04 - Stiff-Necked People

A rather perplexing problem presented itself to the artisans of the Roman Empire. The smiths, metal workers, and sculptors had to figure a way to transform the feeble, effeminate features of Caesar into a mighty image of a Jupiter, fit to be placed in the temples of all the provinces, while at the same time staying as true to the mortal original as possible. Caligula was short with a narrow forehead, tender cheeks, and curved nose. His one outstanding feature, if it could be called that, was his receding chin. This, along with his dangling lower lip and little blinking eyes, reduced the artists of the empire to despair. The sculptors in Sidon had an added complication due to their local style. The statue they finally turned out for the Jerusalem Temple had a typical Asian cast of features. The nose was flat and broad. The head, reared on a thin slender neck, the one detail that was true to Caligula’s picture, produced the effect of a caricature.

Petronius, Proconsul of Syria and a man of classical education, first saw the statue when he arrived with his legions in the harbor of Ptolemaeus. He had an extremely difficult time repressing an explosion of laughter. The hideous face on top of a comical neck rising out of a gigantic Jupiter-body was too much for him. He said nothing, of course, partly because he knew that any disrespectful remark would certainly reach the ear of Caesar, and partly because he had learned from his predecessor in office, Vitellius, of the obstinacy and inflexibility of the Jews. He knew from his own sources that the Jews had abandoned their fields and were streaming en masse toward Akko, along with their scholars and priests, to protest the image’s appearance, and he had no intention of encouraging them in their refusal to admit the statue to their Temple.

His first thought was that somehow they’d heard how grotesque the image was and were coming to protest against having such a monstrosity in their beloved sanctuary. He couldn’t help but be sympathetic to that view, so he was already hatching a compromise solution. Perhaps he could prevail on Caligula’s friend Agrippa to convince Caesar to take away the hideous statue and substitute one of the masterpieces of Phidias or of Praxiteles that Caligula had brought from Athens to Rome. After all, the Temple in Jerusalem was one of the most famous sanctuaries in the Roman world, and obtaining a work of art worthy of their venerable religious tradition would be a good way to win the gratitude of the Jews.

At least ten thousand men, women, and children had already poured into Akko from the Jewish countryside, and still they continued to arrive. They were of all classes and all were in mourning. Some had sprinkled ashes on their heads. They chanted songs of lamentation, filling the air with doleful sound. The Greeks in Akko stared in astonishment. There was an atmosphere of unspoken fury and hidden insecurity filling the little harbor. Many men carried scythes and shepherd’s staves, formidable weapons in the hands of an enraged multitude.

Now Petronius was a skillful Roman administrator with a sense of justice. He was so dedicated to Roman order and peace as to virtually worship them. This sense of justice caused him to seek insight into the local customs and traditions of the people he was sent to govern, and he sincerely wanted to avoid outraging their sensibilities. But he was also, first and foremost, a Roman soldier, and a challenge to the emperor’s edict had to be met squarely.

As he stood there he studied the multitudes. He marveled that they’d dragged themselves through the heat, for there’d been no rain for three months. He knew their intentions were peaceful despite the staves and scythes. They had, after all, brought their women and children. Also, their spokesmen were Aristobulus and Helius, brothers of King Agrippa. They’d also been educated in Rome and were counted friends of Caesar. Nevertheless, he took no chances. He stationed his fully armed legionaries at strategic places around the forum and the marketplaces, strengthening them with bands of mounted German auxiliaries. Only when he felt certain that he had the situation well in hand, and that his men were ready, at a moment’s signal, to hurl themselves on the masses, did he admit the spokesmen to his presence.

He’d already decided they could be placated with an acceptable work of art as a substitute. So he was literally stupefied when the spokesmen told him it wasn’t the unworthiness of the image that offended them. Under no circumstances, they said, would they permit any likeness of any man of flesh and blood to desecrate their sanctuary. Such a proposal was contrary to their faith, and they were prepared to lay down their lives rather than allow it to be carried out. It was for this reason, and no other that they’d left their fields and shops and come in such multitudes to petition the Proconsul.

Petronius was speechless. These men spoke Latin, and they’d been educated in Rome. Aristobulus had played with Caesar’s children in his youth. They wore Roman togas, for goodness sake. And yet this Aristobulus was saying things incomprehensible to a Roman. It was against their law to place an image in the Jewish sanctuary? What sort of law was it that would openly defy Roman law? And what made them so special? There was not a single nation that had not been delighted to place Caesar’s image in their temples and to offer sacrifice to him as a god. Their gods had shown no jealousy. They considered it a compliment to be considered a brother-god to Caesar. It was only the Jewish God who was too jealous to allow another to share his honors.

Petronius now understood that all the fantastic stories told him concerning the inexplicable obstinacy of these eternal troublemakers had been right. He had to call on all the strength that Roman discipline provided him and remind himself of his importance as Rome’s representative, in order to keep from losing his temper.

Quietly and with an ironic smile, he said, “If the statue produced by the Sidonian master is unworthy of your great Temple, I will intercede for you and ask Caesar to send a statue covered with gold and produced by the best Greek artisans. For I’ve heard that your God is a great lover of gold. And with the help of your king Agrippa, perhaps we can persuade Caesar to treat your God with the dignity which you regard as his due.”

“If Caesar were to send us the Capitoline Jupiter, covered with gold from head to foot, or the great Zeus of Athens, we would not admit the image into our Temple.”

