The Tribute Money

IN the time of our Lord on earth a custom prevailed, which had grown up in Judaea after the captivity. Every adult Jew was required to give a defined sum for the service of the Temple. The amount was half a shekel, representing a present value of rather above a shilling of our money; but as the precious metals are now of far less worth than was the case eighteen hundred years ago, the half shekel tribute was really a heavy burden upon poor people. God had ordained a system of tithes for the support of the religious service in Israel, and this would fall upon all according to their respective prosperity. The annual toll of a given sum on everyone alike for the support of annual worship was not of Scripture origin. We remember the ransom-money of the half shekel paid by each Israelite which was devoted to the service of the tabernacle (Ex. 30:11-16), which had in it this great lesson, that, whether rich or poor, every man needs one and the same ransom paid for his soul-another principle altogether from that bound up in the custom of paying by a fixed rate for the maintenance of the temple of Jehovah.
This Temple tribute was regarded as a proper tax by the orthodox Jews. The Sadducees had tried to hinder it, but in vain, and probably to this fact, may be attributed Peter’s answer to the question of the receivers of the toll, when they inquired of him, “Doth not your Master pay tribute?” He was ever eager for the honor of his Master, and his ready “Yes,” would lead to the belief in the receivers of the money, that, without doubt, the preservation of the Temple, its services, and its wealth was a matter dear to the feelings of Jesus of Nazareth. But a greater than the Temple, and glories more exalted than even Solomon’s Temple had ever known, had but a few days previously been shining before Peter’s eyes. On the mount of transfiguration he had seen Jesus, had heard the excellent voice from heaven out of the glory-cloud, and had beheld Moses and Elias glorified in that glory with the Lord! Should the King of kings give tribute? Should He who is greater than all the Temples Israel ever saw, Jehovah-Jesus, contribute to the Temple’s support?
Doth not your Master―who is the King of kings―give tribute? would have been a strange question to put; but the receivers of the toll knew not the glory or the Person of the Lord, and Peter in his zeal seems to have forgotten it.
On Peter coming into the house, the Lord spoke before Peter could narrate what he had said, “What thinkest thou, Simon? of whom do the kings of the earth take custom (or tribute)? of their own children, or of strangers?”
“Peter saith unto Him, Of strangers?”
“Jesus saith unto him, ‘Then are the children free?’”
The sons of the king do not pay tribute, by virtue of their relation to the king, and in this liberty are the sons of God placed.
But what the Lord could not do as a matter of constraint, He could do in grace! And commanding creation, as it were, to render tribute to Him, He bade Peter, “Lest we should offend them,” go to the lake, cast an hook, and take up the fish that came up first. Someone had let fall a shekel into the lake, and a fish had seen it shining in the water, and had seized it, and in that fish’s mouth was found the money necessary to pay the tribute for two persons. “That take,” said the Lord, “and give unto them for Me and thee.”
The almighty power of the Lord and His perfect grace stand here before us. In grace He linked Peter with Himself― “for Me and thee”―and yet in so doing wrought with wisdom and with power, which none other than He could do.
On another occasion the Pharisees and the Herodians (that is, the religious party and the court party of Judaea, as we might say―the church and the world) joined hands to catch Him in His words. The upholders of the Temple of God and the chiefs of Herod’s palace made a union to overthrow Christ; so, commencing with flattery, they asked their catch question, “Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar or not? Shall we give, or shall we not give?” Over and over again the Lord answered questions to meet the state of soul of those who put them. He knew their hypocrisy, and said, “Why tempt ye Me? Bring Me a penny, that I may see it.” This was not a coin devoted to Temple use, as was a Jewish shekel, but a coin current in Judea, then under Roman sway.
“And they brought it. And He saith unto them, Whose is this image and superscription? And they said unto Him, Cζsar’s. And Jesus answering, said unto them, Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s; and to God, the things that are God’s.”
His words cut asunder their union. He never did and never will tolerate the combination of the church and the world, and all kinds of such union are really but dishonor to God and denial of the truth of His word.

The Story of Jacques Roger.
Chapter 8.
