Voices From the Ruins of Ancient Rome

 •  10 min. read  •  grade level: 12
 
STANDING amongst the ruins of the ancient temples and palaces of Rome, voices address us in the language of our own times, for Rome's past and our present are by no means strangers.
To the Bible reader, Rome possesses peculiar attractions, whether the prophetic words of Daniel, or of St. John, or of the Lord Himself be before him, or, indeed, the life and writings of the apostle Paul. The stranger does well, in visiting the city for the first time, first to place himself amongst the bewildering maze of ruined temples and palaces, which have for a sort of center the Forum—the Forum Romanum. The area they cover is not large, and we wonder how the thousands of Rome's citizens found standing room, to watch the triumphal pageants they loved so well, winding their glorious march along the Sacred Way, which; adorned with triumphal arches, ran through the very center of the temples and the palaces, the ruins of which form the maze that almost bewilders us.
Though it takes a considerable time to learn what the ruins once were, the Sacred Way, the Via Sacra, at once impresses its lessons upon the mind. Here are the very stones over which the victors and the vanquished passed, and under our feet are the deep ruts, cut into the flags by the chariot wheels of the conquerors. We fancy we hear the sound of the wheels, and where the deeply ground-in ruts turn sharp by the face of the Forum, we see the procession halt, while the captives and prisoners devoted to death are led into it, and thence to execution. As the procession climbed the hill of the Capitol the captives perished, their chief fault being courage, and love of country and freedom, for ancient Rome had no mercy for any generals who fought against her troops. Thus by the time the conqueror had gained the summit of the Capitol, and was ready to lay his crown upon the image of his god, Jupiter, the messenger had arrived announcing the death of Rome's enemies. Then with acclamations the crowd praised their gods, and iron Rome gloried in her devouring sword and the brave men slain in cold blood.
The sharp turn of the Sacred Way at the Forum, and the dividing at that spot of the vanquished from the pageant, recall the apostle's words, "a savor from life unto life"—"a savor from death unto death." The incense which was burned at the temple entrances as the procession passed by, was veritably a savor of life, and a savor of death. To the conqueror it was the odor of life, ending in glory; to the conquered, of death and dishonor. The apostle regarded himself and his companions in the Gospel as led by God "in triumph in Christ;"1 and he regarded the Gospel as the incense rising up to God in a sweet savor; and he looked upon men either as being saved—as reaching the goal of the conqueror's glory an d crown—or as perishing—nearing the shame of their doom. The parting of the ways on the road of life—our Via Sacra—as we apply this figure to ourselves, is solemn in the extreme. St. Paul ever had the end in view!
Leaving the Forum and the remains of the adjoining temples, and following the Via Sacra up the gentle slope, we presently reach the Arch of Titus. There is scarcely a spot in Rome more impressive. As we face the Forum and the Capitol, the mount of the palaces on the left comes into full view; on the right rises up the huge basilica of Constantine, overwhelming the heathen temples which surround it; behind us is the Coliseum, where eighty thousand Roman citizens could see the fierce shows they loved, of wild beasts and men in combat, or of Christian martyrs devoured by lions; while the Arch of Constantine, near the Coliseum, lifts itself at the foot of the slope which is crowned by the Arch of Titus. Here at one glance is the glory of ancient Rome, in temples and palaces; the overthrow of Judaism in the Arch of Titus; and the uprising of the glory of that strange mixture of paganism and Christianity which has since prevailed over Christendom, in the arch and basilica of Constantine.
For the present, we confine ourselves to the overthrow of Judaism as it is engraved upon the triumphal Arch of Titus.
It was a morning of brilliant sunshine as we stood gazing on the familiar form of this arch, which, resplendent in the light, rendered by contrast, the ruins around the Forum in the valley, somber and dull. Perhaps it was the light of nature which at once suggested the meaning of the position of the arch. The light-giver of the sanctuary of Jehovah—the seven-branched lamp stand of the temple of Jerusalem—portrayed upon the shoulders of laurel-crowned soldiers, is being carried into the gloom of the shrines of Rome's gods. The light of Judaism is being borne into the dark places of paganism! Paganism has triumphed; Judaism is laid low!
