15 - Quicksands of Conscience

O Father in heaven Who probes the souls of men, open a little ray of light in the bottomless pit of the human heart that we may penetrate for a moment into its mysteries. For who can understand the dark things of life? What forces worked in the young man Saul for him to carry out the work of the evil one? For indeed his soul was the battleground between good and evil.

Saul of Tarsus became a sinister figure in Jerusalem. He kindled a fanatical hatred of the new sect in some of the darker elements of certain communities and made them his bodyguard. He persuaded them that if they did what he said, they would be performing the highest service to God.

One of his lieutenants was one-eyed Judah, a manumitted slave, a Goliath of a man, with a split upper lip and limbs that bore the marks of the chains he once wore. Another was Zebulon, who gathered a band of manumitted slaves of the Synagogue of the Libertines. He was a little man, but his body was close-knit and powerful, like an ox. He’d been a leader of a certain robber band made up of remnants of the scattered army of Judah the Galilean. He’d been captured by the Romans and condemned to the galleys, but had led a rebellion when the ship was in port and escaped. His name was feared in Jerusalem.

Besides these there were Samuel and Zadok from the loom, as well as seasoned guards from the High Priest. They carried whips and copper-tipped staves. People trembled at their approach. Saul went throughout the city with them, in the Temple courts, on the streets, and in the synagogues of the Hellenists. He also broke at will into the homes of members of the new sect.

His legitimacy was confined to those who offended against the accepted commandments, not against anyone who believed in Messiah or in the resurrection, for these things were not unlawful. This made the followers of James and Peter untouchable, for they were composed of scrupulously pious Jews who were observant in all details of ritual. He was also careful not to bring any charges that would incur the death penalty, for that would have required a meeting of the Sanhedrin and the presence of the Pharisees. Worse, it would have meant the intervention of the Roman authorities. Therefore he limited his accusations against members of the Greek-speaking communities of the new sect and to such transgressions of the law that sentence could be issued by the minor priestly court.

His method was to enter a synagogue alone, wearing the tablet of authority under his cloak. His men would enter first, one at a time, and scatter among the worshippers. They would start talking to people, or just listen to other conversations. If they heard anything that could be interpreted, even in the slightest way, as derogatory against the High Priest, or that lacked the proper reverence for the Temple, they gave a signal to Saul, who then ordered his guards in from the outside. The suspect was seized on the spot and carried off to the Temple court. There he was imprisoned and beaten by the guards until he confessed his transgression of the law. A trial and condemnation followed with little formality.

The most extreme penalty in the court’s jurisdiction was “the lash,” although there were different interpretations on how it could be used. A prisoner could be lashed as many times as it took to make him “repent.”

The name of Saul of Tarsus immediately became synonymous with the angel of death. Whenever his shadow fell on the Temple steps, people scattered. The Hellenists hid in their homes and in their tomb vaults. They dreaded to appear in the synagogue for fear of falling in Saul’s shadow.

But Saul knew the practices and habits of the Greek-speaking Jews and it wasn’t difficult for him to find them. He knew hundreds of them in person, and the ones most likely to have fallen under Stephen’s spell, so he pursued them into their homes without waiting for his guards to report to him. Besides his own memories, there were plenty of people willing to inform him of their activities. Jerusalem was a city of many divisions, and anyone who had a grudge against another had only to point him out as a member of the new sect, and he was taken.

And Saul wasn’t content to limit his activities to the daylight hours. He even invaded suspect homes at night, hauling away the father or mother or both, destroying the family. It became a never-ending cycle of prison, court and lash. Saul usually observed the beatings and sometimes even joined in.

The leaders of the Pharisees looked on in utter amazement at the terror the High Priest had instituted. But when the master rabbi protested to the High Priest, old Annas answered him piously, stroking his long white beard.

