FOUR years after the accession of Antiochus (B.C. 172) Jason sent his brother Onias (not the former high priest) to Antioch to pay his tribute money to the king. And now he reaped what he had sown. Obtaining the priesthood by treachery and bribery, the same instruments were used to depose him. His faithless brother first of all flattered the king, and then offered three hundred talents more than Jason for the pontificate. His offer was accepted, and he returned to Jerusalem with the king’s commission. The very powerful family, “the sons of Tobias,” espoused his cause, but it met with a check from the Jason party, and the schemers were compelled to retire to Antioch. Here they promised the king that they would no longer observe their own laws, but would adopt the king’s religion, and the worship of the Greeks. It was the promise of apostasy, pure and simple. It gained the king, and, strengthened by his support, they returned to Jerusalem, and Jason fled. Onias followed his brother’s example, and adopted a Greek name―“Menelaus.” Menelaus was rather lax in the payment of his tribute, and being called to account, he laid hands upon the golden vessels of the Temple, and sold them at Tyre and elsewhere. Onias, the ex-high priest, sternly reproved his successor, who, “having the fury of a cruel tyrant, and the rage of a savage beast,” procured the murder of the faithful old man by treachery. The foul deed caused a great outcry; even the callous heart of Antiochus was touched by it, and he caused Andronicus, Menelaus’s instrument, to be put to death, but the real author of the crime escaped.
Menelaus increased in his wickedness; he laid ruthless hands upon the holy vessels, and, at last, the common people rose against him, but were met by a body of three thousand men, who, however, were routed, and Lysimachus, his brother and lieutenant, was killed. Menelaus, too, was accused at Tyre before the king by a delegation from the Sanhedrin, but his money was more convincing than the arguments of his arraigners. Antiochus acquitted the high priest, and condemned his accusers to death―so manifest a wrong, that the Tyrians gave them honorable burial.
About B.C.171, Antiochus invaded Egypt, and while there the rumor spread that he had died. It was joyfully believed in Jerusalem. Jason, the deposed priest, seized what he conceived to be a favorable opportunity, and with a thousand men made an attack upon the city, carried the walls, and slew his opponents without mercy. Menelaus at first fled to the castle, but ultimately got the upper hand, and Jason retreated, perishing at last in a strange land, detested by all.
Meanwhile tidings of the affair, magnified into a revolt, reached the king, together with information as to the joyful reception of the news of his death. Greatly enraged, he came like a hurricane upon the land. Taking Jerusalem by force of arms, he dealt death and destruction on every side, no less than 40,000 persons perishing in three days, while as many more were seized as captives. He went into the holy place, polluting it by his presence, Menelaus, the high priest, being his guide. He seized the golden candlestick, the table, the censer of gold, the vial, and other treasures. Nor was that all; he erected an idol-altar upon the holy altar of burnt offering, caused a great sow to be sacrificed thereon, and with a broth made of part of its flesh, he sprinkled all the Temple. Defilement could not further go. Then departing, he left in command one Philip, a Phrygian, a cruel man; but, worse still, Menelaus held his office.
In 169, Antiochus made another expedition to Egypt. His arms were very successful, but his triumphal progress was checked by a Roman ambassage, which met him at Leusine, four miles from Alexandria. The delegates were charged with the message, first to Antiochus, and then to Ptolemy, that it was the desire of the Roman Senate that the two warring powers should cease their strife, and that that one who refused should no longer be considered the friend and ally of the Roman people. The decree of the Senate was handed to Antiochus, who said he would consult his friends about it, but one of the ambassadors, Popillius, drawing a circle in the sand round Antiochus, demanded that he should give his answer before quitting that circle. Startled and alarmed by this peremptory demand, Antiochus gave way, and withdrew from Egypt, intending to pour out his wrath upon the unoffending Jewish people.
Two years had passed since Antiochus took Jerusalem, and he now sent Apollonius, the chief collector of his tribute, with an army of 22,000 men, to destroy the Holy City. They came, pretending peace, and on the Sabbath day fell upon the people. Men were slain, women and children were taken captive, houses and walls were pulled down, the city was set on fire. A fort was built in the City of David, from which the soldiers could harass the people. Jerusalem had indeed happened upon evil days. “Her sanctuary was laid waste like a wilderness; her feasts were turned into mourning, her Sabbaths into reproach, her honor into contempt.”
