12 - The Parting of the Ways

The picture Paul saw in his vision became indistinguishable from the one in the flesh. The face and hands of the stoned preacher pursued him relentlessly, so that later that same night he felt compelled to go back to the stoning field.

Oh, not that he doubted the justice of the “sentence” carried out against the blasphemer. But the preacher’s utter certainty, his ecstatic face, and his dying cry, “Father, forgive them,” these things filled him with restlessness. Didn’t the blasphemer’s rabbi say the same thing just before he died? But where do they get the strength for such a thing?

Now to give up one’s life for the cause of God was the highest achievement of which man was capable. It fulfilled the great commandment, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your soul.” But Saul could never admit that these men drew their strength from God, so there must be some other explanation.

The Evil One also possessed powers that he gave to his own. This was clearly seen in gladiators who fought wild beasts or each other in the arena, or in those who castrated themselves in the presence of idols. No doubt about it; evil also had its gifts of power. But how could one tell whether such self-sacrifice came from true sanctity or from the fountain of evil? Saul’s assurance lay in the fact that under absolutely no circumstances could one hanged on a cross be Messiah!

But no matter what he told himself, his restlessness wouldn’t go away. It drove him through the dark narrow alleys of the lower city that night and out through the Dung Gate beyond the walls. He knew he wasn’t going through his own will. Irresistible need drove him to seek confirmation of the justice of what had been done.

When Saul reached the summit and looked down into the hollow he was startled into jumping backwards.

In the dimness among the stones below, he could see flickering wicks of oil lamps like little points of light moving about. Dark forms swam here and there and he could hear a murmur of voices. Torches were being lit, and Saul saw some men lifting up the body of the stoned preacher.

The crowd grew larger as more lights came into view, and as Saul’s eyes adjusted he was amazed to see that some important leaders among the scribes and Pharisees were there. He recognized rabbi Nicodemus and some of his pupils, as well as Joseph of Arimathea. Some of rabbi Gamaliel’s pupils were there as well. They all acted as men act at the burial of a great saint.

Saul drew his mantle up over his face, so as not to be recognized, and slipped into the funeral procession. He heard words of praise for the dead man given, not just by the man’s companions, but also by scribes and Pharisees. They freely exalted the blasphemer as a saint, and condemned the execution as an act of murder.

“What was the point?” Saul asked himself. “We tried to make an example of him, and just the opposite has happened. It hasn’t weakened them; it’s made them stronger.”

Many in the group went so far as to envy the dead man. When they reached the burial place, there were speeches in which the dead man was openly and publicly called a martyr and a saint. They said his death was a testimony to the coming of Messiah. He’d been privileged to drink of the same cup of sorrow and suffering as Messiah. There was no higher privilege reserved for man.

It wasn’t in Paul’s nature, of course, to be intimidated by the words and thoughts of others. What all of this did was to make him realize the vast extent of the danger at hand. If sages and teachers and prominent rabbis could allow themselves to participate in the funeral of a blasphemer, then it was indeed ill with Israel.

Paul’s zeal for the Lord was strengthened that night. He was convinced more than ever of the justness of his cause. Heaven and earth may have to be moved, but the fire lit by the men of Galilee must be extinguished.

The next morning when Saul went to the schoolhouse in the court of his master, he was treated like an outcast. No one approached him or even returned his greeting. His friends of yesterday turned their faces away, and those who had known him knew him no longer. He stood alone in a corner of the study house saying the morning Shema.

Behind him he heard someone say, “We say the Shema this morning in the company of a murderer. Is this permitted?”

Saul didn’t respond, nor did his faith waver. He was totally certain that he was not moved by personal feelings but rather by the will of God. Let heaven and earth tremble. Yea, let angels bear witness against him; he could not be diverted from his path. He took take any insult they could dish out. This was a test ordained by God, and he was willing to bear the spear of Phineas.

“For Your sake I will bear all things,” he prayed in his heart. “I will make my body a target for their arrows, that Your will may be done.”

This didn’t mean, of course, that Saul wasn’t hurt by all this. He still needed human companionship. Heavenly joy couldn’t completely replace the warmth of a living heart or an understanding ear. So he tried to find someone, anyone, in whom he could take human refuge.

He tried humbly to explain himself to people, to get them to understand his convictions. But it was in vain. No matter whom he tried to approach, they hurried away. No one would even listen. He had become like an unclean leper.

So he sought refuge in the corner of the study house, covered his face with his hands, and prayed, “You know, O Lord, that it wasn’t for my own honor, or the honor of my father’s house, that I did what I did, but only for Your Name’s sake, and for the sake of Your holy Torah.”

The brief prayer restored his inner balance.

A short while later, the overseer of the house came up to him, and without any greeting or response to Saul’s greeting, delivered a message, “Saul of Tarsus, you are asked to appear before your rabbi.”

With that he turned away without the farewell of peace.

Saul found Gamaliel waiting for him in the large lecture room. He was alone. That was not a good sign. The rabbi’s face was pale and weary; the face of a man bowed under a double load of years and sorrows.

Gamaliel responded To Saul’s greeting with a cold nod, so that Saul froze to his spot near the door. But Gamaliel motioned him to approach.

Without greeting or offering his hand, the rabbi said, “It has been reported to me that my pupil took part in the slaying of the just man, Stephen, the preacher of the Hellenist synagogues, without the sentence of the court.”

“My rabbi and my lord! Witnesses ratified the sentence according to the words of the Torah. And it was the witnesses who cast the first stones, even as Moses said.”

A verse from the Psalms came from the rabbi’s lips, “And to the wicked man God says, ‘Who do you think you are calling on my law?’ Without the sentence of the court the slaying was not a good deed, but murder! And all who had part in it are murderers!”

The blood left Saul’s face. He tried to form an excuse, but the rabbi’s words continued to fall like hammer blows.

“When God has reason to punish a teacher, he does it through his pupils. I laid awake all night trying to figure out what transgression of mine has been so heavy as to deserve such a calamity. But God is just, so surely I must have earned this affliction.”

Silence fell between pupil and rabbi. This was the sign that Saul could now withdraw, but he had no strength to move. His head fell low, until Gamaliel clapped his hands to signal the overseer who entered to escort Saul out.

But before he sent him away, Gamaliel spoke once more. “I am afraid for you Saul of Tarsus. The path you’ve chosen is narrow and perilous with an abyss on either side. Know this, that whoever falls into it is never lifted up. You sorely need the help of heaven. I will pray for you that God may open up the sources of love in your heart. For there are no signposts on this path. There is only one thread for you to hold onto. ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ This thread alone can guide you. Hold fast to it. It may yet save you.”

Those were the last words Saul ever heard from his rabbi, and the last time he ever saw him before setting out on the long and dangerous road of his life.