“God forbid that we should punish anyone for believing in Messiah, or even for believing in the resurrection. We only bring to judgment those who would destroy the law. It doesn’t matter if they are of the new sect or not. As long as one insults the Temple, or blasphemes the Law of Moses, we don’t ask whether it’s in the name of a false Messiah. We are doing your work, Pharisees!”

Technically, this defense was flawless. The Pharisees could only look on in ironic amazement at this sudden zeal on the part of the High Priest for Pharisaic traditions.


One day Saul sat in one of the cells of the Temple dungeon. His wild hair fell over his face and shoulders, for he’d taken a Nazarite vow on the day he entered the High Priest’s service. Joseph Nikator, a dyer whom Saul’s men had seized at his cauldron, stood before him. Saul knew Joseph well. They’d often prayed together. Joseph was a young man of twenty-four, a widower and father of two children. He was a day laborer employed in the dyer’s section of the valley right next to the goat’s hair weaver that Saul worked for. He wasn’t highly educated; he could barely say his prayers in Hebrew and his Greek was corrupted by many local Aramaic expressions.

But Joseph was deeply pious. He rose early every morning to attend synagogue before work, and didn’t return home till late at night. He was devoted to his congregation and was a willing worker. Saul had delighted in Joseph’s simple unshakeable faith that shone from his eyes, and in turn Joseph found in Saul a help in time of trouble. For the life of this simple man was troubled by many storms. His wife, with whom he’d been very close, had died, leaving him to raise their two sons. Work wasn’t always available and Joseph was too proud to apply to the public charities. Therefore, he often remained in his pitlike dwelling in the valley, hungering together with his children. Yet he never rebelled or complained. He was always joyful and found happiness in every little beam of sunlight. Saul used to love talking with him.

Lately, however, it was discovered that he’d fallen under the influence of the powerful preacher Stephen. He believed in Messiah and expected his coming at any minute. So now he stood before Saul, surrounded by guards with loaded whips. His face was swollen and streaked with wounds, the blood trickling down to his bare chest. Saul’s eyes were fixed sharply on his childlike face.

“When was the last time you brought a purification offering to the Temple?” asked Saul.

“A long time ago, before Messiah revealed himself,” answered Joseph in a quiet matter of fact way.

“Before Messiah revealed himself?” asked Saul.

“Yes, before he showed himself to the disciples and before the martyr Stephen had yet given us the good news.”

“And since then, you haven’t sinned or felt the need to bring a purification offering to the Temple?”

“From that time on my purification offering has been Messiah, who was tormented and died for our sins.”

Saul bit his upper lip and felt the sweat of anguish dampening his brow. He clenched his fists, feeling lost for a moment. If this had been one of the prominent members of the Greek-speaking community, his response would have been to watch the man’s punishment with joy. It would have refreshed him. But this childlike, innocent expression disarmed him. It was the exact same tone and expression he used to use to describe his faith in God the Father. It was the same unshakeable, rocklike foundation that had sustained generations. How could he destroy that?

“Joseph, my dear friend!” he cried. “Don’t you know that for refusing to fulfill a commandment you can be given the lash continuously until you are willing?”

“Saul, my brother, what can you do to me if Messiah has already come?” asked Joseph, lifting his eyes to the roof. “Who can do any evil against me when my soul is knit in redemption by my redeemer?”

“But, Joseph, this is idol worship!” cried Saul, as he felt his patience wane.

“No, Saul, my brother, it’s not idol worship. It’s the tradition of my fathers and the covenant of the patriarchs. We are not deceived. Messiah is true, promised by the prophets in the name of God.”

“Take him away,” shrieked Saul. “He blasphemes!”

Saul stood by while the servants of the High Priest laid Joseph across the threshold of the court, and laid their lead-weighted whips across his back. He watched as one bloody welt after another sprang up. Not a moan or a sigh escaped the young man’s lips. He surrendered his body in love to his tormentors, taking the lashes in the joy of his faith. The only sounds heard from him were words from the Psalms.