Church Order and Fanaticism.
WE have seen how the fair hopes of the Protestants, on the opening of another reign, had been doomed to disappointment. Excepting in name, the feeble, sickly, little Louis XV., raised to the throne at five years of age, necessarily for very long had nothing to do with the government of his wide dominions, as Philip, Duke of Orleans, who had been appointed Regent, held the reins. The Huguenots had hailed the coming into power of one who was considered a humane and enlightened prince, as the day-star of their deliverance. At first it seemed as if that expectation might be realized, for the duke saw plainly the enormity of the error of the Edict of Nantes, and deplored that such a fatal political mistake had caused the emigration of the flower of the sons of France; he had even thought to repair the cruel injustice by recalling the fugitives.
Had the Regent been possessed of as much energy as of humanity, he might have carried his point; but, being of a weak character, he was easily dissuaded by his counselors, who nipped in the bud all his wise projects of toleration and pacification, representing what tremendous agitation must result in the kingdom, from the triumphal return of five hundred thousand Protestants.
It was but too soon apparent that the oppressed people of God in France had nothing to hope for from one who had not sufficient strength of purpose to carry out his own convictions. Having failed in his merciful intentions as to the reformed, the Regent became engrossed in other important affairs of state, and thought no more of them. But others in the kingdom were far from sharing his indifference. Those who had for many years made it the object of their existence to stamp out Protestantism in France were still in power, and had no idea of losing the fruit of their persistent labors by a change of government; the old state of things, they determined, must still go on, and persecution to the bitter end continue to be the order of the day.
To the immense relief, however, of the Protants of Languedoc, the ferocious Bâville, in the year 1718, was recalled to Paris. For thirty-three years he had despotically ruled as intendant in that province, and during all that time had not left it for one single day. The awful story of the daily executions, with which in utter sang-froid he carried out his system of government, is too terrible for our pages. The wheel, the scaffold, the fiery pile, were of every-day occurrence, he himself being frequently present to gloat his eyes on the tortures inflicted on his helpless victims. A French historian writes of him, “The gift of serenity in blood was never, perhaps, carried so far.” It is said that during the term of his administrative career he caused twelve thousand Cevenois to be put to death.
This long list of martyrology was closed by the execution of the promising young preacher, Etienne Arnaud, who was captured when returning from a meeting which he had held at Alais. On the 22nd January, 1718, he was hung in that town before an immense crowd, giving bright testimony for Christ to the end. Thus perished the first of the little band, who had gathered together at that memorable synod which laid again the foundations of the church in France.
Antoine Court felt this loss keenly, but was much comforted at this crisis by the coming of Corteiz, who willingly joined him in an effort to break fresh ground in districts where no gospel testimony had been given for very many years.
An unexpected perplexity soon brought their tour to an abrupt end. Being both unordained preachers, the right of their mission was contested by those to whom they would minister. When challenged as to their credentials, Corteiz produced some old papers, giver him by some refugee pastors; but Antoine stopped him, pointing to the Bible, as his authority, then, thinking better to satisfy the objectors: told them of the permission granted him by the synod. The renown, however, of this small, but important synod had not reached those outlying regions, and the preachers were scornfully rejected, and sent about their business. As they pursued the mountain path, they talked over Roger’s oft-repeated advice, that one of them should undertake the perilous journey to Geneva to seek ordination, and decided that Corteiz, who could be the most easily spared of the two, should start as soon as feasible, and that Court should proceed thither on his return.
Arrived in safety at the end of his desperate journey, Corteiz’s troubles rather began that ended. Geneva, in dread of attracting the wrath of France, dared not ordain a pastor to labor in that country, and sent the candidate on to Zurich. Here all the objections that had been formerly made to Roger’s ordination again arose, and with more apparent reason, for Corteiz had had far less education, being unable even to write his own language correctly, having to request, when his letters were sent about, that the spelling might be first corrected. But compensated by the eloquence of his sermons for what was lacking in learning, he at length succeeded in overcoming all scruples, and, having obtained the wished for ordination, returned in triumph to France, after a five months’ absence.
