Jesus arrives in Jerusalem and enters the Temple. The fig-tree is not in bloom, and the Temple is not in order.The King in His Throne-Room He had been here before and found then What he found now: the defiance of the proud. He looked for mercy and found sacrifice, For contrition, found complacency and, Where worship should have been, he Found tables dripping with money and Stained with the blood he saw on the hands Of the proud, the money-changers, who Manned these tables. Whip in hand, zeal in His heart, he – now, as then – tipped them all over, Burning with all the anger of the king who Had come to find his lands mismanaged, his Crown mislaid, his throne in disrepair and His regent in the bedchamber of his dearest bride. The king shook the temple’s dust from his feet. Outside, the fig-tree withered and died.