This suggestive design calls to mind the prophetic words of Christ on the destruction of Jehovah's temple, and also His solemn warning to His Church: "Repent... or else I will... remove thy candlestick out of his place." 2 Jehovah revealed Himself to Israel as a jealous God, and in His ways with them He proved Himself more jealous over their backslidings and rebellion, than over the reproaches of the heathen because the people who were called by His name were desolated by the hands of idol worshippers. And of the lukewarm Church, "neither cold nor hot," the indifferent professors of His Name-His Name on the lip, but His love far from the heart-Christ says, "I will spue thee out of My mouth." 3 He will vindicate His honor in Christendom no less than He has done in Judaism. There is no more solemn lesson graven on the monuments of pagan Rome than that of the lampstand, and the sacred vessels of Jehovah's temple, being carried in triumph into the idol-temples. It seems to resembled the original as ordained by Moses. But the base as represented on the bas-relief is certainly not Jewish, but pagan art. While Scripture gives no manner of hint as to the form of the base of the candlestick-though the branches and cups are most carefully described -Jewish tradition points to the base as being some three feet high. Now the silence of Scripture is to be noticed, as well as its detailed descriptions. The base of the light-giver within the sanctuary was, morally speaking, the earth have been preserved by divine providence in a peculiar manner, so that Christendom may behold in it the record of the fulfillment of the words of Christ against guilty Judea, and also the solemn warning to itself "Be not highminded, but fear: for if God spared not the natural branches" (of the olive tree-the light-giver), " take heed lest He also spare not thee."4
The engraving of the bas-relief on the left-hand side of the arch indicates in a general way the form of the lampstand, and no doubt it itself; the candlestick was placed upon the earth, as was the Jewish nation, and as is the Church, to give light. We are not, therefore, to be occupied with the form of the stand, but the position of it. It is generally supposed that the stand did not fall into the hands of Titus, but was destroyed with the temple.
The table of shewbread and the silver trumpets are also carved upon the arch. They are worn by time, and not seen so clearly as they were some three hundred years ago, when careful drawings were made of them, and when the double crown of the table could be easily seen. That table, whereon the twelve loaves —representing all Israel—were placed, in the presence of God, was also allowed by Jehovah to fall into pagan hands, and to adorn the pagan triumph. The bowls for the incense are represented, carried with the table upon the shoulders of the soldiers. Since the fall of the temple, no fragrance has arisen from Jewish worship to the Most High, and these empty cups of gold, on the day when the conquerors, adorned in the garments of victory, offered frankincense to the gods of Rome before their statues, were suggestive indeed of the emptiness of Judah.
Thus the hand of the heathen sculptor upon the triumphal arch has carved out for Christendom to behold, Israel's lost place on earth as the light-giver for Jehovah, and, with the lost light, her lost communion with, and her lost praise for, her God. The silver trumpets, too, are silent—those call-trumpets used for alarm in war, and blown, over the peace and burnt offerings.5
Yet more important than all the other spoils from the temple, was the Book of the Law, described by Josephus as the very climax of the pictured treasures. It had its place upon the sculptured arch. A record, now some four hundred years old, notes its place near the pieces of furniture which have occupied us. The placards which are represented as borne by the soldiers, were in all probability written descriptions of the nature of the spoils.
The arch as a whole, commemorating the overthrow of Judea, is a witness to the words of the Lord Himself, when—beholding Jerusalem in its glory, and the temple shining white and beautiful under the bright sunshine, with its resplendent upper front and plates of gold—He wept over it and foretold its doom.
The disciples, astonished at His words, inquired of Him concerning the fall of the city, and He declared that the enemy would cast a trench or rampart about it, slay its people, and overthrow its buildings.
These words, so strange to His disciples, were literally fulfilled, for Titus, finding his attacks on Jerusalem make but slow headway, eventually raised a rampart around its walls, better to starve out its defenders. To this day a considerable part of the course of this trench or rampart can be traced—a witness to the literal fulfillment of literal prophecy. Famine and pestilence, together with internal strife, ravaged Jerusalem, and at length, after the bloodiest of struggles, the Romans forced themselves into the city, and burned the temple. Over a million of souls perished during the siege, and nearly one hundred thousand were carried away captive.
Titus ordered both city and temple to be razed to the ground, and, says Josephus, speaking of Jerusalem's overthrow, "there was nothing to lead those who visited the spot to believe that it had ever been inhabited.”
“The abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing where it ought not," 6 was at least partially fulfilled at the overthrow of the temple. The abomination of a heathen nation signifies its idol, and the idol or symbol of deity of the Roman desolator, or of the desolation wrought by the Roman, was brought into the very sanctuary of Jehovah when the temple was captured. While the sanctuary was in flames the soldiers brought within it their triumphant eagles, and, setting them up by the eastern gate, offered sacrifices to them with shouts of joy. But no doubt a deeper fulfillment still awaits the words of Daniel the prophet.
Thus the glory of Jewish religion perished in its Christless surroundings—the Romans came and took away their place and nation, and the Arch of Titus tells out to us its own eloquent story.