The Roman paled, and his blue eyes flashed.

“Am I to take this as a declaration of war on Rome? Is that why you brought multitudes with you?”

“No! We do not desire war with Rome. But we cannot transgress our law, which forbids us to recognize a man of flesh and blood as a god and to place his image in our Temple.”

“I am here to fulfill the decree of Caesar. My commands do not issue from your law. I do not need your permission. I have my legions.”

“The people will oppose them.”

“Then your people will war against Rome?”

“If our people cannot war against Rome, it can at least die for its God and for the law of its God.”

“Hear me! I have been in many lands, and I’ve not seen anyone die for his god or his laws. I’ve seen people die only for Caesar and for the laws of Rome.”

“You will see it here, in Judea.”

“I am here to carry out the Roman law, not the law of Judea.”

With that the interview ended, and Petronius issued his command to a waiting legionary.


The Caesar-image lay on a wooden platform mounted on six wheels, draped in linens, like a mummy. On Petronius’ command, the linens were unwound as the image was slowly lifted into an upright position. The bronze head, covered with gold leaf, flashed in the sun. The Jews closed their eyes, so as not to see the abomination, but when the centurion gave the order to start the platform rolling toward Jerusalem, a terrific cry of lamentation went up from the vast assembly. And suddenly a living wall of flesh pressed forward until it surrounded the platform and the legion that accompanied it. Like sheep huddling against a storm the Jews pressed themselves together in the path of the monster.

The first wave of armed legionaries, headed by the mounted Germans, burst upon the wall of living flesh. It yielded, but it did not break. Wherever an opening was formed, a mass surged forward to close it. In vain did the mounted Germans force their horses against the solid mass of men, women, and children. In vain did the legionaries press forward, slashing wildly. Where one person fell, a dozen took his place. Like a rock in the midst of a raging flood, the wall of flesh and blood withstood the fury of the onslaught. There was no attempt at defense. They fell where they stood. Only a great wailing, a gurgling of pain and desperation, went up.

Petronius stood on the terrace of the government house and looked on. This was sheer madness. In his entire long and varied career, he’d never seen anything like it. It was obvious these people were not here to wage war, or to oppose Rome’s laws as such. No hand was lifted against the legionaries. If they would at least defy Roman law actively by fighting, he would feel justified in giving the command for a general massacre. But this was different. This was something not so easy to cope with. Amazingly, the Jewish representatives had spoken no more than the simple truth. These people would rather suffer annihilation than admit the image to their Temple.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. These fanatics would let themselves be slaughtered to the last man, and the land would be left desolate. What would be the point of dragging the image into an empty and abandoned Temple? No work was being done anywhere in Judea. Any Jews not already here were either on their way, or were assembling in the towns that lay on the road to Jerusalem. At the rate things were going there would be no Jews left to do homage to Gaius the god, or to offer sacrifice to the new divinity. Caligula wanted to be worshipped in a living shrine. To put the image into an abandoned temple in a depopulated land would be the greatest insult of all.

What a baffling situation.

Slowly Petronius came to the decision that the best thing to do was to do nothing. The only way out was to wait until he could advise Caesar of this extraordinary dilemma. Enough damage had been done to the prestige of Rome and the dignity of her law.

Having made that decision, other feelings began to well up in him, feelings akin to admiration. This was devotion to a god! And the wonder was even more incomprehensible when he reflected that the God for whom they offered their naked and defenseless bodies to the swords did not exalt them above their neighbors. On the contrary, their God had abandoned them to the fury of their enemies, and as far as he could tell, the only reward they earned for their faithfulness was misery. They were oppressed by the strong and despised by their neighbors. On top of that they bore a heavy burden of capricious laws. And yet – they were prepared to die for this God! What was the secret of this indestructible bond? What hidden bliss streamed out of the mysterious deity to inspire such fidelity? No other god in the Roman Empire commanded the obedience offered this unknown and invisible God of the Jews. Was it possible they had the answer to the question of what lay beyond death? Petronius was afraid to pursue these thoughts any further.

“Halt the procession!” he suddenly commanded.

And to his astounded entourage he said, “Caesar sent me here to place his image in the Temple so that the Jews might worship him. The dead cannot worship!”

And to the Jews he called out, “Return to your homes and your occupations! I will send a full report to Caesar. I would rather pay with my own life than be responsible for the destruction of so many lives offered up in the name of your God – and mine!”

The officers became paralyzed at such astounding words. The Jewish spokesmen stood silent and open-mouthed.

But from the mass in the square an ecstatic shout went up, “Hosannah! Hosannah!”

And just like that, all bitterness and despair were gone. Joy, exultation, and triumph filled the air, and the masses threw themselves to the ground in hope.

When Petronius turned to the Jewish spokesmen with a bewildered look, they pointed to the sky and said, “Look and see, Petronius, what your pious words have moved the Lord to do.”

Everyone looked up. The sky, which had been blazing blue, had suddenly darkened. The sun was covered by a gigantic mass of leaden, rain-bearing clouds. Slowly they marched across the sky with a little wind, breathing the freshness of hope. As the clouds passed overhead, the first gentle drops fell on the upturned faces, and three months of dearth ended.

“Hosannah! It’s the latter rain!”

It was a miracle and a sign! With the latter rain would come better and happier days.

“God has heard the pious words of a Gentile, and they have found favor with Him!” said the Jews to one another.