07 - The Call

The little earthen oil lamps cast a melancholy spell in the living room of Saul’s home. In one corner Saul was seated over his “parchments,” and in the opposite corner his mother was drawing threads from her spinning wheel, their giant shadows spreading over the utensils, jars, and mattresses and onto the white washed walls. His mother’s face was unnaturally long. Her eyes were swollen with much crying, and her nose, like his, overshadowed her lower lip, and was even longer than his.

She continued to spin even as her mournful, plaintive voice floated across the room. “A rabbi. That’s what your father and I expected to come back to us. A rabbi with his disciples to brighten our old age. And you come back a lonely and pitiful man. A young blossoming tree came back a withered thorn bush. You were the pride of Israel, the hope of our family, and now look at you. Now you’re the companion of heathens. The congregation calls you unclean behind your back, and you sit like a mourner in your celibacy, waiting, waiting, ever waiting. What are you waiting for, my son?”

Saul swallowed his mother’s reproaches in silence. He understood her longing for some earthly fulfillment through her son, but what could he do? He remembered that Jesus had said, ‘Who is my father, who are my brothers?’ But this wasn’t preaching; this was real. She was his flesh and bone, and his heart overflowed with pity.

From the corner he answered, “Mother, you know full well the reason for these things. I didn’t choose the road to Damascus. It was God who sent me. Can I leave the road that God sent me on, even for your sake?”

“It was an evil dream that visited you on the road to Damascus. An evil spirit took hold of you, and it makes your heart restless.”

“Mother, you speak against God. May he forgive you.”

“I say it again. It’s an evil spirit that lives in you. Return, my son. Place your forehead on the threshold of the synagogue, and ask forgiveness. Think. Your name and the name of your family will be cut off from Israel. You alone remain of your father’s sons. I will find a wife for you. Father children. Raise up your father’s house again in Israel. Why should I be cursed among the mothers in Israel?”

Saul, who was strong in front of others, was still a child in front of his mother. Her sorrow unnerved him. He got up, went over to her, bent down, and said, “I owe you the honor the law requires. My love and obedience are yours, but my life belongs to the lord. I will beg God to open your eyes, so that you can see that the instrument you created is destined for His work. Then your sorrow will turn to joy.”


After wrestling the night in prayer, Saul started the next day in the normal manner. He washed his hands, repeated the morning Shema, and packed his lunch. But he didn’t go to the weaver’s factory. Instead he went to the quayside. It was spring, and the branches were covered with blossoms. There were pilgrims boarding ship for Jerusalem and friends and relatives to see them off. Saul’s heart was burdened, but behind the pain was also a mixture of hope. Every branch on every bush has its time of blossoming, and his time would come too.

There were many ships that sailed between Antioch and Tarsus. A little canal connected the Orontes River from Antioch to the port of Seleucia. From there it was a short distance to Tarsus, a day’s journey in fair weather. Jewish merchants arrived with every boat and Saul often heard news of Antioch, so he knew that the number of believers increased daily. Many Gentiles were converted and joined the new congregation. Similar reports came from Phoenician merchants, Cypriots and others. And messengers also brought good news from Jerusalem. It appeared that Saul was the only one on the outside. Everyone, it seemed, had forgotten him.


Saul did go to work that day, and when he returned home that evening, he found a man waiting for him.

At first sight it seemed to Saul that he was seeing a vision. For although only seven years had passed, the man was a stranger. There was a mysterious spiritual beauty about him, as though divine glory rested on his face. The trim little beard Saul remembered had been replaced by a great black growth. It wasn’t combed and oiled, but wild, falling like a dark cascade on the black mantle. But in his eyes the day shone. His eyes seemed to have fathomed the meaning and purpose of the world and to have unlocked the riddle of life. To those eyes, everything was simple and straightforward. Belief in God and in His chosen Messiah flooded the eyes of Barnabas with childlike confidence and joy.

Barnabas had quite a different impression. He saw before him a young man who’d suddenly become old. There was nothing left of his thick head of hair but a fringe around a large bald patch. His head was still mighty, but weighted with all the sorrow of the world. His eyes gave forth the hot light of a frustrated longing, and his fallen cheeks spoke of years of patient waiting. Something about the fringe of hair suggested a crown of thorns.

