16 - The Brink of the Abyss

When Saul woke up, there were a thousand fiery points pressed against his temples, forehead and neck. He felt like a sharp-toothed adder had forced its way into his bones and was feeding on the marrow. The black abyss of the lowest hell was in his heart and everything in his life that was as firm as rocks was falling into it with him. His nephew brought him a cup of honey wine for strength, for his face was the color of a spleen.

And yet he got up, met his guards, and set out on a feverish hunt for new victims.

Sometimes Saul thought that the demon that was spreading false hope among his victims had chosen his heart for a battlefield between himself and mankind. Other times he thought that God was tossing him back and forth from certainty to doubt like a ball in a wild game. Was this all just one big mockery?

Certainly it was the demon and Saul vowed once again to stand up to the messenger like a man.

So he redoubled his efforts. He closed his eyes and ears to the pains and pleadings of the sinners. There was some small reward. A few repented of the sin and turned back to the God of the Torah. But the vast majority, the simple and most ignorant, still clung to the demon.


Saul learned from his spies that James, Simon and John were making regular, secret rounds into the wretched homes of their followers and strengthening them against the persecution. Sometimes he would arrive at someone’s home where the smell of oils and unguents still lingered, as if James had just been there. This was especially frustrating as he was impotent against James.

But there were other leaders he could move against. Some had fled the city leaving the little people to bear the brunt. He would find them.

First on his list was Phillip, the friend of the dead preacher. He lived in a great house on the Street of the Cheesemakers, not far from the entrance to the upper city. His house stood on a slope spread over several terraces. There was a courtyard with a water basin surrounded by cypress trees on the lowest level. The sleeping quarters were also on this level and a flight of stairs led up to the living quarters on the next level. On the top terraces were the women’s quarters.

When Saul came into the quiet, well-tended garden court, he found no one. The men’s chambers were empty of all furniture, except for a mattress or low table. A mantle hung on the wall in one room. But not a single person was seen.

As he came out of the men’s quarters, Saul noticed that Phillip’s oldest daughter Zipporah was standing on the steps leading from above. She was dressed in sackcloth like all women of her sect.

“The ones you’re looking for aren’t here, Saul,” said Zipporah. “But the women are here, so carry out your work. We’re ready.”

“My work?”

“Command your men to take us prisoner as you’ve done with all the others.”

“Take who prisoner? The men are gone.”

“Us, the women.”

“Women? Who pays any attention to them?” he quoted the Aramaic phrase of contempt current in Jerusalem.

“Are we better than the poor women you’ve dragged into court, Saul? Why don’t you carry out your mission with us?”

“I told you, women don’t count.”

And turning to his companions he said, “Come! The men have fled, leaving the women’s clothes behind.”

Zipporah called out, “Saul, you don’t perform your task honestly! There are some you favor!”

Saul didn’t answer her. He just muttered, “Women are a different breed.”


Nevertheless Zipporah’s words rang true in his ears. He hadn’t done it before, so why did he do it now? He didn’t have any problem dragging the poor women to court. Why should it be different with the rich?

“Who are you, Saul?” he asked himself. “The avenging messenger of God or an oppressor of the poor?”

But Zipporah’s accusation went even deeper than she’d intended. Saul had already suspected that Phillip had left the city, for he no longer appeared in the synagogue. Saul just went to his house to appease his conscience. But there was another man he hadn’t even tried to find.

It would certainly be easy enough to find Barnabas guilty of breaking the law. And of course he knew right where he lived. But Saul had avoided him. He knew he didn’t have the resolve to condemn his old friend to the lash. He hadn’t seen him once since their separation, for in the deepest recesses of his heart, Saul knew that Barnabas was the just man and he was the wicked one.

He was at a crisis point and he knew he couldn’t evade the issue any longer. Saul did respect his old friend’s enthusiasm and envied his ability to surrender to an ideal, and this challenge would be the ultimate test of Saul’s resolve. Saul knew that he was afraid to look Barnabas in the eye, but he also knew that Barnabas had much to offer. Goodness and gaiety radiated from his face and surrounded him with a brightness and warmth that attracted young and old alike. So meeting the test with a man who’d given up as much as Barnabas had would show Saul’s sincerity and prove that what he was doing was of the Lord.

He went directly from Phillip’s house to Mary’s.


There was no servant or overseer to greet him as in the past. A girl opened the gate for him and immediately let out a scream of terror as she fled toward the inner rooms. Saul restrained his men from entering and waited. Barnabas came out shortly along with the boy John.

Saul barely recognized his former friend. Could this be the graceful and elegant Barnabas, who was always seen in his tunic of delicate linen, his flowing black mantle and the flashing ring on his finger? The man walking toward him looked more like a Nazarite. His hair hung straight down, he was wrapped in sackcloth, and a pale face peered out from behind a wild growth of beard.

As the two men looked at each other, Barnabas could see something in Saul’s face that betrayed a terrified weakness.

“Peace to you, Saul, my brother,” said Barnabas, stretching out his hand.

“There is no peace for the wicked,” answered Saul, as he turned his eyes away.

“I pray for you, Saul, that God will help you see where you’ve gone wrong. Wake up, my brother!”

“The prayer of the wicked is like incense on the altars of idols,” retorted Saul. “I am no brother to those who eat of their sacrifices.”

