Chapter XXI

With the Master on Olivet

"Some spake of the Temple, how it was adorned with goodly stones and offerings."—Luke xxi. 5.

"One of His disciples saith unto Him, Master, behold, what manner of stones and what manner of buildings! And Jesus said unto him, Seest thou these great buildings? There shall not be left here one stone upon another, which shall not be thrown down."

"As He sat on the Mount of Olives over against the Temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew asked Him privately, Tell us, when shall these things be? and, What shall be the sign when these things are all about to be accomplished?"—Mark xiii. 1-4.

The Temple was the most sacred of all places, even before the Lord of the Temple entered it. His presence became its chiefest glory. In the hour when the waiting Simeon at last could there say "he had seen the Lord's Christ," it had a new consecration, and a beauty which its richness of materials and adornments had never given. In the hour when He there said to His mother, "Wist ye not that I must be in My Father's House?" or, "I must be about My Father's business," it was more consecrated still. Twice He had cleansed it from the profanation of unholy worshipers. Within it He had spoken as no man had ever done. It had been a theatre of His divine power.

That was a sad and solemn hour in the last week of His life when, as Matthew says, "Jesus went out and departed from the Temple." That was His farewell to it. With sadness He thought not only that He would never return to it for a blessed ministry of word and healing, but that the place itself would be destroyed. As He led His disciples from it, their minds were also upon the Holy House: but their thoughts were not His thoughts. They had long been familiar with its magnificence, from the day when each of them, at twelve years of age, for the first time had gazed upon it in wonder and admiration. We do not know why, as they were turning away from it and walked toward Olivet, "some spake of the Temple, how it was adorned with goodly stones and offerings," nor why "one of His disciples saith unto Him, Master, behold what manner of stones, and what manner of buildings!" But so they did. Doubtless they were surprised and disappointed that the Lord did not respond with like spirit to their enthusiastic exclamations. Were not such richness and beauty worthy of even His admiration? Why His momentary silence? Why His sadness of expression, as He looked toward the Temple, beholding it as they bid Him do, but manifestly with different purpose and feeling from what they intended? His appearance seemed most inconsistent with the glorious view. His response was startling,—"Seest thou these great buildings? There shall not be left here one stone upon another, which shall not be thrown down."

The astonished disciples were silenced, but an unspoken question was in the minds of some of them. Christ turned aside and ascended the mountain, taking with Him the chosen three, Peter, James and John. On this occasion Andrew is added to the private company. Once more we see by themselves the two pair of brothers with whom in their boyhood we became familiar in Bethsaida. We are reminded of the days when they sat together on the sea-shore, the time when they were watching for the coming of the Messiah with whom they now "sat on the Mount of Olives over against the Temple." Two days before, in the road below He had also prophesied of the destruction of the city, as He gazed upon it through His tears. Now He was on the summit, directly opposite the Temple, from which the city was spread out before Him. To me it is still a delight in thought, as it was in reality, to stand where they sat, and look down upon the same Temple area, and think of the Holy and Beautiful House, as it appeared before the sad prophecy had been fulfilled.

On this spot the poet Milman makes Titus to stand just before the destruction of Jerusalem, with determination and yet with misgiving, looking down on the city in its pride and the Temple in its gorgeousness, and saying:

"Yon proud City! As on our Olive-crowned hill we stand, Where Kidron at our feet its scanty waters Distills from stone to stone with gentle motion, As through a valley sacred to sweet Peace, How boldly doth it front us! How majestically! Like as a luxurious vineyard, the hillside Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line, Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer To the blue Heavens. Here bright and sumptuous palaces, With cool and verdant gardens interspersed; Here towers of war that frown in massy strength; While over all hangs the rich purple eve, As conscious of its being her last farewell Of light and glory to the fated city. And as our clouds of battle, dust and smoke Are melted into air, behold the Temple In undisturbed and lone serenity, Finding itself a solemn sanctuary In the profound of Heaven! It stands before us A mount of snow, fettered with golden pinnacles! The very sun, as though he worshiped there, Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs; And down the long and branching porticoes, On every flowery, sculptured capital, Glitters the homage of His parting beams. .... The sight might almost win The offended majesty of Rome to mercy."

But Roman majesty was not to be won to mercy. To the Twelve, Christ had foretold the destruction of the city. And now when the four were alone with Him, they "asked Him privately, tell us when shall these things be." For wise reasons Jesus did not tell. But one of them at least would learn both when and what these things would be. This was John. His tender and loving heart was to bleed with the horrible story of the fall of Jerusalem. There hunger and famine would be so dire that mothers would slay and devour their own children. Multitudes would die of disease and pestilence. Rage and madness would make the city like a cage of wild beasts. Thousands would be carried away into captivity. The most beautiful youths would be kept to show the triumph of their conqueror. Some of them would be doomed to work in chains in Egyptian mines. Young boys and girls would be sold as slaves. Many would be slain by wild beasts and gladiators. Saddest of all would be the Temple scenes. Though Titus command its preservation his infuriated soldiery will not spare it. On its altar there would be no sacrifice because no priest to offer it. That altar would be heaped with the slain. Streams of blood would flow through the temple courts, and thousands of women perish in its blazing corridors. The time was to come when John, recalling his question on Olivet and his Lord's prophecy concerning Jerusalem, could say,

"All is o'er, Her grandeur and her guilt."

Was he the one of the disciples who hailed the Master, saying, "Behold what manner of stones, and what manner of buildings!"? If so, with what emotions he must have recalled his exclamation after the prophecy of their destruction had been fulfilled. Outliving all his fellow-apostles the time came when he could stand alone where once he stood with Peter and James and Andrew, not asking questions "When shall these things be?" and, "What shall be the sign when these things are all about to be accomplished?" but repeating the lament of Bishop Heber over Jerusalem in ruins:

"Reft of thy son, amid thy foes forlorn, Mourn, widow'd Queen; forgotten Zion, mourn. Is this thy place, sad city, this thy throne, Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone; Where suns unblessed their angry luster fling, And way-worn pilgrims seek the scanty spring? Where now thy pomp, which kings with envy viewed? Where now thy might which all those kings subdued? No martial myriads muster in thy gate; No suppliant nations in thy temple wait; No prophet bards, thy glittering courts among, Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song: But lawless force and meagre want are there, And the quick-darting eye of restless fear, While cold oblivion, 'mid thy ruins laid, Folds its dank wing beneath the ivy shade."