REUBEN – PURVEYOR OF FINE LINEN

Every year at the time of the Passover, we merchants could count on making a good portion of our yearly income. People from all over the country would arrive in droves to make their sacrifices and we’d be there waiting with open arms to sell our wares. It was a festival after all. The temple courts were the perfect place to set up shop. I suppose you could compare it to a modern-day state fair or farmer’s market. There were money changers who would change foreign cash into local. Since many were coming from far off countries, this was necessary. There were sellers of animals which would be used as blood sacrifices. There were purveyors of other goods, like precious oils, home remedies, dried and preserved meat and rich cloth which could be sewn into clothing or vestments. Some brought homemade flatbread and honey. I sold fine linen. I could always count on a good addition to my income during that week.

All of the merchants arrived early before the sun rose. We each had a spot reserved for us. Some would pay extra to be closer – especially those who had connections with the temple officials. I never thought of this as being wrong or inappropriate. We were only providing a needed service to those who took time out of their busy schedules to come to celebrate the Passover. The bonus from our good deeds would add a little more change to the purse.

Crowds began to flow in as the city came to life. I always enjoyed coming to Jerusalem during Passover. It was a time of remembrance for the Jewish people when they were delivered from their oppressors in Egypt. The temple was a beautiful site. Thousands of citizens were in attendance. The atmosphere was that of friendship – almost like a family reunion.

About eighteen years ago, when I first began to sell my wares, a family arrived from Nazareth. It was their tradition to celebrate the Passover every year in Jerusalem. I’d seen them before. Their 12-year-old son was eager to make his way to the temple. It would be another year before he was considered a young man of maturity, but he seemed to possess a great deal of wisdom already. As I watched him grow up over the years, I wasn’t disappointed. This lad was much different than the other boys. His focus was on the Scriptures and the goings on at the temple. He would continue to make his way to the Holy City every year until he was thirty years old. It was then that things began to change. The confident young man had captured the attention of the crowds. He was speaking words they recognized hearing from the Scribes and Pharisees, but his words gave hope to the people. He was preaching the good news of God’s plan for salvation.

This year He seemed to have hit a nerve with the people. There were large crowds following him. The temple leaders were shaking their heads at the sight of him. This rabble rouser was up to no good they thought. He must be silenced before riots began. As he passed by the huge group of vendors, you could see a look of disappointment and anger beginning to appear on his face. He seemed upset with those who were there to make a fortune. The boy I had watched grow into a man was on a mission. His anger began to slowly percolate. The once quiet, peaceful and gentle man started turning tables over, disrupting everything in his path.

When he came back three years later, He would enter the city as a champion – on the back of a donkey. People would lay their cloaks in his path and shout Hosanna to their king. It was then that I realized this was indeed the Messiah sent by God. A week later they would crucify him.