in his hand. With this armed support they indignantly demanded of Jesus, "What in the name of God do you think you are doing young man? Who do you think you are? What credentials could you possibly present that allows you to create such mayhem and destruction? What gives you the right to scourge our customers and colleagues of commerce?" Their anger and bravado obscured their fear. Had the Romans sent him? He did not look Roman or as if in the employ of Romans. He appeared no different than the rest of the rabble. No raiment of rank, no military cohort of his own. Who indeed is this brash young hellion? Does he think himself a prophet? If so, does he perform miracles to support his credibility? "What miraculous sign do you offer that you possess such authority?" They howled, barked and whimpered as hyenas in the presence of the king of beasts.

Miracles! Legalists are very impressed by miracles. They look for miracles under their beds and in every event under heaven. They are titillated by miracles. Jesus surmised their intentions. They hated him for what he had done in the Temple. They wanted to destroy him. They would erect any pretext to accomplish this. I will give them a miracle! thought Jesus, sweating and dirty from combat, completely aware of what these clod-headed fools wished to do to him. He struck his chest with his fist in defiance and shouted, "You wish to stop me? Then get you to it! Destroy this temple, and I promise you that I will raise it again in three days."

The Jews, for whom this boast was as enigmatic as the deed he had done replied, "This great edifice was begun before you were born. Forty-six years in its building, and you are going to raise it in three days?" The looks of incredulity were matched only by sneers of scorn and contempt. They had no concept of what Jesus meant or that he spoke not of Herod's Temple, but his own--the Temple that is his body.

Tossing the whip into the dirt, Jesus turned from his antagonists and walked away. Paralyzed, the Temple guards stared after him in disbelief or, just perhaps, in respect. While he was in Jerusalem for the Passover feast, many people witnessed this act and wanted to believe in him. The excesses of the Temple marketplace had been long despised. This brash young man had done something most had wanted to do for years but were afraid. Jesus placed little confidence in their admiration. He knew it would not last beyond the novelty of the moment. He did not need or listen to the opinions of men about himself or about other men. He himself knew human nature for what it was. He knew that one of the great weaknesses in human nature is greed and that marketing is its exigency. Commerce is the way of man. It is not the way of God. It is secular, not sacred. Place it in the context of worship, and worship is defiled.

A Roman soldier, one of the Temple guards, saw the whip lying unnoticed in the dirt. Idly, he walked over to it, observed it momentarily, bent over and picked it up. He handled it, testing its weight and balance, assessing its grip; satisfied, he disappeared into the crowd, the whip dangling from his waist-belt. It would live to serve another day.