Court then asked permission from the synod to go in his turn, but was met with endless objections: it was too late in the season, there were a thousand perils to encounter, what would become of the church if this expedition were to cost him his life? Then a bright thought struck them―Corteiz should perform the ceremony! An old Christian, named Colom, was appointed to assist him in examining the young preacher, who, from his superior standpoint, had no difficulty in acquitting himself with honor.
In the dead of an autumnal night (November 21st, 1718) the ordination took place, in the presence of all the Protestants of the neighborhood, who, with tears and cries of joy, welcomed among them the duly appointed pastors, feeling that at length their proscribed religion was rising from the depths of ruin into which it had fallen.
The principal aim in restoring an ordained ministry was effectually to silence the fanatical teachers, who still held great sway over the Protestants. Fanaticism had taken deep root in the early days after the revocation, when those who were considered to be inspired of the Holy Spirit had traveled the length and breadth of the country, stirring up their co-religionists, and re-animating their flagging courage.
This mysterious movement was begun by young children, under ten years of age, principally little girls, who wandered from hamlet to village, singing hymns, repeating Psalms, making sorrowful predictions, or giving rousing exhortations, generally in terms adopted from the Apocalypse or the prophets. “The Inspired,” as they were soon entitled, were subject to singular agitations; they would roll on the ground in convulsions, or fall into ecstasies, and give way to every species of religious frenzy.
There was in those days no attempt at deception, indeed, the childish years of the juvenile prophets and prophetesses precluded all thought of attempt at imposture. It is, therefore, difficult to give a clear explanation of the mystery. The only solution, that offers itself, is, that it was the natural result of intense mental pressure on nerves, strained to the utmost tension by the terrible scenes, through which the poor little creatures were passing. After attending weird midnight meetings, awful stories of torture and death being recounted by the parents with bated breath, on the homeward way, it is no wonder that with overburdened hearts and reeling brains they would have frightful nightmares, in which they received imaginary revelations. These, in wild excitement, they would relate on the morrow to their companions, who became quickly infected with the same spirit, until the band of the Inspired numbered some thousands.
Their ardent appeals had doubtless SOME good result, in a time when the faith of the reformed was rapidly dying out under the horrors of persecution, combined with the entire lack of spiritual teaching.
The tender years of the little prophets and prophetesses were no safeguard against the attacks of the Papists, and shortly the prison! were so full of children that there was no room for graver offenders, and Bβville flattered himself that he had completely crushed the movement.
In the year 1700, however, occurred a revival of fanaticism, the childish Inspired being replaced by people of mature years, mostly men, whose influence was no less widespread, and far more disastrous to the cause of Christ. Prophecy now took a warlike turn, and instead of pointing the faithful to hope in God, spurred them on to take up arms against the oppressor, which culminated, as we have seen, in Languedoc and Vivarais, in the Camisard rebellion. After four years’ struggle, this insurrection met its death blow by the desertion of its most brilliant leader, Cavalier, who entered into treaty with the enemy. The other chiefs either come to violent deaths, or fled the country; the Camisard bands, being utterly routed, dispersed.
Now came the third phase of “The Inspired,” and the one with which we cannot but feel, in its first workings, the most sympathy. When despair had laid its chilling hand on the heart of the strongest, when no man was found to gather together the smoldering embers of what had once been a beacon-fire for God, a few noble women came heroically forward, full of faith, devotion and self-sacrifice, bent on arresting the dissolution of true Christianity in their native land. In the desert they rallied together any of their own sex, who, in this desperate crisis, yet dared to come out to hear of Christ. In tender, loving tones and with many tears, they sought to bring their auditors back to repentance and to the early faith of their fathers. As the assemblies increased in size, and gradually included men, the prophetesses adopted a more stimulating language to arouse their crushed spirits and drooping courage; but they still maintained a different style from their predecessors, being more affectionate, more natural, more soul-stirring.