The two men stared at each other speechless. Then suddenly they fell into each other’s arms.

“Saul, my brother!”

“Joseph!”

“I’ve come to take you with me to Antioch. The holy ones in Jerusalem sent me to strengthen the hands of our brothers there. But you’re more fit for the task, for God’s spirit rests on you.”

“Joseph, I knew you’d come. The lord has sustained me till this day.”


The two friends sat up the whole night. Saul was eager for every detail of the congregation’s growth in Jerusalem. He asked in particular about the reaction to Simon’s vision, especially James’, and wanted to know the names of all who opposed him. He wanted to know what had been done to strengthen the hands of the congregations Phillip had founded in Samaria. Barnabas told him that many hadn’t been too happy with Simon when they learned that he’d gone into the homes of the uncircumcised and broke bread with them.

Barnabas went on to tell of the new persecutions brought on the congregation by King Herod Agrippa. Agrippa was a man who lived two lives. In his provincial palace, he lived the heathen life of a proud Roman aristocrat, similar to the way he’d lived in the heyday of his Roman period. He started gladiator combats, and fights between men and beasts. On the other hand, he also remembered the chains he’d worn in prison under Tiberius and the pogrom he’d witnessed in Alexandria. So whenever he came up to Jerusalem he acted like a pious Pharisee, and became a zealot for the faith. Ignorant of its contents, and ignorant of the conditions in Jerusalem, he laid his heavy hand on John’s brother James, the purest of the pure, the disciple who lived in poverty, innocence, and devotion. After having James killed, he took Simon prisoner. But God put a heavy sleep on the prison guards, and an angel led Simon to freedom. Barnabas told the embarrassing story of how they’d been at his sister Mary’s house praying for Simon’s release and then didn’t believe the maid when she told them that Simon was knocking at the door.

Sometime after that Agrippa died a sudden and public death, and the congregation lived in peace. His death was interpreted as a punishment from God.

No one troubled the believers in Jerusalem these days. In fact, the sages, scribes, and Pharisees had made peace with them seeing as how the believers there all kept the commandments of the Law of Moses. Many of the Pharisees entered the faith, and sat at table with James and his brother Jude, and helped direct the congregation in the spirit of the Pharisees. However, this led to internal dissensions, for the new converts from among the Hellenists as well as the Gentiles could not submit to the heavy yoke of the laws the Pharisees placed on the neck of the community. Because of this many Gentiles wouldn’t become believers.

A flicker of bitterness passed across Saul’s face. He asked, “And what does Peter say? How does he stand in the matter?”

“Sometimes he talks one way and sometimes another. When he’s with the Gentile converts and Hellenists, he agrees with them. But when he’s with James, Jude, and Simon the Zealot, he agrees with them.”

“One that carries water on both shoulders,” muttered Saul.

“Well, Saul, I think Peter’s just trying to hold the congregation together. He takes that rock business seriously. Or if you prefer, he’s the fire that fuses the different parts into unity. So sometimes he makes the law easier, and sometimes harder, according to circumstances. He just wants to do what’s best for the congregation. He was compassionate toward the Gentiles and tried to ease their way into the Kingdom of Heaven. But he does insist that they’re bound to the God of Israel, and must observe His laws. And I think God’s blessing is on him.”

Sensing his friends’ natural devotion to Simon, Saul took the hint and said nothing. He knew how to be silent when necessary.


The next morning Saul went to his mother, bowed low, and told her that he was leaving.

“Where will you go, my son?” asked his mother, her eyes fixed on his face.

Saul returned her look, and felt like he was seeing his own future. Her face was nothing but cords and muscles, hillocks and valleys, folds and wrinkles – paths leading by strange detours into remote, unknown places. He felt he could see the coming storms and tribulations he would encounter on the long road ahead.

“I go by the road God has appointed for me,” he answered. “Peace to you, my mother. God grant that this face, which many have shamed, will be honored by many.”

He took the memory of her face out on the road with him.