“I’ll never stop praying for you, Saul. And when you wake up and see how far down the path of evil you’ve gone, don’t flee in terror to the valley of death. Instead find the strength to cling to the horns of the altar and return to your Father in heaven. I know you don’t do these things out of wickedness, but because you’ve been misled by evil counselors, who’ve convinced you that you’re doing God’s work.

“Wake up, Saul, and realize that you’re not doing God’s work, but Satan’s.”

“Is this how you speak to the messenger of the High Priest?” yelled Zebulun as he cracked his whip across Barnabas’ cheek.

Blood spurted from Barnabas’ mouth before Saul could even react, for Barnabas’ words had thrown him into confusion. And to top it off, rather than answer with angry words, Barnabas turned his head and said, “The lord taught us that if one smite you on one cheek, turn the other to him also.”

“Yes, we’ve heard it. Let me accommodate you!” shouted Zebulun, lifting up his whip again.

But this time he felt the hot, sharp fingers of his leader on his arm.

“Son of wickedness, are we bandits?”

And without looking at Barnabas, Saul said, “Let’s go. Your whip has spoiled God’s work.”

But as he marched out with his men, he heard Barnabas’ voice, “I knew it, Saul. You are my brother!”

Saul knew he was defeated and had no right to continue in God’s work.


After this Saul wandered around like a blind man. He tried to carry on, but all he could see was the once proud Barnabas in every follower of the disciples. Yes, he’d seen others turn the other cheek, but he never paid attention to it until he saw Barnabas do it. And Zipporah’s voice kept ringing in his ears, “Saul, you don’t perform your task honestly! There are some you favor!”

He was a hypocrite.

He wandered around Jerusalem like this for two or three days until a thought occurred to him. Since he played favorites in Jerusalem, why not go somewhere else, somewhere where he had no friends and no one knew him. That way the only thing between him and the followers of the disciples would be the law of God. How simple then to win back his old confidence.

The opportunity soon came.


The Hellenistic believers of Jerusalem had scattered from the city because of their terror of Saul. They fled to Samaria and Galilee, and even outside Palestine. The gospel was taken to Syrian Antioch where there was a ripe field ready to harvest. Disciples of John the Baptist had already prepared the fields and it was relatively easy for the Hellenistic Jews to found small congregations. Word of this development soon reached the ears of the High Priest.

The reports from Damascus were especially troubling. The rabbis there had already made it too easy for the Gentiles to convert to Judaism, although the men still had to be circumcised. Many of the unconverted crowded the synagogue on the Sabbath. The High Priest was alarmed to find out that a congregation of the new sect had formed in Damascus and a number of Gentiles had also joined them.

Now it so happened that the High Priest had an excellent relationship with the king in Damascus. The Arab ruler was often a guest in the High Priest’s home and brought offerings to the Temple. He would understand that the blasphemous attitude of the leaders of the new sect would corrupt the piety of all the Jews of Syria if allowed to go unchecked.

The High Priest had no doubt that the king would cooperate in the arrests of the leaders, for his influence was powerful and far-reaching. It was recognized everywhere that the Jews were a separate people and that the High Priest was their legal representative. He had the legal right to order his Jewish subjects to appear before him in Jerusalem.

The only concern was to find the right messenger to send to Damascus with authority to arrest the leaders of the new sect and to bring them to Jerusalem for trial. The man chosen for such a mission had to be one consumed with zeal for the cause.

The moment Saul heard of the decision, he rushed to the chamber of the chief officer to volunteer.

The High Priest immediately accepted and letters were addressed to the heads of the synagogues of Damascus the very same day.

The letters were sealed and handed over to Saul, who now had the authority to arrest any Jew in Damascus at his discretion and bring him to the High Priest’s court.


Word of all this reached the ears of James and the other disciples, as these things always do, and they were terrified. Saul’s very name had become synonymous with calamity. Hands trembled and faces were pale as they spent the common mealtime in mourning. But there was also anger and contempt expressed from the Pharisee believers, of which there was a good-sized group. These former students of Gamaliel felt shamed and humiliated at the mention of Saul’s name, the same as their ancestors would have been shamed at the mention of the golden calf.

One said, “Who knows what will happen to the holy congregation of Damascus? I’ve heard that the Damascus ruler is a friend of Annas, and he will surely deliver the saints to the slaughter.”

Another said, “To think this man was once a pupil of Rabbi Gamaliel, a disciple of the mild Hillel.”

“Let us pray for the peace of the holy congregation of Damascus,” said an older disciple. “Let us pray that He protect them from the hand of the enemy.”

“Did not our lord teach us to pray for our enemies?” responded James. “Come, dear brothers, let us all pray for the young man, Saul, that God may be merciful to him and turn his heart to the good.”

So James bowed his head, and the others followed suit.

“Lord of all the worlds, Father of all souls, have compassion on the soul of the young man, Saul. Lift it from the depths to which it has fallen. Open his eyes that he may see the light of Your holy servant, Messiah. Turn his heart to the good, so that he may recognize and forsake the evil he has done. Be compassionate in his hour of repentance. Bring him back to the path of Your teaching, that he may find strength. Amen.”

On the other side of the curtain, the women repeated his prayer, word for word.