But this was not the full measure of Judæa’s woes. Antiochus passed an Act of Uniformity, compelling, on pain of death, all nations within his dominions to worship his gods and his alone. This was evidently directed against the Jews. To enforce his decree in Judea, he sent thither an old man, Athenæus, who was charged to pollute the Temple, to re-consecrate it to Jupiter Olympius, to forbid the ritual and offerings, to set up altars and groves, to sacrifice swine’s flesh and unclean beasts, to prohibit the circumcision of children, and to put to death all who disobeyed the king’s commandment. Most rigorously did he carry out this abominable decree. Many of the Jews, weakened by the inroads of Grecianism, at once gave way, but for those who remained faithful the days were dark and evil. All that a godly Jew prized appeared to be lost―Temple, priesthood and sacrifices. In the Temple, instead of the chant of psalm and song of praise, were heard the orgies of vile men and women. Incense was burnt in the streets, idol altars bestrewed the land, the scriptures were mutilated and burnt, and the owners put to death. The Jews were compelled to eat of the unclean sacrifices, and to carry ivy in honor of the god Bacchus. Women who dared to circumcise their children were brought forth, made to openly parade the city with their babes at their breasts, and then were cast headlong from the city walls, Others who secretly attempted to keep the Sabbath were burnt. The story is preserved of an aged Scribe, Eleazar, who suffered torments before his death rather than eat swine’s flesh; seven sons of one mother were taken, and by every possible means it was attempted to make these cast off faith and conscience; one was seized, his tongue cut out, and he was fried alive; the second was skinned, and so on with the rest, the survivors up to the seventh being made spectators of the torments of those who died before them, the mother being witness of all. The king addressed himself to the youngest son, assuring him with oaths that he would give him riches and happiness, and would make him his friend, if he would but turn from the laws of his forefathers. The mother turned to her son, “O my son, have pity on me.... Fear not this tormentor, but being worthy of thy brethren, take thy death, that I may receive thee again in mercy with thy brethren!” The son made a spirited reply to the king, and was slain. “They were whipped with rods,” says Josephus, speaking of the martyrs of that day, “and their bodies were torn to pieces, and were crucified while they were still alive and breathed.” “They were tortured,” says the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews, speaking, we doubt not, of the same sufferers, “not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection.” They were “destitute, afflicted, tormented.”
Had God cast off His people? Were His mercies clean gone forever? Was there no residue of the faithful left? Were all either apostates from, or martyrs for, their faith? No wonder if such questions troubled the minds of those who still maintained their integrity. Yet neither had God forsaken them, nor had He left Himself without those who had not bowed the knee to Jupiter.
Above the water-floods still did Jehovah sit, a King forever. And, humanly speaking, nothing but such a persecution could have purified and preserved the faith once committed to the Jews. That faith was being sadly corrupted with heathen dross; the fires of persecution, kindled for the purpose of consuming, proved to be a refiner’s fire; the dross was purged, and the precious ore was left brighter than it had been for years. That time of tribulation ended in a religious revival, the effects of which lasted till the coming of Christ.
But not only so, a patriotic spirit was infused into the minds of those who had for so long a time been subject to the nations: the blow was struck, and independence and liberty were once more the portion of Israel. At the time of the king’s decree, there dwelt at Modin (a place now unidentified), a pious Jew of the priestly line, Mattathias, a descendant of Asmonæus (from whom the family were called Asmonæans), of the course of Joarib. He had five sons, Johanan Caddis, Simon Thassi, Judas Maccabeus, Eleazar Avaran, and Jonathan Apphus. With true piety, Mattathias and his sons bewailed the evil days which had fallen upon Judah. To Modin came Apelles, the king’s commissioner, charged with carrying out the obnoxioner decree of uniformity, and addressing Mattathias, he called upon him as a ruler’ and an honorable and great man in the city, to submit to the king’s commandment, so should he be numbered among the king’s friends, and be greatly rewarded. Right bravely did the faithful priest reply that though all the nation should fall sway, yet would not he nor his sons. “God forbid that we should forsake the law and; he ordinances; we will not hearken to the king’s words, to go from our religion, either on the right hand or the left.” As he eased, a recreant Jew stepped forward to sacrifice upon the idolatrous altar. With the zeal of Phineas, Mattathias turned upon him and slew him, then dispatched Apelles, and pulled down the altar. It was the signal for revolt. “Whoever is zealous for the law, let him follow me,” cried Mattathias. Jr.