And now the lashes seemed to be falling on Saul’s own naked soul, and with every blow he clenched his teeth as though he were the one feeling the burn of it. He knew that the longer he watched, the more harm he did to himself. He knew that the foundations under him were being shaken. But he stayed at his post as though he needed to take this punishment on himself.


That night Saul lay on the hard bench that served as his bed, in the upper room of his sister Hannah’s house, praying, “Lord of all the earth, take pity on me! You’ve taken the children of men and thrown them into a dark jungle and said, ‘Find your own way through the labyrinth!’ How can we Father, when You’ve given authority to both the good and the wicked, and they war with one another. The authorities are confused and we sway this way and that. Father, open just one ray of light for me. You know my heart. You know that everything I do is for Your glory, and for Your holy Torah. What else is there but Your teaching and laws? Father, help me in my wretchedness. I’ve built everything on You. With You I’m the defender of Your Torah; without You I’m a sinner forever!”

His nephew Annas, who slept near his door, heard Saul’s groaning and came to him.

“Uncle Saul, what’s wrong? I hear you crying.”

The sound of concern in the lad’s voice seemed to awaken Saul.

“What difference does it make,” he asked, “to tear the fruit down piece by piece. It’s not the little ones who are guilty. It’s the great ones who mislead them. A great ax must be lifted up against the whole tree, and the fruit will die with it. It’s the great ones we must destroy.”

Early the next morning he set out with Judah on one side of him and Zebulun on the other, his guards following. He found the disciples in the temple court. James son of Joseph, Simon, and the brothers James and John stood in one group. A second group stood in another corner. They weren’t preaching at the moment, but were saying the morning Shema. They didn’t notice Saul, and he backed off a little and watched. Here were Jews engaged in the same devotions as all other Jews. How could he lift up his hand against a tree rooted in Israel? These were Pharisees, just like him.

“Do not lay your hand on James!” the High Priest had said.

Oh the wretched confusion! He left commanding his men to follow.


There was nothing he could do then. He must pluck the fruit piece by piece. He went at it again with renewed fury.

He rested neither day nor night. His ear was ever open to reports, and anywhere suspicion pointed, he went with his guards and dragged sinners from their homes, throwing them into the Temple dungeons.

As long as his energy carried him, he was fine. But the few hours he spent on his hard, narrow bed were hours of torment. There was no peace. His conscience gripped him like a vise. The ripped and bloody flesh he saw by day returned to him at night in the form of bodies writhing above his head. But he seldom heard sounds of complaint. They accepted their suffering in silence as if it were a special gift.

And these nightmares were not of learned men, but of ordinary weavers, dyers and sandal makers. Where did such simple people, whom he knew so well and loved so deeply, find such strength? They could barely read, they were weak in the law, and their code of observance was slender and uncertain. Where could they have gotten the endurance to suffer so much for a false Messiah and a lying hope?

Joseph, the dyer, who belonged to his own synagogue, was the foremost of the ghastly nighttime visitors. His face was open and friendly, with eyes that seemed to look for someone’s superior strength and wisdom. His spirit was the very symbol of the virtues of Israel. Saul told himself a thousand times that it was impossible that he could have tortured and flayed an innocent soul.


Finally, Saul decided to find Joseph and talk to him one last time, to convince him with all the arguments at his disposal that others had misled him to wander on a false path, and that he could still be saved if he would just listen to Saul. If he could save Joseph’s soul, then in rescuing him he would be rescuing himself.

Not wanting to cause a panic, Saul went down into the Kidron valley alone, wrapped in a black mantle and having his face covered. Eventually he found Joseph, lying under a canopy of branches supported by four upright poles. His shattered body was stretched out on a pile of burlap. A cruse of water stood nearby for his refreshment, and a neighbor sat by his side dipping a rag in some oil and applying it to the welts on his back. Other than two children playing nearby, no one else was around.