It has often been remarked that, in times of extreme weakness and failure, God makes special use of women, and no doubt it was His hand that now brought these to the front. We should have honored them the more had they retired again into privacy on the accomplishment of the service to which they were called. But, intoxicated by their very success, they maintained the place of leadership, and, falling under the influence of the old Camisards, they drifted from the testimony of Christ to preaching revolt. We have seen how deeply tried Roger was with this state of things on his first return to France, and how great a hindrance he found some of these very prophetesses who had done good service for the Lord, though most of the originators of the movement were now languishing in prisons, paying the penalty of their fearlessness.
To silence the Inspired had been the main point of the propositions drawn up at the first synod. Unfortunately, two of the former prophets, Huc and Vesson, who had signed that document, were the first to violate it. They became the leaders of that party which they had pledged themselves to combat, and now headed a formidable sect in opposition to the pastors, who thus sadly experienced the trial of false brethren within, added to the many perils from without.
To counterbalance the disappointment caused by the desertion of these two men, through whose influence with their former associates much had been hoped, Roger had the joy of welcoming Martel back to France, to stand again by him in the gospel, and also of receiving Villeveyre as a proposant! ―i.e., a candidate for the ministry.
Together they took up the Lord’s work in the neighborhood of Bourdeaux, where for six months they labored with much encouragement, the people assembling in numbers of from four to five thousand, and as often in broad daylight as at night.
In spite of frequent warnings from the preachers as to the risk of publicity, the Huguenots seemed to delight in throwing off the veil of secrecy, that had so long enveloped them. Clement Marot’s psalms of praise sounded loudly and cheerily across the hills, down the village streets, and through the workshops. Not only did the bolder among the reformed openly announce that they were going to the preaching, but the more timid waxed bold, and made no secret of accompanying them. Roman Catholics, falling in with the now popular movement, would present themselves also in the congregation, alas, many of them proving themselves to be but wolves in sheep’s clothing, ready to denounce to the authorities the peaceful company they treacherously moved among. As a natural consequence the old story of persecution was repeated. The priests represented to the government that the Protestant assemblies were but a hot-bed of revolt, and that on the pretext of religion, the Huguenot preachers were stirring up the people to rebellion. They asserted that an enormous amount of fire-arms and gunpowder had been sent into the Valley of Bourdeaux, and that the peasants were arming themselves vigorously, in preparation for an outbreak.
A regiment was immediately dispatched to quell the supposed insurrection. It arrived at Bordeaux on January 13th, 1719, in a dense fog, which providentially favored the escape of those who were most compromised. Roger and his co-workers were happily at the opposite end of the valley, and, being early warned of the arrival of the troops, fled to the mountains. Not daring to take the well-known pass, which they had no doubt was in the hands of the enemy, they pushed their way through impracticable defiles up to their knees in snow. Fully expecting to be pursued, as they had been eighteen months before, they very rarely ventured to seek shelter under any friendly roof. They wandered about the snow-clad mountains, braving the wintry storms, during the whole of the three weeks the troops held possession of the valley, and thought themselves fortunate if able occasionally to secure a night’s rest in some cave or den of the earth.
The regiment on arriving at the Valley of Bourdeaux advanced upon the village in hostile array, prepared to fire a discharge of musketry on the peaceful inhabitants. Only a few unsuspecting peasants appeared, who, to their surprise, kindly offered them the hospitality of their houses.
Such conduct would have disarmed any but the savage soldiery of that day, who seemed incapable of any gentler feeling. They rapidly devastated the smiling valley, treating it as a conquered country, and threatened a general massacre, according to Count Mιdavid’s order, meanwhile inflicting every possible outrage on the unfortunate peasantry.
The colonel of the battalion, happily, was of a more humane turn of mind, and, touched by the submission of the unhappy Huguenots, represented to the court that the king had no more faithful subjects than they. The merciless reply to this appeal was an order to destroy seventy-two houses in the valley. But the colonel, who seems to have taken the law into his own hands, reduced the number to eight, which he demolished one Sunday, the Protestants themselves being compelled to assist under penalty of the scaffold.
The preachers hailed the departure of the troops with joy, and hurried back to the scene of devastation to console the sufferers with the comfort, wherewith they were themselves comforted, of God.