When Saul unfolded his mantle and sat down near the feet of the beaten man, the neighbor recognized him, jumped to his feet with a wild yell, and fled from the booth.

But Joseph showed no fear, or even astonishment. It took him a moment to focus, but then his face distorted into a smile of pain, and pity was written in his eyes.

“Joseph,” said Saul, “I’ve come to ask your forgiveness for putting you to the lash.”

“I forgave you a long time ago, Saul,” said Joseph with his childlike smile.

“Is there no anger in your heart? I did it for your own good, Joseph.”

“I know you meant it so. I accept the pain with love.”

“It was to make you turn from the evil ways wicked men have lured you into, and to have you return to your Father in heaven.”

“You’re right, Saul. I am a sinner. God punished me for my own good. God is just, and his judgments are just.”

“To have you return,” continued Saul, “from following the path of belief in a false Messiah.”

“No, Saul, Messiah is true. God has seen our poverty and has sent us a redeemer, to help us.”

“How can he help you if he couldn’t help himself?” asked Saul.

“Oh, Saul, Messiah took pain on himself so that, in suffering like us, he could be one of us. He drank the cup of our shame and wretchedness so that he could take our sins on himself.”

These words were like scorpions in Saul’s ears.

“Let the tongue that says such blasphemies be struck dumb. God’s chosen one shamed and beaten by the rod of Rome?”

“I’m not as learned as you, Saul, but don’t you see that in order for Messiah to save us, he must go down to the depths of hell and lift out the souls who have fallen into it? Now, nothing more can happen to us, for even if we fall into the pit of death, Messiah stands there with outstretched arms to lift us up. ‘Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me.’ That’s why Messiah gave himself to the blows and insults of Rome with love.”

Saul was dumbfounded. There was no conceivable way to save this man, for nothing he was saying had either wit or logic, and it was all so alien to the Law of Moses that the only answer for him was punishment with the lash. But Saul was weary of doing this. The man who lay before him was so far beyond redemption that all Saul could now do was curse.

“Cursed be the mouth that whispered those lies into your ears! You’ve put yourself outside the community; you’ve lost your portion with Israel. Return, Joseph, before it’s too late.”

“I will pray for you, Saul, that God open your eyes to see the great light that has come into our darkness.”

“You will pray for me? I’m your enemy. I’ve beaten you, and I’ll beat you again, until you admit that the evil one has you in his net. Until you return to the God of Israel, Joseph, I am your enemy.”

“The lord taught us to love our enemies, to bless those who curse us, to do good to those who use us despitefully, and to pray for those who persecute us.”

“Which lord?”

“God’s servant, Messiah.”

“To do good to those who persecute you?” asked Saul, wonderingly.

“Yes, so that we might be children of our Father in heaven.”

Saul fled from Joseph shaken to his very soul, filled with rage against his former friend and also against himself. What was this? He’d gone to an ordinary, simple Jew to teach and enlighten him, and to make it clear that what he was doing, he was doing for the sake of heaven. Instead, he’d cried out that he was his enemy and would punish him again and again. And then the sinner, this beaten man, had turned on him with enlightenment, declared that he had nothing against his tormentor, that he loved him and would pray for him.

Saul was shamed by the actions of this simple man who could so disarm him that not only had he been unable to answer him, he’d been driven to rage and bitterness. What “lord” could implant such love into the hearts of the simple? Who could spread such teachings among the broken of spirit that they could stand up to the learned and disarm them? Who was he whose fall was interpreted as the supreme victory, and whose weakness was seen as unconquerable strength?


Saul had a dream that night. Once again he saw Stephen kneeling naked, half buried in stones, his flesh covered with running blood. But now the stones were no longer stones. They were transformed into human heads with the faces of people Saul knew and loved, people he saw at prayers and in the marketplace, but whose necks were stretched out for the sacrificial knife. These faces were peaceful because all their questions had been answered, and all their hopes fulfilled.